A Prairie Ramone Companion

There is no more perfect a diversion from the hustle-bustle than a good ol’ movie musical, where the worries of the day are easily vented through song and all is wrapped up nicely in the end (yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking, “What about West Side Story, Dancer in the Dark, or…” Cut me some slack, people, I’m dealing with the bigger picture.) Light and easy is the musical M.O., and since the hustle has been bustling in a major way these days, light and easy was what I needed. I found it (almost) with two flicks this past weekend.

I had been curious about Robert Altman’s A Prairie Home Companion since first hearing of it a year back. Garrison Keillor’s eponymous radio show on which the film is based has always been a guilty pleasure - it provides the perfect background noise for a calming Saturday afternoon. Altman’s adaptation follows suit. With a script penned by Keillor, the film has the same slyly innocent, aw-shucks, “let’s put on a show” enthusiasm as the radio program. The story, which follows the cast of A Prairie Home Companion as they face the termination of their show after a corporate buy-out of their home theatre, is an interesting blend of backstage banter and live performance footage. The players – Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin, Woody Harrelson, John C. Reilly, Lindsay Lohan (yes, Lindsay Lohan), Kevin Kline and Keillor - are all superb as both actors and musical performers.

Regardless of these pluses, I was unmoved by the film. Part of the radio show’s charm lies in the fact that it is just that – a radio show. Though retaining near all of the namesake qualities, the transfer from airwaves to celluloid zapped A Prairie Home Companion of its mystique. The man behind the curtain was revealed and he was a boring cuss to watch. Maybe the next time I view the film (and I will see it again), I’ll do so with my eyes shut.


Eager to shake the sleep out of my eyes after A Prairie Home Companion, I opted for a musical with a bit more oomph. Rock ‘n’ Roll High School fit the bill to a tee. Sex crazed antics, teenage hijinx and high decibel madness run rampant in the story of rock ‘n’ roller Riff Randall, whose obsession with punk pioneers The Ramones brings Vince Lombardi High School and its battle-axe principal to their knees.

The Roger Corman produced flick is stupid. Perfectly stupid. Ridiculous scenarios abound - freshmen are sardine packed into lockers and desks; the school entrepreneur has an office (with secretary) in the men’s bathroom; lab rats exposed to rock music grow to human size; The Ramones “act”…you get the picture. The Ramones’ punchy three-chord pop punk is dead perfect for the film, as well. In fact, a film such as this could only be made about The Ramones. With their ruminations on glue sniffing, teenage lobotomies and pinheads, the tunes not only provide the film’s bounce and energy, but also it’s disillusioned, rebellious soul.

Gabba Gabba Hey.

- Phil Morehart