Welcome to L.A.

A gauzy, perfume advertisement-styled depiction of Los Angeles as a carousel of lonely, emotionally needy people has a great cast of actors, yet is so self-conscious about its theme that it leaves everyone wilting in a sterile vacuum. Debuting director Alan Rudolph, who also penned the screenplay, is so narcissistic over these hapless characters that self-absorption is just a starting point--does he think these people are reflective of modern human lives? Keith Carradine plays a songwriter whom women want but can't get (he's mired in alienation); Geraldine Chaplin is an unloved housewife who roams the streets; Lauren Hutton (at her most attractive) is a photographer specializing in pictures of empty rooms, and so on. Rudolph and producer Robert Altman, trying--one assumes--for a West Coast "Nashville", take the edge off everything, so that the movie is a smoothly banal experience, passive and bland. Despite a minute or two of honest emotional despair, the film quickly becomes a pity party for the apathetic. *1/2 from ****

It seemed a bit dark in '77, but today it may even cheer you up! It takes at least a half-hour to understand what's going on in this movie so here's a head start:

The guy with the hat and goatee (Carroll) is a song-writer/playboy and son of a millionaire. Watch him because he wants to sleep with most of the women in the movie. The crazy woman in the taxi is married to... is that really Harvey Keitel? Yes. You'll never believe it! He is the employee of the millionaire who is, incidentally, Uncle Jessie from the Dukes of Hazard.

If I were Carroll I would have gone for Sissy Spacek, who likes to clean house topless throughout the movie. But he still makes enough tracks to be considered a hero of the sexual revolution.

The music throughout the movie sounds a little like Dan Hill, but it gets you in a good 70's mood so that you can enjoy the atmosphere this movie creates. Look for Sissy Spacek's pants that match the wallpaper and definitely check out Harvey Keitel's pipe!

This film, Alan Rudolph's first and BEST (along with Choose Me 7 years later) had gotten a bum rap. Some people hate the music of Richard Baskin or think the variety of characters are a pretentious and boring lot. I think just the opposite! Harvey Keitel was never more amusing and pathetic. Sissy Spacek is a doll (in probably her easiest role) and brighter than some would think. Geraldine Chaplin is finally put to good use. Keith Carradine seemed to relax more after his Nashville experience and is very subtle. Sally Kellerman at her most beautiful and hungry. Viveca Lindfors creates a memorable "older" woman and John Considine is hilarious. Denver Pyle supplies stability.

After a while the music grows on you, when you finally actually hear what he's saying. Needless to say, I'm a big Altman fan, and once in a while Rudolph hits the mark as well. A 9 out of 10. Best performance = Sally Kellerman. Worth a visit as L.A. is explored and exposed in a new light!

If you saw this film when it came out, the cultural atmosphere would have no nostalgic impact on you, even if you lived in L.A., because it was obviously present day for you.

Which brings us to the main thing that so many of us like about the movie. We like to take in the clothes, cars, landscapes and musical vibe of a bygone era; one which we may have lived for and now long for. For younger people, there may be a fascination for the way part of the world was before they were born.

I was there in L.A. at that time. As a very wide-eyed and impressionable teenybobber, I was standing in the background watching the grown ups and the older kids living out their 70s lifestyle. I was just a tad too young to join. My favorite line in the film is "Daydreams and Traffic," uttered by Keith Carradine, repeating what his blonde real estate agent said L.A. is all about. I totally agree with that vibe. It's addictive in an odd sort of way.

Character development is vitally important to a film, and this one is short on it. For me, at some point, a character has to explain why they are the way there are. Or at least it must come out in related dialogue. It didn't here for the most part.

I say "for the most part," because we do at least see through couplings and facial expressions, and monlogues, that they are lonely people who are not getting the love and devotion they had hoped for from their life partners and families.

Yes, these are mostly shallow,self-indulgent losers, who characterize the worst aspects of their era and area. But it's o.k. to tell a story about losers, if they are the types you are familiar with. Like another reviewer, I too give the makers credit for not including movie people. That would be too easy and too clichéd.

I loved the Richard Baskin music. His slightly off-key delivery made it better than it would be if it were perfect. Songwriters are not necessarily supposed to be great singers. They sing their own stuff with true feeling however, since they know the ethos behind the music better than anyone else. Of course in this movie, maybe the Keith Carradine character was supposed to have written the music.

The nudity did nothing for me. The context was not sexy. I'm not a big fan of big boobs on a super skinny body. I like proportion.

Even though I am a conservative person, I do often wish I could have lived as an adult during a period when everyone was open to one night stands. I love the idea of bonding with a waitress and enjoying an evening together with no strings. I know that makes me a bit of a hypocrite.

I guess I envied the Carradine character's unearned millions, his cool house, his talent, and his ability to bed whomever he chose, whenever he chose. Enough said.

"Welcome To LA" is a dated film involving ten characters whose only shared trait seems to be loneliness. The movie plays like a moody tone poem, and there are no comedic, dramatic, or action-filled sequences... just a bunch of urban sun-bums looking lost and hopelessly mellow.

Keith Carradine redefines the term "slacker" for the Me Generation, as he wanders around LA with a soul patch having intercourse with a score of women while never once changing his expression. He's supposedly an artist, with troubles in his romantic life and familial relationships, but he is so centered, so serene, so placid, that he comes off more as a Buddhist monk or Jedi Knight.

He has occasional flashbacks to his former lover played by Diahnne Abbott, and I have to believe that no man would ever forget this woman. In her wordless seconds of screen time here, just like her tiny roles in "Taxi Driver" and "New York, New York," you can see that this is one of the most gorgeous, sexual women ever to walk the Earth... she's got the jungle in her, and this is the type of woman men kill other men to be with. She was my favorite part of the movie.

Between stories involving the grating Geraldine Chaplin and the sexy Sally Kellerman we keep cutting back to Richard Baskin as a singer/songwriter recording his album in a studio. These songs and the montages cut around them- which were presumably meant to be the heart of the film- are rendered unlistenable by the foul, nails-on-blackboard voice of Baskin. The fact that this man was ever allowed behind a microphone is a crime against the eardrum. Instead of the soulful, contemplative center of the story, we get a talentless drone warbling clichéd lyrics while the leads bemoan their fate. Nothing makes the heart ache like sunshine.

The only other bright spot is Sissy Spacek, a woman of unbelievable beauty and depth, who effortlessly steals the show whenever she's on screen. Ms. Spacek can be a naive little girl one minute, an intellectual adult the next, and a lusty sexpot only seconds later. If you love her like I do check out "Violets Are Blue" in which she plays a woman so irresistible you cannot help but fall in love.

"Welcome To LA" is supposed to show the isolation and loneliness that exists even in the hedonistic, superficial world of La-La Land... the trouble is we wind up with a movie that confirms our worst beliefs about the place: These characters have no right to be this bummed... it's shallow, narcissistic self-pity. But it makes for a great late-night movie.

Grade: C