Come Back to the 5 & Dime Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean

This is a set-bound independent film deals with a small assortment of characters who assemble at the small title store in a nowhere, dusty Texas town. Some work at the store, and some have moved out of town, but they are reuniting on the 20th anniversary of James Dean's death. It seems GIANT was filmed nearby 20 years earlier, and one of their own even appeared as an extra in the film. Some have moved on since then, others haven't. And some have changed completely. I won't go further into the developments, as learning who is who and what is what is part of the film's journey.

Robert Altman directed this, both on the stage and then on film, and it's more interesting than I expected. I've never been a fan of Sandy Dennis or Karen Black, and so I've never gone out of my way to see this again after I saw it the first time. I am, however, a fan of Robert Altman. Altman has always been known for his great rapport with his actresses, and that quality serves him and his cast admirably in this. These are interesting, fully-fleshed out women, and the voices are very genuine. Sandy Dennis plays a variation of her usual emotionally fragile screen persona, but Altman manages to rein in her histrionic tendencies. Karen Black is much better than usual, in an unusual, but subtle performance. Cher famously made her first serious foray into dramatic acting here, and she's tough and terrific. A young and fiery Kathy Bates is also memorable. Stage veteran Sudie Bond rounds out the main cast.

I saw this earlier this year on TCM, and for the first time years ago on Showtime. I am always fascinated about the places where movies are filmed on location, and Giant is my favorite of James Dean's movies. It is easy to see when watching the movie that it is based upon a play with one set, but that doesn't detract from it. Even though the introduction warned about flashbacks, I wasn't aware just how quickly the movie would go between the present day of the story and two decades before. That meant I was confused for the first 15 minutes or so, so don't be surprised if you are too. Then I realized what was happening and stopped worrying about what time frame it was at any given moment. Rewatching it, having an idea about what is going on, did make it more enjoyable for me. Recommended.

I was very glad to have watched this movie. It was both interesting, and compelling. The acting was superb, by Cher, Sudie Bond, Kathy Bates, and especially, Sandy Dennis. Karen Black was sensational in her role. What a great cast! And the story itself was great, also.

Character studies don't come any better than this offbeat look at small-town self-delusion. Robert Altman, best known for sweeping epics like Nashville, shows us that even on a smaller physical scale he is an original, highly inventive director. The low-budget production uses 16-millimeter photography and a single set to create a desolate, lonely atmosphere that mirrors the characters' hidden emotional turmoil. Although we only glimpse a tiny portion through the store window, we get a perfect feel for the dusty isolation of dying McCarthy, Texas. Five and Dime also contains hidden elements of symbolism that you may not notice at first but add another layer to the brilliance of the film.

Still, as with any play, it's all about the acting. And here, the acting is impeccable, especially that of top-billed stars Sandy Dennis, Cher, and Karen Black. Dennis is Mona, the stubbornly (and dangerously) romantic leader of the Disciples; Cher is Sissy, the blowsy sex symbol with a painful secret; and Black is Joanne, a mysterious "stranger" who cracks everyone's delusions. All three are terrific and should have received more recognition for their roles herein. Great support is provided by the Marta Heflin, the delightful Kathy Bates, and Sudie Bond as the shrill, bigoted owner of the Woolworth's.

This is not a film for everyone. There is no action, by the traditional definition. But this examination fantasy and reality, how life is and how we would like it to be, is a haunting exercise in acting, direction, and emotional involvement.

I see something different every time I see this movie. What starts out seeming to be a very simplistic movie about James Dean fans is really more about what we believe in and how difficult it sometimes is to get beyond "false fronts".

Cher is excellent and the rest of the cast do a credible job of allowing us to see different viewpoints through different characters. Marta Heflin as Edna Louise probably has the most to offer in the way of "the moral to the story". Sudie Bond as Juanita has some of the best lines delivered in an excellent "why me" voice.

Things are not the way they seem in any of the characters lives with one exception.

Don't just watch this movie once. Watch it again and again and pick up something more each time.

The critique of social institutions and the portrayal of social outsiders remain Altman's central preoccupations in one of his more minor, less genuine attempts to revise our sense of American history by subverting some of its most trenchant myths. He's definitely better with a cast of hundreds, painting broad pictures of their complex interactions and entanglements by inventively using overlapping sound and dialogue, documentary realism and improvisation than he is with a cast of only a handful, each taking turns to ramble on with romantic soliloquys while the rest look on. This was made no clearer than in the embarrassing dud he shot next, Streamers. But there are some touching moments and themes in this obsessively nostalgic period piece about flashbacks, memories and disabused denial about the past, though they arguably have less to do with the substance on the screen than with Altman's tenacious devotion to the project. This first of numerous play adaptations by post-Hollywood Altman in the '80s comes to pass within a petite retail variety store in parched McCarthy, Texas, where a James Dean fan club reunites in 1975. The movie flits between then and 1955, the year Dean died, as the six members divulge skeletons in the cupboard hearkening back to then. The store is not far from where the great Dean film Giant was shot that year.

Those there are an unhinged Sandy Dennis, who leaped at the opportunity to be an extra when Giant was on location and who, nine months later, gave birth to a son she maintains is Dean's. She's taken the late bus. Then there's Cher, the acerbic five-and-dime waitress, who boasts relentlessly about the size of her breasts. She shows up late after lending a hand at the truck stop. And Karen Black, whose skeleton in the closet is the film's biggest culminating beat. The others who float in and out of the story are the newly well-heeled oil wife Kathy Bates, supplying ironic echoes of Liz Taylor in the epic movie playing such a pivotal role in the plot; crushingly meek woman Marta Heflin, now pregnant for the umpteenth time; Mark Patton, who prefers the fashion wear of the opposite sex, and Sudie Bond, who runs the joint. She opens the film by preparing for yet another day on the job, swatting flies and listening to gospel hymns on the radio, and also calls after young Jimmy Dean by name.

What Altman does with his ensemble is emphasize the script's relationship between the repression of women and male-dominated society's fear of sexual variation and gender uncertainty. The film's one male character to appear is implicitly, and sensitively, viewed as feminine, rather than the archetypally effeminate, woman-identified, and gay. The film also implies, in one of its most creative and penetrating story elements, that he's become something much more socially unacceptable for the reason that his social order had no place for a gay man.

The film is otherwise little if not distended with surprises that seem like they came from a very heartfelt writer's legal pad. As the women largely rotate, literally, going at each other in monologue prose, spoken in deep-Texas country drawl, we learn of emotionally demanding surgeries and the difficult realities of Dennis' eponymous son. Altman is extraordinarily efficient at keeping things moving, even when you're unsure whether you're watching something occurring in 1975 or 1955.

What makes this minor exercise noteworthy is that Altman shot it in 16 mm, and made do with merely 800 large on the whole project. Altman continually employs mirrors as a way to connect scenes like a dream between the present and the past. Manifestations in mirrors are part of the film's various frame compositions. The effect was seamlessly accomplished with a double set with two-way mirrors controlled by computerized lighting techniques. They become a window into 1955, allowing the characters to stare into the past, until that's what it all is, punctuated by hypnotically poignant shots of the decaying, abandoned five-and-dime store, while the song fades and the wind blows.