Robert Altman: The Director Who Divides Audiences Between Masterpiece and Bore

Robert Altman: Between Masterpiece and Unbearable Bore

Robert Altman periodically resurfaces at the center of an unresolved debate: is he an essential auteur or the biggest bore in American cinema? The accusation comes with names. One sector claims his films are "absolutely abominable," with lethargic narrative pacing and uncharismatic characters, challenging critics to name even one good movie. The response, far from settling the matter, opens up the discussion.

Which Robert Altman Films Stand Out?

Several participants agree on saving The Player (1992), the satire of Hollywood presented as entertaining and direct. The Long Goodbye (1973) gains defenders: the interpretation of Marlowe with Elliott Gould works, and incidentally antiestéticatures a young Arnold Schwarzenegger forced by the script to strip down to his underwear. The scene is remembered more for its absurdity than for its cinematic merit.

Conversely, the list of criticized films mentioned by participants is long. Popeye (1980) carries the stigma of being a monstrosity; Ready to Wear is dismissed without mercy; Dr. T & the Women appears among the worst seen; and Gosford Park (2001), according to one participant, drags on for over two hours with an interminable introduction before the plot even begins. Kansas City and Vincent & Theo also fare poorly, criticized for their flat pacing and forced scenes.

The Ensemble Cast: Method or Flaw?

Here lies the fundamental rift. What some interpret as the director's signature—overlapping dialogue, huge casts, intersecting and diverging storylines—others see as an accumulation of disconnected plots where it becomes unclear what is being told. MASH (1970), his major cult hit, is the perfect example: some remember it as mythical, while others find it a succession of scenes that lead nowhere.

Technical defenses exist: some argue these are not accidental flaws but precisely his method. And it either works or doesn't work depending on the viewer, not the film itself. That's the problem with discussing Altman: the same characteristic is simultaneously proof of the accusation and proof of innocence.

The Cultish Reappraisal of the Seventies

A generational factor influences all assessments. According to one participant, for years, certain television critics placed Altman, Bogdanovich, and the French New Wave on a pedestal, as if they had invented cinema. That historical context now weighs against him: the work is burdened by the memory of that sermonizing.

The parallel with Fellini is inevitable, and also misleading. The Italian director has his own detractors—8½ is defended and attacked within the same conversation—but some attribute to him a handful of titles presented as fruta.

The balance remains stuck at the same point. There is no list of undisputed films to close the Altman case, nor is there such a colossal failure to condemn him outright. What remains is a body of work that forces you to choose sides before you even watch it.