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Short Cuts

Gene Shepard .......... Tim Robbins

Sherri Shepard ........ Madeleine Stowe

Ann Finnigan .......... Andie MacDowell

Howard Finnigan ....... Bruce Davison

Marian Wyman .......... Julianne Moore

Dr. Ralph Wyman ....... Matthew Modine

Paul Finnigan ......... Jack Lemmon

Lois Kaiser ........... Jennifer Jason Leigh

Jerry Kaiser .......... Chris Penn

Doreen Piggot ......... Lily Tomlin

Stormy Weathers ....... Peter Gallagher

        Fine Line presents a film directed by Robert Altman. Produced by Cary Brokaw. Written by Altman and Frank Barhydt. Based on the stories of Raymond Carver. Photographed by Walt Lloyd. Edited by Geraldine Peroni. Music by Mark Isham. Running time: 189 minutes. Classified: R (for graphic sexual language, and for nudity).

            Robert Altman's better-known films, particularly "Nashville" and "The Player," are big and expansive, attempting to take the measure of an entire culture or subculture. They have many subplots and many characters whose lives overlap only occasionally and at significant moments. Altman's worldview seems to be that much of life just happens without any planning or foresight. The most important moments of life are moments which we cannot plan for, and in which we often do the wrong thing, through no fault of our own.

            I enjoyed "Short Cuts" and admired Altman's craftsmanship. However, I really liked "Nashville" and "The Player" better, for those films, for all their diversity, had a greater unity and sense of direction. This one is more of a "slice of life," a series of looks at '90s Los Angeles through many, many specific examples. Still, this film is a pretty good example of the Altman worldview.

            Doreen (Lily Tomlin) drives slowly down the road on her way home. Eight-year-old Casey is late to school, and he runs out in the street trying to beat her to the intersection. She hits him, and in agony stops her car and goes to him. She offers him a ride to the hospital, or home, but he refuses, because his Mom won't let him ride with or talk to strangers. So he walks home by himself. She thinks he looks ok, so she gets back in her car and drives home, with, to be sure, a lot of guilt on her conscience. The boy goes home, tells his mother what happened, then falls asleep on the bed. His sleep turns out to be a coma. Something has happened to a vessel in his brain, and he dies in the hospital.

            The boy's eighth birthday would have been the next day, and the parents had hired a baker to make a cake for him. The baker calls the family to arrange a pick up, but they don't want to be bothered explaining the situation to him. He gets angry. It was a lot of work for him to make that cake. After a few drinks he calls them again, making insulting and perhaps threatening remarks about their child. The parents later surmise who the caller is, and they visit him in anger. When he hears that the child died, he is mortified. Suddenly he becomes compassionate and comforts the grieving parents. We get the impression that they forgive and accept that comfort.

            These are typical of the many incidents in the film. What Altman seems to be saying is that things just happen. When we judge others, we usually don't know their story. If we did, we would not blame; we would rather reach out to forgive and comfort. Everybody means well, but it's just awfully hard to live in this world, and it often becomes too much for us.

            The mistakes people make in this film can usually be summarized in terms of the film's title. People do wrong things, because it is just too much trouble to do right: too much trouble to really understand someone else's feelings, or to take all the precautions that morality dictates.

            I can sympathize with that attitude up to a point. Scripture does teach us to be slow to judge others, and it is true that many, possibly most, of our anger at others is due to ignorance. And certainly this world could do with a whole lot more compassion and forgiveness. And Ecclesiastes has a lot to say about the apparent randomness of events in the world, and how many of our best efforts come to naught.

            But I fear that Altman is generalizing here. He seems to want to say that everyone is basically good-- even the murderers and adulterers among us. Our problems are caused by our finitude, our being misplaced in the social and cosmic orders of things. Listen to Jack Lemmon telling his long-estranged son why he was unfaithful to his wife: just one thing happened, then another. No one was to blame, least of all him.

            That, certainly, is not God's universe, but Altman's. Altman is a persuasive filmmaker, and his universe almost looks real. But there are moral and metaphysical dimensions in creation that he knows nothing about. Certainly a Christian must take him to task at least for his lack of consistency: if adultery and cruelty are just accidents, then compassion is too. If we are not to judge the former, why should we admire the latter? But when Altman turns from tragedy to forgiveness and compassion, his moral attitude changes from relativism to preachiness. The Christian answer is neither moral relativism, nor unfounded preachiness, nor anything in between these extremes. It is, rather, a recognition that there is a living God who sets firmly the standards for human behavior, who has also shown compassion upon us in Jesus. We love, not because sin doesn't exist, but because Jesus loved us.