What has happened to film makers and the reviewers that laud their work with words like "amazing," and "profound," and, the oft over used category of "masterpiece?" Are these critics giving us their impression of a film's substance, or lack there of, or are they simply becoming mouthpieces for the film industry who's purpose is to sucker us in to purchasing tickets in order to assure themselves employment? First "Lost in Translation," and now "Prarie Home Companion"--lord above, what is the world coming to? Let me alienate as many people as possible who might find fault with this review by saying, from the get go, I positively despise films that force me to "get" them. Furthermore, I have little patience for people who feel superior for seeing something deep and meaningful disguised behind what, to the rest of the world, appears to be pure and utter schlock. "Lost in Translation" divided moviegoers into two categories: those of us who were bored silly, and the suddenly enlightened, intellectually superior group that pulled a higher message out of the toilet--or at least acted as if they did. "Prarie Home Companion" is dangerously close to doing the same.<br /><br />Let's just call a spade a spade, shall we? This film made absolutely no sense. It was boring. It built and it built to a conclusion that just as easily could have been a middle or a beginning. In other words, it started nowhere, it traveled ploddingly through nowhere, and it slowly fizzled out to a finish that took us nowhere.<br /><br />The film centers around an NPR radio show who's run is coming to an end. Given what the show had to offer, I'd say it's about 10 years behind schedule in its cancellation, but, I digress. Instead of giving us any attempt at a behind the scenes story that sizzled (the biggest scandal is two geriatrics who are having a huge affair--whoo, fetch me my smelling salts), we're treated to a mind numbing "who cares" story about the crew and cast of the show. Their lives, instead of intriguing us, adversely hammer home the reason as to why those of us who don't listen to NPR, don't. Sure, they're played by Meryl Streep, Lily Tomlin, Kevin Kline, Woody Harrelson, John C. Riley, Lindsay Lohan, and company, but, the bottom line is you won't see anything out of these actors that is going to re-enforce why you like them to begin with.<br /><br />Streep and Tomlin play over-the-hill sisters who sing the same act they sang in their 20's. Harrelson and Riley play "good ol' boys" that tell lame jokes while playing the guitar. Lindsay Lohan plays Streep's daughter--an introspective, poetry writing teen who can't appreciate what her mom does for a living (I'm right there with you, Lindsay). Kevin Kline runs the show behind the scenes. Virginia Madsen plays what I thought was to be a ghost, or a symbol of death--but, truth be told, I was too disinterested to care.<br /><br />Altman has always been hit or miss with me. I enjoyed "Ready to Wear" more than most, but, didn't get the appeal of "Gosford Park" that everyone else seemed to buy. I don't consider myself to be a "thrill me" kind of moviegoer. I can appreciate films that don't have planes crashing, shoot outs, and international espionage--in fact, films that have all of the above aren't my cup of tea. But, for the love of god, watching paint dry isn't part of the process of art. Come get me when it's framed and hanging on the wall--then, I'll appreciate it.