The Player finally arrived on Home Video today in 1993, after an April 1992 theatrical release.
By the early 90’s, the slow rise of indie cinema and the DIY credibility of young film makers like Tarantino, Linklater, the Coens made it seem like anyone could fulfil their cinematic vision while keeping a safe distance from the grinding teeth of the Hollywood mangler. Selling out was apparently becoming optional. But writer Michael Tolkin (Gleaming The Cube) offered the perfect cautionary fable for any aspiring artist who felt a burning desire to tell a story while gaining A-list credibility and studio legitimacy.
For the uninitiated, Tim Robbins plays a ruthless hot shot film exec whose life descends into paranoia and chaos after an altercation with an obsessed screenwriter and some unrelenting competition from a charismatic upstart. Just another day in the picture business.
Its contemptuous and militant disillusionment feels very much at home in 1992, and Robert Altman’s patented neo-verité noire style does a good job of rubbing showbiz’s darker underbelly. Like Who Framed Roger Rabbit, it’s a satirical cameo-crammed story of greed, sex and murder that’s set deep in the tinsel machine’s engine – and also doubles as a scathing satire of Hollywood’s own inner-workings.
Yes, I compared it to Roger Rabbit. It’s a personal favourite that rightly belongs on the movies-about-movies shelf with Swimming with Sharks, Bowfinger or Living in Oblivion… but it’s worthy of sharing space with distinguished classics like Sunset Boulevard.