The director’s razor-sharp Hollywood satire offered up a horribly prescient look at an industry turning away from creativity and toward commercialismWatching Robert Altman’s The Player nearly 30 years after its release is like buying a ticket for a time-traveling Hollywood tour bus.
There’s Jack Lemmon playing piano at a party and Martin Mull eating lunch on an outdoor patio.
Look, John Cusack and Anjelica Huston are sitting together at that restaurant, and isn’t that Cher entering a charity event in a stunning red dress? These actors, and many more, play themselves in The Player, and most have just one line of dialogue.
Some have none.
Brief as their appearances may be, they play a vital role, situating the incisive and absurdist showbiz story in the real world.
Or at least in the real Hollywood.
How did Altman get them to work for nothing in such minuscule roles?
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