Dear, darling Bobby Altman checked out today. The man was a cinematic genius, as I would know, being one myself. Without his wonderful M*A*S*H, starring Elliott Gould and Robert Alda, we'd never have had the finest TV comedy of all time: AfterM*A*S*H. His masterpiece NASHVILLE showed us that you could make a better movie with old Laugh-In stars than The Thing With Two Heads, which I'm sure you all recall, featured Chelsea Brown and Sweet Dick Whittington. His fabulous A Wedding restarted the stage career of Carol Burnett. His brilliant 3 Women was thought-provoking, as wherever it played, people came out saying, "What the hell was that about?", as they also did after Quintet. Brewster McCloud showed nerdy kids everywhere that they can't actually fly, saving thousands of lives. His tale of horny seamen, Popeye, launched the film career of Robin Williams, without whom we'd never have had What Dreams May Come, Toys, Hook, Jack, Patch Adams, or Death to Smoochy. And his A Prairie Home Companion reminded us of why we don't watch radio. Only Bobby Altman could make actors talking over each other in an incomprehensible aural muddle into an acclaimed style.
Of course Bobby begged me repeatedly to come out of retirement and star in his films, but I said, "No, no! Sally Kellerman needs the work. All I need is a good shag."
But Bobby will always be even closer to my heart in a very special way. You may remember his announcement at the Oscars last year that he had had a heart transplant. Well it was no news to me, because darlings, I got his old one!
Au Revoir Bobby Altman. Two-thirds of your work will always be cherished, and that's a hell of a lot more than most directors. In the words of that dear Canadian bone rack Celine Dion, Your heart will go one.
I hope!
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