I just tried watching this on my DVR recording I got off of TCM a few months back. The soundtrack was so tinny I couldn't understand half of what was being said. I tried the closed captioning but it wasn't there. I suppose it would be funnier if I was actually working in the movie business or lived in LA, but there seemed to be too many "in jokes". And this mess is in the Criterion Collection??

Robert Altman's inside-Hollywood meta-comedy THE PLAYER is shot with a shoe-string budget but reverberates with sardonic, rapier-like kicks, and affixed with a chilling frisson that defies ethics and our expectation thanks to Michael Tolkin's trenchant script which brings Tinseltown's treacherous attributes to the forefront. Altman's much eulogized opening gambit, a nearly 8-minute long-take in the lot of a Hollywood studio, vocally pays tribute to Orson Welles' counterpart in TOUCH OF EVIL (1958), is a coup de maître to be rewinded and repeatedly viewed for its sheer coordination of the ensemble and the camera's agility in motion. Taking the center stage is Griffin Hill (Robbins), a young producer whose job is to listen to screenwriter's pitches of their ideas and to assess whether they are marketable enough to merit a go, and this producer-writer correlation is put under scrutiny as Griffin is dogged by anonymous, invective-scribed postcards, which he receives on a daily base, and after combing through telephone records, he gets the idea it is sent from David Kahane (D'Onofrio, bristling with ire and contempt), a bitter writer who might be rankled for receiving the short shrift. But gauging from Griffin's quotidian workload and the ratio of pitches he must disregard (the studio has a yearly quota of 12 to green-light), we don't get why Griffin is so sure it is David. Trying to bury the hatchet by renewing his interest in David's script set in Japan (Sofia Coppola's LOST IN TRANSLATION arrives a decade later in 2003), Griffin seeks him out and "accidentally" kills him when verbal vitriol escalating into physical violence, here Altman shrewdly predates the occurrence with Griffin calling David's home, and getting instantly bewitched by the latter's girlfriend June Gudmundsdottir (Scacchi), an Icelandic painter, under a voyeuristic spell. So whether the subsequent accident is a homicide or manslaughter, the answer is quite out there. The rest of story is against all odds, how Griffin gets away with the killing and lives happily ever after with June, does it sound like a joke? Yes, but the engagé Altman is in no fickle mood of maxing out Griffin's quagmire before the anti-climatic reveal: his current post is in a perilous state of being superseded by the new blood Larry Levy (Gallagher), a diligent detective (Lovett) breathes down his neck closely and the relationship with his colleague-cum-girlfriend Bonnie (Stevenson) turns sour as he courts June with tenacious guilt stuck in his throat, in the end of the day, he gets what he wants not what he deserves, and the final turnabout of the fictive movie starring Julia Roberts and Bruce Willis is such a slap in the face of those who harbor an airy-fairy ideology of retaining a writer's integrity in this rotten industry, only tempered by Altman's tongue-in-cheek mordancy that tactfully keep both industry insiders and outsiders entertained but not miffed, not to mention its effervescent star-spotingg game of umpteen celebrity cameos.Tom Robbins is the recipient of Cannes' BEST ACTOR award but unjustly fails to nab an Oscar nomination (the film per se is a 3-times nominee including a well-earned BEST DIRECTOR bid for Altman), who takes us through quite a rollercoaster ride with his portrait of Griffin par excellent, smirky, craven, vulnerable, besotted and careworn, all these facets are contributory to such degree of ambiguity that viewers are inwardly battling against their own conscience in terms of his denouement. Greta Scacchi is given a sizable role to send up the ostensibly exotic, free-spirited type (she might not even hail from Iceland) who just cannot say no to an opportunity of comfort and wealth like anyone else, and whose inner state is tellingly belied in their torrid love-making/confession-denial sequences, a fine achievement. Among the peripheral players, no one stands out significantly in the fray, except for a wisecracking Whoopi Goldberg, who duly earns her stripes with tart and hilarious comedy chops.In retrospect, THE PLAYER is a thrilling return-to-the-game comeback for Altman after his nadir in the 80s, and is among the most phenomenal works tackling the Hollywood hypocrisy and narrow-mindedness by lending an honest-to-goodness spin salted with tacit irony.

If you are a film buff, then The Player is one of the films you have to see.This movie feels fresh, but also feels like a great homage to classic filmmakers which are mentioned throughout. It has Welles' camera movement and look, Hitchcock's suspense and madness and a story which would suit Billy Wilder (and Hitchcock as well). While watching this film I couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer cleverness of the writing. The movie is referencing, foreshadowing and contradicting itself non stop. Which makes the movie predictable and surprising at the same time. It's like a very subtle fourth wall break which keeps coming back.Movies about Hollywood are usually satire with a bit of a comedic spin, but this film is very straight forward with it's anti-Hollywood approach. Our lead played by Tim Robbins (who gives a great performance) is not a good man, yet he's very successful backstabbing the people that care about him. The editing of this movie is good, but the 2nd act needed work. This movie has no right being two hours long and the middle just needed to be sped up a bit, no matter how many great cameos there are.This is the first time I have watched a movie, about movies about movies.

I don't like any Altman films, so I didn't expect much from this one, and didn't get anything. Meanders from one meaningless, unrelated scene to another. It's like the long intro scene is the model of the rest of the movie. It got to the point where the dialogue ceased to mean anything. I can hear the words, but nothing is registering. The fact that all these stars would appear in this dog says more about them and Hollywood than all the pseudo-jokes.It devolved into watching a stream of cameos.As one reviewer said, better to turn off the sound and just watch the celebs, one after the other.As I said, I don't like any Altman film. Like Mash, with the long, boring, pointless football game at the end, where they spit on Radar. Sure it became a good TV series, but Altman didn't write the script.Also, "The Player" was too long. After a while, it even gets boring to watch a parade of celebs. And the movie within the movie. I guess they though it was pretty clever then, and people do now, but it's been done many times before, and better. I guess if you're at a Hollywood party, with everyone stoned and drunk, and The Player is playing, everyone hardly watching, and people are saying, snootily, "Oh, look at that", one could acknowledge that this movie exists. Otherwise, no.