A Prairie Home Companion finds its voice on film

The compelling quality of radio is that it is perhaps the most intimate experience a person can have... next to marriage.

For nearly 15 years, I have scrubbed the tub, folded laundry, and pulled the weeds alone while listening to Garrison Keillor's tales of Guy Noir, Dusty and Lefty, and Lake Woebegone. This evening, I watched A Prairie Home Companion in a theatre filled with people who knew the theme song and got the jokes. It was almost like a meeting of the Secret Brotherhood of the Chatterbox Cafe.

PHC is complete. Completely funny. Completely melancholy. Completely engaging. The stage is set with the romantic accoutrements of a live radio show. Most fantastic are the performances of Kevin Kline, Meryl Streep, Lilly Tomlin, Tommy Lee Jones, Virginia Madson, Woody Harrelson, John C. Reilly, and dare I admit it, Lindsey Lohan. And there are secret gems. Names you'll only know if you've listened to the live show. Names like Sue Scott, Tim Russell and Tom Keith.

As an avid listener, I tried to reign in my expectations. A movie can never fully imitate what you imagine. But, PHC invites your expectations. It gracefully maneuvers where others only clod. The grounding element is the man himself, Garrison Keillor.

This films unique quality is that it fosters and nurtures its best asset, that soft-spoken, unshakeable, dry wit that is the Keillor voice. The medium changed. The characters came to life. A camera moved in for a close up. But Keillor remained the unassuming storyteller who merely weaves his way through his last show—just another Prairie Home Companion.

As the final credits rolled, I realized that there was not a single poor performance, not a plot line I didn't buy or scene that didn't fit. And even more exciting is the pleasure of being well entertained by a movie as satifying as the radio show.