Oh Oates and Carrandine...

The Shooting(dir. Monte Hellman)
I have never seen a film with expansive American desert as it's backdrop that felt so claustrophobic. The whole experience is one of disorientation with Hellman sometimes transitioning from a scene in an abrupt and perplexing manner. Much like the film's protagonist, the viewer has to always be on his/her toes since the journey is unexpected yet somehow feels entirely premeditated. The film's setting is really the star of the film and not Warren Oates, who still gives a good performance despite not being the star. It's shot in such a fashion that makes it so drab and unflattering that it makes all the recent films set in the desert look childish in comparison. The desert truly looks like purgatory, waiting to suffocate it's inhabitants. The editing of it's fatalistic ending is haunting in it's sun-drenched and off-beat rhythm. This is how you make an existential western. It's a masterpiece.
**** out of ****
Welcome to L.A.(dir. Alan Rudolph)
At first, it was sort of charming in it's romantic Altman-esque tapestry, but as it went along, you quickly realize how much of a master Altman was with juggling the characters and progressing the narratives in his films. The film just eventually became as aimless as its characters' love lives. Keith Carradine could be considered the main character and he essentially plays his womanizing character from Nashville in a less despicable manner with no mustache, just goatee. The whole film feels like a sub-par Nashville with characters that never feel wholly etched out and music that starts off fine but quickly becomes grating because of its repetitive sounding quality and it being overused past the point of tolerance. The film became repetitious and basically went nowhere. It has no idea what to do with it's vast repertoire of characters other than having them sometimes hook up with each other. It was bad.
*1/2 out of ****