Most of the time, when a brutal suicide is central to a film’s premise, you’d expect the plot to cover the emotional fallout around the death. The person’s family gathers, spends time grieving and reckoning with what caused them to take their life and then begins the process of settling the estate. Well, at least that’s how you expect things to go, and sure, that’s kind of the concept in Robert Altman’s 1999 film Cookie’s Fortune, but then add in a whole lot more ridiculous, comedic moments set in a few-thousand person town, and you’ll begin to understand the film’s tone. If the movie were trying to take itself seriously, then watching it would likely entail cringing pretty hard, but, fortunately, it doesn’t and it comes off as quite enjoyable. There are just a few moments where you’ll find yourself scoffing and letting your eyes roll.
Penned by Anne Rapp, Altman’s frequent collaborator during the final decade of his career, Cookie’s Fortune is set in Holly Springs, Mississippi, a charming Southern town. The dowager Jewel Mae “Cookie” Orcutt (Patricia Neal) lives in a large home with her handyman and closest companion, Willis Richland (Charles S. Dutton). They’ve been friends forever and are very close, and he cares deeply for Cookie and her belongings, including a large collection of her deceased husband’s handguns, which he meticulously cleans in their first scene together. The two comment on the cabinet that holds the guns, which won’t stay shut no matter how many times they try to latch it. Every time it creaks open, it’s almost like the guns are beckoning Cookie to use one and join her husband again, whom she misses greatly. Eventually, she does take her life, though she makes time to write Willis a note and don all her best jewelry before putting a pillow over her face and pulling the trigger.
Willis is the one who gets a note from Cookie as he puts in more work to make her life comfortable than her family, particularly nieces Camille Dixon (Glenn Close) – a religious, manipulative and incredibly obnoxious local theater director – and her sister Cora Duvall (Julianne Moore), a submissive, whimsy and distracted minion of Camille’s. The two are in the final stages of production on Salome. The play is set to be performed on Easter at the local church, and the creative direction is overseen entirely by Camille while Cora stars. The only other person who cares about Cookie is Emma (Liv Tyler), Cora’s estranged daughter, who floats in and out of town due to legal troubles, lives in a car and works odd jobs around town.
When Camille goes to Cookie’s to find a glass fruit bowl for her Easter Sunday spread, she finds the nasty scene upstairs, and in place of any normal reaction, an unhinged and gleeful Camille uses the opportunity to steal her aunt’s expensive jewelry, including a garish C-shaped diamond and ruby necklace that she yanks right off her dead body. On top of theft, she manically eats the suicide note that Cookie left for Willis—one of the film’s most absurd moments—and convinces Cora that someone broke in, shot and robbed Cookie. She then stages said scene. Before you see her pitch the gun into the garden and fail to notice the young neighbor boy watching her stage everything, you know this ridiculous setup couldn’t get past even the most elementary of investigations. When the gun is found – well, pointed out by Camille herself in an attempt to walk back over the footprints she left – Willis’ prints are identified, and he’s arrested, despite admitting he’d cleaned all the guns the night before and his prints would be on all of them. Still,
bringing him to jail allows the film to make lighthearted but relevant social commentary about how even when “the help” is nothing but doting, Black people are always seen as the culprit in the eyes of the law.
There’s an array of other characters to keep track of that involve the investigation, mainly the new hire who is in pursuit of Emma, Jason (Chris O’Donnell), and Sheriff Lester (Ned Beatty), who never falters in his belief that Willis is innocent, mainly because well, they’d spent time fishing! His love for fishing is another random trope the film employs. It’s in these scenes at the prison that the comedy comes through – either because it’s somewhat funny or because the script is so silly. So convinced of Willis’ innocence, Sheriff Lester, a local attorney and Emma sit with him in the unlocked prison cell and play Scrabble, discussing Cookie and her possessions that prove critical to the case. You know Willis can’t be too threatened with the crime of manslaughter when he’s kicking back with his friends, and especially not when the jail staff allows Emma to bring in an Easter dinner spread for the two of them to enjoy in the cell. Oh, and Emma even voluntarily commits herself to the cell due to all her unpaid parking tickets, also firmly believing in his innocence. Moments after the dinner in prison, Willis leans down, slides a metal tray of prison food away from him, and delivers perhaps the most absurd line: “Man, if the electric chair doesn’t kill me, this jail food will.” If you think he’s seriously threatened with capital punishment, you haven’t been watching the film!
Despite feeling like it’s aged a bit, Cookie’s Fortune is actually quite fun. By setting the film in such a small Southern town, some of the ridiculousness is easily forgiven, while the over-the-top theatrics Close employs to play Camille are great, as is Moore’s meek and subdued performance of Cora. In her final moments, Moore really shines, though explaining how would ruin the film’s rather clever twist. Courtney B. Vance’s supporting role as a detective from a larger division, and Niecy Nash as another police member flustered at Vance’s swagger, make for two of the best supporting performances. With Nash’s character, there’s more social commentary, though unintentional when filmed, as she’s been acting since the ’90s, and it’s taken nearly three decades for her to get roles that fit her talents; she won her first Emmy just two weeks ago!
Released in the final stages of Altman’s career, you could never be accused of lacking a knowledge of film if you never saw Cookie’s Fortune – it’s hardly available to rent or stream – but if you’re a fan of its talented cast, Altman or just a lighthearted ’90s comedy, you’ll certainly enjoy seeing it.
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