A lot of people might not automatically think of Haven Hamilton as being one of the heroes of Robert Altman’s 1975 masterpiece, Nashville. In fact, one could argue that there really aren’t any true heroes to be found in Nashville. No one in the film lives a perfect life. Everyone has their selfish moments. Even an otherwise sympathetic character like Lily Tomlin’s Linnea Reese still cheats on her husband. That said, I would argue that, at the end of the film, Haven Hamilton proves himself to be a far better person than anyone was expecting.
Played by Henry Gibson, Haven Hamilton is first seen recording a patriotic song about “how we must be doing something right” to last 200 years. He’s one of the elder statesmen of Nashville, an obviously vain man who is instantly identifiable due to his white suits and his sideburns. He’s a figure who represents what the majority of the film’s viewers would consider to be the past. He sings about and sells a vision of an idealized life. He sings a song about how he can’t leave his wife because he loves his children too much. Meanwhile, in reality, he’s carrying on an open affair with Lady Pearl (Barbara Baxley) and barely seems to acknowledge his loyal son, Bud (Dave Peel). Bud has a nice singing voice but Haven has made it clear that the Hamilton family only has room for one singer. Instead, Haven sent his son to Harvard and then put him in charge of his business affairs. It’s easy to dismissive of Haven. He’s vain. He’s old-fashioned. He looks down on the younger talent that’s coming into Nashville. He’s a celebrity but he’s only a Nashville celebrity. An awkward scene in which he meets Elliott Gould and Julie Christie (both playing themselves) captures the contrast between Nashville and Hollywood.
And yet, at the film’s conclusion, when the gunshots ring out and Barbara Jean (Ronee Blakely) collapses on stage, Haven is the one who tries to shield her. Even after he takes a bullet to the arm, Haven is the one who shouts that “This isn’t Dallas, it’s Nashville!” Haven Hamilton is the one who cries out for someone to sing and, when Albuquerque (Baraba Harris) does so, it unites the panicked crowd and prevents a riot. While everyone was too stunned to act, Haven Hamilton took charge and he said exactly the right thing. After spending the film being viewed as an out-of-touch blowhard, Haven Hamilton is the one who risked his life in an unsuccessful attempt to save Barbara Jean. And, in the end, Haven is the one character who truly understands the power of music to bring people together. “This isn’t Dallas!” Haven shouts, a demand that his city, his kingdom, will not give into the madness that seems to be afflicting the rest of the country. At that moment, the viewer sees that, regardless of what the film may want us to think about the character, Haven Hamilton was right. We must be doing something right to have lasted 200 (or 250) years.
And, for that reason, Haven Hamilton — for all of his flaws — is today’s Hero of the Day.
Hero of the Day
Through the Shattered Lens 