At the outset, we're introduced to the ensemble cast. There's Camille Dixon, played by Glenn Close who's directing Salome at the local Presbyterian Church. Close is so very believable fluttering around in her floral skirts, so absorbed in her theatricality and southern manners that she assumes she can do as she pleases.

Then there's Cora, Camille's mousy sister, who does everything Camille says. Everything. Julianne Moore really shines in the role, if in a deliberately lack-luster way. But when Cora comes into her own in the penultimate scene, you can't help but feel you're witnessing genius.

The story line concerns the death of Camille and Cora's aunt: Cookie. Patricia Neal popped out of retirement for the role and is most effective in the part. Cookie has lived long enough and decides to be with her husband, whom she misses terribly. But when Camille discovers Cookie's body, she doesn't want the shame of suicide hanging over the family, so she makes a few changes to the scene, which leads to a murder investigation and so on.

There's many more members to the ensemble cast. Liv Tyler is the wayward child of Cora. She's in love with Chris O'Donnell and loved by Lyle Lovett, a somewhat familiar scenario for gorgeous girls in small towns. But the mastery in Altman's unfolding of the romance is both touching and heart-breaking.

Other ideas and themes weave in an out of "Cookie's Fortune," many left without clarification when the film is over. But what is abundantly clear is that Altman has a firm grip on the absurdity of the human existence and enjoys himself immensely in bringing it to life in this richly comic and entertaining film.