The suburbs can
be a fascinating place in America. On the surface it seems idyllic, with its
white picket fences, happy parents who love their kids, and perfectly mowed
grass. However you don’t have to dig too deep to find kids selling drugs,
crumbling marriages, and middle-aged husbands having fantasies about their
daughter’s friend in the cheerleading squad. Such is the suburb depicted in Sam
Mendes’ American Beauty (1999)
featuring Kevin Spacey as one of many men from that world having a mid-life,
and potentially existential, crisis. However you have to admire the fact his
character seems intent on having not just a regular crisis, but the mother of
all mid-life crises.
Mendes’ film went
on to win four Oscars including Best Picture and Best Actor, which at the time
I found quite surprising because I was really pinning for The Hurricane starring Denzel Washington as Ruben Carter. I was
having a hard time understanding how a movie about a dead-beat dad could be
better than a story about a wrongly imprisoned boxer who inspired Bob Dylan to
write his whole story in song form. I still think Denzel Washington gave the
better performance, but last year I decided to give American Beauty its day in court when it became available on
Netflix. Verdict: great cast, pitch-black humour, a solid third act, and the
story has interesting things to say about materialism, repression and parenting.
On paper Lester
Burnham (Spacey) should be happy. He has a good paying job as an advertising
executive and writer, a good house in the suburbs, and has a wife and daughter.
Unfortunately like many people he finds no joy in his job anymore, his sex life
with his wife Carolyn (Annette Bening) is non-existent, and their daughter Jane
(Thora Birch) just can’t wait to be old enough to leave them behind. Even
worse, Lester is narrating these facts from beyond the grave since he is now
deceased. That’s no spoiler since he tells this minutes into the opening of the
movie.
Before getting
into Lester inevitable demise, the audience learns more about the people around
him who are hiding just as many secrets as he is. Carolyn puts on a brave face
everyday before trying to sell a house nobody wants, and eventually decides to release
stress by having an affair with her business rival Buddy Kane (Peter
Gallagher). Living across the street from the Burnhams are the Fitts, whose
family patriarch Colonel Frank Fitts (Chris Cooper) is an authoritarian
homophobe. His son Ricky (Wes Bentley) fancies himself an artistic filmmaker,
but that doesn’t pay much so he sells weed under his father’s nose.
Lester embarks on
a quest towards self-liberation by developing a pretty creepy obsession for his
daughter’s friend Angela (Mena Suvari) after zeroing in on her during a
cheerleading show. With the goal to become his best version, he starts working
out in his garage, quits his boring job and goes to work at the fast food place
of his youth, and of course trades in his family car for a sports car. Also, he
becomes one of Ricky’s best customers using the horror film Re-Animator as a code for their drug
transaction.
Is Lester being
selfish? Certainly, but at least for the first time in a long time he is being
honest. His likability is greatly helped by Spacey who as a performer can make
the most devious of sociopaths come off as charismatic. Say what you want about
his murderous Frank Underwood on House of
Lies, but when that man talks you listen. In this movie Spacey conveys an
emerging anger and energy as Lester blackmails his boss and shatters dishes at
the dinner table while demanding someone pass the damn asparagus plate.
Spacey’s
character was not the only one to show a streak of rebellion towards society at
the end of the 90s. In 1999 alone you had Ron Livingston suddenly not caring
about his boss and TPS reports in Office
Space, and there was Edward Norton who in response to consumer culture
started beating people up in Fight Club.
Like these characters, Lester’s rebellion is somewhat short sighted. Working at
the fast food joint of his youth will not make him 20 years old again, and
sleeping with a cheerleader, even if she is not against the idea, would bring
infinitely more trouble than its worth. Alan Ball’s script is smart enough to
address these issues and the consequences of Lester’s actions in the third act.
Clearly American Beauty was a good indicator of
the cultural zeitgeist at the time, but it seems just as relevant today. The
world may seem more open and diverse, but there are still plenty of people who
feel pressure to conform into what the world expects of them and are just on
the edge of exploding.
Comments
Post a Comment