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American Beauty
(rating
10 out of 10)
(1999, directed by Sam Mendes)
Very few movies make me
say Wow; this one wowed me truly. Driving through
suburbia you wouldn't notice it, but those dream homes and perfectly cut front lawns hide
some of the most anguished lives that could be lead. Keeping up appearances, the modern
American family suffers their repression, frustration and alienation; diseases of the soul
which slowly yet thorougly consume them alive. It's all there, behind the
"Welcome" mats and electric garage doors: A particular Hell which is
fundamentally modern. American Beauty captures this hell and demonstrates it along with
the best kept secret of the modern age, of any age: Life is beautiful and very much worth
living. Doubtless, this is one of the best films of the year, deserving of all its praise
and delivering on all of its hype. A tale at once funny and nightmarish; a tragedy in its
finality positively uplifting.
American Beauty has surprised me so much since I had no idea it was
coming. I first heard of it by seeing an oversize poster of it at the local multiplex. In
it, none other than Steven Spielberg is quoted as saying this film was one of the best he
has seen in years (it's been reported that he read the script on a Saturday and on Monday
morning he green-lighted the project proclaiming not a word be changed in the script)
There was no prophetic trailer, no winning Sundance or Cannes film festival...and yes, it
won the Toronto Film Festival yet that festival doesn't have the clout of the first
two...it isn't even directed by a notable director, instead brought forth as the
directorial debut of an English theater director named Sam Mendes. And what a directorial
debut, perhaps one unlike any other--a true rarity, an instantaneous masterpiece.
Kevin Spacey and Annette Bening attempt
to make love in hell.
But geez, what is this film about? Let me stop drooling for a while to
tell you. Kevin Spacey is Lester Burnham, the film's narrator and head of the Burnham
family, a family on a slow, scenic descent into hell. He begins by telling us he's going
to die, a declaration of impending tragedy, yet what we don't expect is the moving
revelations that will end the film in sheer captivating glory. He's the overrun father,
trapped in an oppresive, demeaning corporate tomb at work and trapped in a suffocating,
demoralizing domestic crypt at home. For relatives he has his wife Carolyn, Annette
Bening, a bent caricature of a woman whose sole purpose is to succeed in the local real
state market with brainwashing dose after dose of mind-altering inspirational self-help
tapes. For a daughter, he has a quiet well of hate and angst named Jane, Thora Birch,
whose pouty lips spell out beautifully how she wants her father dead, perhaps by a
murder-for-hire deal. Lester is a man who's dead in life, a willing punching bag who has
but checked out of his existence and let the show run itself, blowing him any which way it
wants. That's until he mets her, Angela, and nothing is ever the same.
What sets American Beauty apart from the ordinary suburban drama is the execution of its
harrowing premise. In the hands of a lesser director, this movie would have turned out a
mess of overacting, cliches and tv-movie-of-the-week family-drama dynamics, but Mendes
instead has stirred up a finely stewed soup with tuned performances from all the cast
members and a clean, paceful cinematic style. No short-attention span editing, but
sustained,tense-building editing. And oh, great dream sequences: Red rose petals are a
recurrent theme in the film with one key sequence in which Lester imagines Angela(Mena
Suvari) suspended on a sea of petals before him, beckoning him. A film which deserves to
be seen more than once on the big screen, American Beauty acknowledges the telling
qualities of images: Like the dancing plastic bag set asunder by the wind which Jane and
oddly captivating Ricky Fitts watch for several minutes on his big screen TV. Like the
breathtaking sight of Jane's teenage breasts when she flashes him from her bedroom
window--Jane, the hidden beauty realizing Ricky or any teenage boy's most prescious
fantasy, an honest, powerful erotic moment of cinema. I confess it--I got flustered right
there and them, feeling the awe and longing that Ricky must have felt. Like the final
aerial shot of the deceptively idyllic suburban neighborhood, revealing in the light of
the events we've just seen a moment of true grace.
Spacey's performance is perhaps the best of his career. We see
the transformation from beast of burden to raging bull; from the loser that takes a
disgracious pratfall before wife and daughter to the empowered man who smashes a dish
against a wall making it clear that he won't be ignored, a point of concentrated rage.
When Lester takes a job at a fast food joint flipping burgers, he's not only delivering a
hilarious punchline but ironically taking charge of his life. Annette Bening's Carolyn is
a finely honed character, an woman whose dense conceitedness is permanently hidden from
herself--as Lester tries to seduce her on the living room couch she's more concerned about
him spilling any beer on the furniture.
Of note is the character of Ricky's father, a burn-out marine whose
rage hides a buried, troubling secret which once revealed is the film's most ironic
moment. I personally thought it hilarious, brilliant in its absurdity.
The film's replete of lyrical, powerful images. Once it was over I had
to clap, which in turn made the entire audience at The Senator theatre clap too. If it
doesn't get the praise and revenues it deserves it would be a f**king shame. It's the film
that every brainwashed suburbanite needs to see to be jolted back to the wonder that is
life.
Armando
Valle
Oct/20/99
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