American Beauty
Much like Easy Rider signaled the true end to the tumultuous decade that was the 1960s, this 1999 Instant Classic can be hailed as the film that brought an end to the descent into potted plant conformity that was the 1990s, where the American people embraced a smooth-talking huckster named Bill Clinton as their President and adopted a clockwork-like mentality that doing the same thing day in, day out, would lead to happiness, prosperity, and personal fulfillment. The film centers around Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey), whom in the throes of a mid-life crisis, develops a sexual fixation on his teenage daughter’s best friend and then hooks up with a drug dealer next door to take up smoking marijuana again, but not just any kind of marijuana, but instead a genetically engineered brand that provides a perfect, mellow high with no paranoia and which costs $2000 for a tiny little brick, leading him to liberate himself from any and all sense of conformity, including no longer respecting his domineering, shrewish wife, quitting his job and going to work at a fast food place flipping burgers, and spending most of his free time exercising and getting in shape in the hope of winning his teenage goddess. Now, if the film had been centered solely around Spacey’s transcendent, Oscar-winning turn, it probably would have been good enough, but the script by Alan Ball manages the feat of turning this into an actual ensemble film, with literally NO boring characters in the mix and constantly keeping us off balance with the way they develop. In some ways, this can be looked at as the greatest stoner comedy ever made, while in other ways stands even today as a film whose search for truth continues to make it relevant, to all ages, even as it achieves the not so mean feat of allowing different people to have a different interpretation of its themes, no matter what your background or politics. What is obvious is evidenced by the film’s tagline: Look Closer, as Spacey and the others ultimately prove that what we see on the surface is usually not what the truth is within, and the rest of the outstanding cast follows suit: Annette Bening as the real estate-selling wife is a nightmare certainly on the surface, but when we see how fragile and broken she is on the inside, we come to give her our empathy and sympathy; Thora Birch as the daughter is lost and confused seemingly, but is truthfully a spoiled rotten brat with zero appreciation for her cushy life and always looking for the tiniest excuse to complain and show rebellion; Wes Bentley as the drug dealer next door is perhaps the oddest one, with the specialized weed he smokes being merely a metaphor for the idea that he almost exists on a more enlightened plane than anyone else, fully confident in God’s existence and his own place in the world as he liberates Spacey and his daughter from their shackles while displaying such strange behaviors as videotaping nearly everything he sees because he feels there is so much beauty in the world (his monologue while watching a tape of a bag blowing in the breeze is nearly award-worthy in itself); Mena Suvari as the teen nymphet best friend is perhaps the best-written character in that she comes off as so realistic in portraying this child of the 90s as being shallow, superfluous, and pseudo-cynical because she thinks that is the cool way to be (all traits that have gotten sadly even more pronounced with teenage girls in recent years); and Chris Cooper as Bentley’s Marine Colonel father is perhaps the most tragic character of all, physically abusing his son to instill discipline in him when actually it makes him less so, and overall just being so obsessed with his son and the man he could turn out to be that he defeats his own purpose and ensures that his kid will be a space case pothead for the rest of his life, with the big “twist” that occurs towards the end not being the obvious shock moment some think it is, but rather a desperate, pathetic last-ditch attempt to hold onto his boy even as he loses him. Add in a smattering of quality actors in supporting parts, such as Peter Gallagher as Bening’s smooth real estate rival whom she embarks on an affair with; Allison Janney as the completely mentally broken wife and mother to Cooper and Bentley; and Scott Bakula and Sam Robards as the gay couple who lives in the neighborhood, and you’ve got one of the sharpest put together lineups ever. Special mention should be made of Conrad Hall’s cinematography which brings this screwed up world and people to life in a way nobody can, Thomas Newman’s mellowy score peppered with some classic rock songs on the soundtrack, and most amazingly the fact that director Sam Mendes was actually making his debut here as a film director, and scored an Oscar as a result right out of the gate. As we go on nearly 15 years since this movie’s release, we can reflect on the fact that American neurosis has only gotten worse since, with 9/11 not helping matters any, and the issues of repression and being able to have your own opinion without fear of retribution help contribute to our modern climate where our country is literally locked into a metaphorical civil war for our very souls, thus making this film eerily prescient that the worse was yet to come, even as it continues to stand today as arguably the greatest work of cinematic Art to come out of its decade…
10/10