Call it the feminist argument against Suburbia even though there is no explicit statement to that effect. What this movie illustrates though is why and how the suburban housewife becomes desperate. If I recall correctly, this is the second movie in the year 2008 that Kate Winslett killed herself in. And if I’m not mistaken, she has received a Golden Globe for this one and an Oscar and another Golden Globe for the other (The Reader). Surely, this will spawn jokes about actresses jumping at roles in which they die tragically in order to bait the Oscars. Hilary Swank has gone by that way twice already (Million Dollar Baby, Boys Don’t Cry). Anyway back to Revolutionary Road. I will admit that I liked this film, enjoyed it even. But that isn’t because it’s warm or funny or romantic. I liked it because it makes manifest in artistic form everything I believe about suburbia, in that, it describes it as empty and hopeless. This movie is preaching to the choir. I already thought that such a story was completely possible, and very rational. Call this movie Max Propaganda. I have had ideas of buying the DVD and hosting an anti-suburbia party in my New York City apartment. In it, we would play ‘Revolutionary Road’ on mute in the living room and celebrate the fact that we don’t live in such desperate, empty, and hopeless places. I really want to watch this movie in Paris. See the film, you’ll know what I mean.
Anyway, now really back to Revolutionary Road. It concerns the volatile marriage of Frank and April Wheeler (played by Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslett respectively). They live in a suburb. Every morning Frank gets into the only car they own and commutes into the city to work at a job he hates. April stays at home, and stranded in the morass of nothingness that is suburbia (and with no way out because Frank took the only car to work) she does household chores and slowly goes insane with boredom. There is a particularly good shot of her taking out the trash and standing silently in her driveway looking down Revolutionary Road. You would expect tumbleweed to blow through the place is so dead. The only respite she seems to have from this existence is when a neighbor stops by. Then she has someone to drink coffee with for about five minutes. Other than that, she spends the day completely alone. After a couple of fights, April comes up with a crazy idea. Why don’t they completely ditch the godforsaken place and move to Paris. She would get a job and he would have time to find himself. Frank thinks about it and says that he will. April falls in love with him again because he seems to understand.
But does he really? There is this idea out there about suburbia in general. That the way it is set up and structured is fundamentally unfair to women. The effect of its design nullifies the responsibilities of the man to his family. He commutes to a distant place where he has free rein to do whatever he wants (Frank in this movie has an affair). In contrast, the wife is stuck at home and forced to raise the kids on her own. Is it a control thing? Did men (all the city planners were men) purposely design a system of living that gave themselves freedom to screw around while encapsulating the women in isolated places, thereby constricting their freedom. Whether there was malicious intent or not, the result is a system where women are deprived of the ability to take care of themselves and thus are dependent on their husbands for everything: money, shelter, and especially social connections. So when Frank decides not to go to Paris, April, of course, cannot also. Is it any wonder that the women of the baby boom generation, which grew up in these homes, took their college educations, got jobs, and exploded the divorce rate in the seventies? Surely they must have noted in some abstract way that the life of a suburban housewife is some sort of scam.
Frank’s character in this story is given the benefit of the doubt. Once he is offered a raise at his job and April becomes pregnant, he thinks that the choice to stay has a certain amount of logic to it. Like many men, he doesn’t get why April would be unhappy. They have a beautiful house, nice kids, and all this stuff. And if she really feels bad about it, they now have enough money to send her to a shrink. This conveniently forgets the idea that stuff doesn’t make up for a lack of a life and a semblance of independence. (If that were true there would be a hell of a lot more women becoming nuns.) But whatever, you know, I suppose that’s a hard concept to grasp what with all that American Dream house with a white picket fence and two cars propaganda garbage.
The director Sam Mendes has made good films about suburban malaise before (American Beauty) but they were never as biting as this. I loved a few scenes that brought back vivid memories of my own experience. A father asks his kids what is on TV and is answered with vacant stares directed at static, the whole presentation aspect of playing house: where so much energy is expended to impress the rare guest, and when the couple gets double parked when they visit a local bar they can’t leave because the local bar is too far away from their home. Just the overall quietness of the entire thing, where nothing is happening, nothing has happened, and nothing will happen was eerily familiar. There is possibly no truthful way to tell a story set in suburbia without it being boring. That’s why very few movies are set there.
Michael Shannon got an Oscar nomination for his role as a crazy man that basically reiterates the only sane way to look at Suburbia. (See my comments above). For once I would love to see a rational person say these things, but I guess a mental patient is better than nothing. He does a very good job. He’s one of those actors you wish were better looking and thus would get better roles. See him in ‘Shotgun Stories’ if you want to see that guy do some great work in a leading role.
No comments:
Post a Comment