Revolutionary
Road, Sam Mendes’ return to the domestically dysfunctional stomping
grounds that made his name back in 1999 with American Beauty, has given
me all sorts of grief. I thought I was pretty much done for the year,
ready to call it a day on 2008 and then along comes this movie. Now
I’ve gotta go back and put Revolutionary Road on all my best of lists,
not only for the year, but possibly for all time.
If I was the swearing type, I’d
have exactly the expletive to describe my reaction to this film; it is
one much more closely associated with professional wrestling matches or
special effects blockbusters. Revolutionary Road is that much of a
shock of power and gravity. Like a kick in the gut, the performances
are raw and brutal. Mendes’ great achievement is leveling his actors’
emotional nakedness against the veneer of the self-possession and
plastic reserve of the film’s 1950’s setting.
Frank and April Wheeler are just
a couple of crazy, dreamy-eyed kids in love. At least they were before
marriage, kids and the perfect house in the suburbs came along.
Somewhere Frank’s romantic talk of travel and April’s unconventional
life as a struggling actress fell by the wayside of their quaint
Connecticut surroundings. April’s discomfiture at settling into the
mode of the typical 1950’s family seeps into every aspect of her being.
In the role of the breadwinner and man of the house, Frank has slipped
into upwardly mobile docility far easier than his restless wife and
cannot relate to April’s rages against happy mediocrity. To April, the
encroaching languid
domesticity
threatens to overtake their pledge to always hold on to the young,
progressive couple they were. Desperate to seize the last gasps of
their heady ideals, April pleads with Frank to come away from the stale,
bourgeois existence that is consuming them and run off to live the life
of true bohemians in France. One person’s freedom is another’s bondage
and Frank and April struggle to find the common ground that will allow
them to be happy again.
Based on a 1961 novel by Richard
Yates, Revolutionary Road is a study in the moral claustrophobia of an
era. The film shines a light on marital disappointment and fading
dreams that aren’t so far removed from this age as then. April’s wrath
against the dawning of comfortable mediocrity and “settling down” is
relevant to anyone who’s watched a lover become less than the superhero
you were sure was there. That frustration, bouncing against the rubber
walls of a beautiful home in 1950’s Connecticut, is made all the more
stifling when the entire neighbourhood is watching and judging. April’s
passion for life and one last grab at it is smothered by all around her,
including her mate, and is ridiculed for being a childish or unrealistic
decision. The utter betrayal April feels realising that she and Frank
have grown into utterly different people than the two young dreamers
they began as is sealed when Frank questions her very sanity at her
inability to happily live in what he has decided is a perfect life.
This is the best thing that
either Leonardo DiCaprio or Kate Winslet has ever done. Considering
that Winslet is chronically excellent in everything she does, that
states much. The very antithesis of their previous hearts and flowers
coupling in 1997’s Titanic; one could easily muse that this might have
been how Jack and Rose’s life turned out had he been able to stay on
that floating table. DiCaprio lends an oozy charm to Frank’s smug,
entitled alpha-male working drone. Frank is comfortable with his place
in the world because despite his initial reluctance at following in his
father’s footsteps at the same company; he’s simply got the best a
working stiff can ask for. The three-martini lunches and access to
disposable, dewy-eyed secretaries are simply a matter of course. As his
star rises within his company, the more frightened Frank becomes of
losing the stability that April despises. DiCaprio does a lovely bit of
balancing between the smarmy philanderer and the mystified young man who
no longer understands the woman he is still besotted with. Winslet’s
April is arch and passionate, nurturing, confident and needy. As her
own dream of becoming an actress dies in a Connecticut school
auditorium, ill-placed words by a well-meaning, clumsy Frank add bricks
to the wall of her reserve to be more than just another suburban mom.
Without histrionics, Winslet’s ability to convey how trapped April is by
every aspect of her life is breathtaking. Under April’s constant public
scrutiny, Winslet gives more away with less - a flick of a cigarette and
a downward gaze - than scores of others actors of her generation could
manage with reams of dialogue. In the forcibly subdued veneer of
acceptable 1950’s behaviour, April fairly chokes on her distaste for
everything she and Frank have become; frightened, boring and finally
ordinary. When neither hysterics nor silence avail her nothing, one can
feel the walls closing in on her. One particular moment finds April
Stepford Wife perfect, the absolute prototype of the 1950’s housewife
and it is absolutely chilling.
The fantastic supporting cast is
the Maraschino cherry on the Rob Roy. From Dylan Baker as Frank’s
slimy, unctuous cubicle mate, to Kathy Bates as Mrs. Givings, the
Wheeler’s adoring, nosy friend and realtor, to David Harbour as the next
door neighbour whose adoration for the Wheelers goes a bit deeper. The
standout in the supporting cast is Michael Shannon as the Givings’
mentally ill son, John. The Givings reckon being around a model young
couple like the Wheelers might help John to acclimate himself back into
society. John’s unclouded insight and lack of verbal inhibition cuts a
swathe through the fluffy veil of pretense of the Wheelers’ public
front, forcing even the couple to face hard truths. Shannon’s nervous,
imposing presence jolts a film that was already moving along quite
nicely. His shattering of the Wheelers’ carefully posed perfection is a
band-aid torn off a raw wound. It’s not lost on April that the
institutionalised John is the only one who sees her life in the same way
she does.
Comparisons will obviously be
made to Mendes’ American Beauty. Well, beyond taking that same suburban
nightmare territory, Revolutionary Road goes so much further. The
1950’s is much more fertile ground for the mannered, simmering
desperation abundant in the piece. Sam Mendes masterfully conducts his
impeccable cast, alternately reining in and allowing controlled
fireworks of verbal savagery to suit the age of apropos and good
reputations. It’s been a long time since I was haunted by a film, but
Revolutionary Road will stay in my eye for a very long time.
Brilliant, this.
~ The Lady Miz Diva
December 10th,
2008
PS:
Click here to read our
chat with Kate Winslet. No, really, Kate Winslet.
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