|
|
American Beauty
|
|
Spacey, Bening
|
By Jana J. Monji
Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey in a low-key, well-nuanced performance) is a
man already dead, remembering a year of betrayals that slowly, imperceptibly
led to his murder.
At the age of 42, he faces his mid-life crisis with a certain crazed
heroism. His youthful dreams of achievement and love have been shattered, and
he is engulfed in a loveless marriage and a bland life of mediocrity.
"Jerking off in the shower" is the high point of his day.
His wife, Carolyn (Annette Bening), lives in the shadow of another man, the
top real estate guru (a silver-haired heel played with unaffected relish by
Peter Gallagher), as she slaps herself into plastic smiles and positive
thinking. She worries about matching the colors of her clogs and garden
shears and having on the proper dinner music because appearances are what
matter.
His sullen daughter, Jane (Thora Birch), wants him dead or so she tells her
drug-dealing boyfriend, Ricky Fitts (Wes Bentley), a voyeur who finds amazing
beauty in the mundane objects of life and sells high-grade marijuana to
Lester. Watching Ricky Fitts tell off his boss and slyly control his
fanatical, military father (played with grim focus by Chris Cooper)
lubricates Lester's mind. He recalls the best summer of his life--flipping
hamburgers at a fast food joint and getting laid.
But it's Lester's libido that finally sets him into motion. He meets a
foul-mouthed Lolita, the blonde cheerleader friend of his daughter, Angela
(Mena Suvari), and falls into infatuation. He dreams of red rose petals and
the nubile promise of a younger woman, something hinted at through the
strains of "Bali Hai" in an earlier scene. Like any man in the battle against time and age, he feverishly re-makes himself with some weight-lifting to tighten his gut and chisel his chest. To hedge his bets, he buys a babe-magnet car, a red 1970 Firebird.
The English stage director who revised and revitalized Cabaret, Sam
Mendes, has taken these American cliches of surburbia and given them a sharp
edge and lush visualizations. Alan Ball's script crackles with acerbic wit
and sudden surprise--we know Lester will be murdered and the reasons seem
clear, but we don't know who or why as disparate details slowly intertwine.
Yet there is a disturbing undertone here. All the women define themselves
by men. The daughter, Jane, finds courage to leave her snobby girlfriend
when she hooks up with Ricky, a nightmarish warping of the boy-next door.
The wife worshipfully finds sexual fulfillment and hope with the real estate
hotshot who has just been dumped by his much younger trophy wife. Angela finds
reassurance that she is not ordinary from a man, Lester, who lusts for a
sexual transfusion of youth. Ricky's mother (Allison Janney) is held hostage
by her husband who is driven by a dreadful secret.
The two supposedly underage girls are the ones whose breasts are blatantly
offered for the audience's viewing pleasure. These are the most repellent
moments of an otherwise well-told, wickedly witty tale. Oh, yes, we see the
bare chest of Ricky and Lester, but nothing that isn't perfectly acceptable
on any California beach. Their chests are not shown as offerings intrinsic
to foreplay. The daughter, Jane, flashes hers to signal her sexual readiness
to her videotaping neighbor. Angela allows Lester to bare hers as he
prepares to fulfill his fantasy.
No gardener will be impressed by the puny American Beauty's seen bordering
the white picket fence of the Burnham home. They don't look fussed over, but
too young and recent. Perhaps the American Beauty referred to in the title
aren't the roses at all, but the nubile breasts of underage girls.
|
|
|
|
