Today is day 3 of my Christmas of Actually Good Movies (the first day I watched "127 Hours" and the second day I watched "Identity." I don't know if I'll ever write about those movies. Not because I don't like them, just because I'm lazy). Today I watched "Revolutionary Road," a film that I liked very much from the first viewing. I think I may have watched the director's commentary on it, but I'm not sure.
The film is a story of April (you could say it's about her and her husband, but she is the real heart of the story), a wife and mother during the 50's, who knows that she has been lied to by society. She knows that the American Dream is a sham, a goal created by someone somewhere that now suffocates the life and dreams out of the oblivious masses. April is not oblivious. She knows that she was meant for a life of more than living in a house on a street where all the houses look the same, more than having and raising kids because that is what she is told to do, more than blindly accepting ideas about how life should be by the social influence of those surrounding her.
I'm not interested in retelling the film--it's good enough that you should go see it yourself. Twice. But anyway, what I'm really concerned with is two things: Michael Shannon's character John, and April's character in the last 20 minutes.
John reminds me of my friend Mihir--a sane man in a crazy world that tells him he's the crazy one. Sure, John doesn't have social skills and makes people uncomfortable. That's only because he knows the quaint, polite society is fake and uncaring. He will say what he thinks because he knows he is right and he wants other people to see it too. It's interesting to watch John, his parents, and the Wheelers interact. John's mother is horrified that she has a son who doesn't fit into the neat social stereotype that she does. When John speaks, his mother turns her head in both disgust and embarrassment; but the Wheelers listen. The three take a walk in the woods, and only now can John relax--he is with people who understand. The Wheelers see the madness in America, they see the madness in spotless houses and social etiquette and always being fine. In the woods, the three talk about how the Wheelers are leaving for Paris, getting out, finding freedom. John asks why they are leaving, and Frank (Lio DiCaprio) responds that they can't stand the hopeless emptiness. "Hopeless emptiness," John responds. "Now you've said it. Plenty of people are onto the emptiness, but it takes real guts to see the hopelessness." The three understand that America and its promises of happiness and fulfillment are lies.
The Wheelers and John seemed to connect on a deep level in the woods, which makes the next time the Wheelers, John, and his parents have lunch so interesting. Frank tells them that he and his family aren't going to Paris after all. The look on John's face shows his feeling of betrayal. John doesn't understand why this couple who seemed to get it would step backwards when they were one step from the door. But as he talks his way to reason, John confronts the Wheelers with the truth that at least Frank had failed to realize: it is more comfortable to stay than it would be to leave. It is easier for Frank to get promoted and work on some computer job than for the family to go to Paris and start over. The lure of comfort plants Frank on 115 Revolutionary Road, where he will have a well paying job and a nice front lawn, but his soul will die.
At this second lunch, April's soul begins to die. And after some time alone in the woods, April hatches a plan. This plan consists of partial surrender. She will become the woman that America wants her to be. The following morning, Frank comes downstairs to find April surprisingly making breakfast and most importantly, not angry. Her personality in this scene is the most interesting thing about the movie to me. April is cold. Yes, she says all the right things, she asks about his new job and sounds interested, she walks him to the door and straightens his tie; but under it all is a cold subversion, a woman who will play the part because she has a plan in mind. Because she knows that the only thing people want is not to be interrupted. "Hi, how are you?" "I'm good, how are you?" "I'm good." We don't want to know how anyone really is. We would rather assume that everyone is fine than to know that everyone is fucked up. So when Frank asks April if she hates him or anything, she calmly denies it because she knows Frank only needs to hear what he wants to hear. He doesn't care if he knows, deep down, that it isn't true. As long as she smiles at the right time and socializes with the friends and reads to the kids, she's fine.
This film makes me think about how Americans don't want anyone interfering in their machine lives, and yet we wonder why we all feel so alone. In one moment, John and the Wheelers are real people to each other, talking about real problems. But this moment is the only moment of genuine people interacting genuinely in the movie. The rest of the time, people talk to each other because they're supposed to, because it makes them forget that they feel alone. And in each scene, April dies a little more and more until there is nothing left.
I think I love this movie because I relate to April so much. I knew that if I didn't get out, I would die. I think I died a little bit. But despite it all, I found a way to escape. I'm running. And somewhere, April is running too.
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