American Beauty: A Modern Classic

Rating: 10/10 (16 January 2006)

In many ways, American Beauty claims an obvious spot on the short list of top films because of its litany of recognition, including five academy awards (one Annette Bening overlook shy of the prestigious Silence of the Lambs best picture/director/actor/actress sweep), and overwhelming critical support. However, simple recognition from the film noir crowd does not equate to movie magic (see Donnie Darko, Fargo, or anything by Stanley Kubric). The Academy Awards are also a poor barometer for a film's quality (see Titanic, Shakespeare in Love, or anything by Stanley Kubric). And don't get me started on the Golden Globes. Instead, American Beauty walks the walk.
While movies like The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and Star Wars touch a nerve because they elicit the inner child in us all, low budget, realistic movies without the aid of CGI are more difficult to endear to the common man. As screenwriters like to call it, there must a "suspended belief" that the story being told is both relevant and important. These attributes may be obtained in a variety of ways through comedy, drama, and even horror. However, a true classic does not force feed you the ingredients of a well made picture, but slowly mixes them into the batter little by little. This subtly is the crux of American Beauty's genius.
The movie's tag line is "Look closer." Anybody who has seen the movie more than once recognizes the value of such a statement. Like the pedals on a rose, the movie's iconic image and foundation for the movie title, the viewer must strip down the flower one layer at a time to get a closer, more relevant look. Screenwriter Alan Ball claims that his motivation for the story was created through his daily life experiences. As viewers, we're convinced he plagiarized from ours.
There is no fabricated demagogue who more than slightly resembles your crazy uncle. Nor is there a conniving thief who would be a millionaire if it weren't for his bone-headed partner. Instead we have an underachieving father who is tip-toeing the ledge of sanity and eternal repression from an overbearing society. Sound familiar? We also have a mother who masks her insecurity with a perfect house, a perfect fence, and a perfect smile. We have a daughter who dreams of breast implants, exchanges her pride for friendship with the conceited but popular girl, and finds love in her outcast neighbor. We have a homophobic ex-marine who demands structure from his son but refuses to acknowledge who he really is. We have the gay neighbors that want nothing more than to be the neighbors, period. Yes, they are stereotypes, but aren't we all? Within each character, we find the Id of the everyday person. What can be more relevant than that? Within the hook of a relevant subject matter, lies an important message. These are not static characters that director Alan Mendes and legendary cinematographer Conrad Hall so expertly introduce. These characters want to be more than who they see in the mirror; however, they volley their intentions and desires from day to day, and sometimes hour to hour. It is through the eyes of Kevin Spacey's character, Lester Burnham, that we see a man who reached the breaking point. His inciting incident is a guilty pleasure that no honest man would care to admit: he fantasizes over his daughter's High School friend. Boom. Motivation to get in shape. It is through this Rudy-esquire bildunsroman that we witness a nobody become a man.
Through Lester's all-bets-are-off attitude, we experience a man stripped to his foundation. He says what he wants to say and does what he wants to do. He hates his job. Solution? Blackmail the boss and get a year's worth of salary, plus benefits. He hates his body. Solution? Smoke pot while he "wails on (his) pecs." The viewer is drawn to Lester because he does what we all can't: become who he wants to be. Like in many movies, we live vicariously through the lead character. But Lester is no superman. His actions, although risky and bold, do not require superpowers or extravagant amounts of money. They require a pulse.
Blockbusters like X-Men, Terminator, and Aliens are fine movies. They grab our attention with jaw-dropping special effects, and hold us tight with suspenseful action sequences. But they are not classics. We are not changed, just amused. Likewise, movies like Apocalypse Now, The Wizard of Oz, and Pulp Fiction are well shot, entertaining flicks. But they do not move us, unless you count reaching forward to get more popcorn. It's Rick's goodbye in Casablanca, Michael Corleone's hand being kissed as the new Don in The Godfather, and the way Dr. Hannibal Lector's tongue rattles like a snake in The Silence of the Lambs that change our lives. They strike a chord and let it resonate through our soul. American Beauty sends shock waves.
In a society that justifies postponing a diet for two months by claiming it will be a New Years resolution, it's uncomfortable to see an assertive nobody flip one's life around so suddenly. However, it's equally rewarding and encouraging. Lester Burnham is the underdog who made it to the Final Four. He's the obese woman who finally cracked 200 pounds. He's the recovering drug addict who fought his way to a college degree. And he's the fruition of the desires we fear to embark upon. If you look closer, he's you and me.