American Analgesic.

Rating: Null/10 (18 September 1999)

It's a sorry state of affairs when a movie masterminded by the creator of "Cybill" is treated as the second coming, but for once I can understand the hoopla. American Beauty is a very seductive film -- so seductive that it's easy to overlook the fact that it amounts to roughly bubkes. It's ironic that the tagline is "Look closer," because this movie ONLY holds up when left unexamined -- under scrutiny, it crumbles like Annette Bening's empowered-woman facade.
What an anomaly! Scene-by-scene American Beauty is brilliant; overall, it's shoddily conceived, full of holes, and more than a little sophistic. At the end -- don't worry, I won't spoil anything worth spoiling -- Kevin Spacey's character says ( in voiceover, yech ) something about how we must enjoy the little things in life, and that's basically the whole philosophy here; true child-of-the-60's stuff. Just to take a small example of the film's many missteps, Spacey -- who has undergone a Kubrickian metamorphosis from downsized sadsack to teenager reborn -- makes a break with his materialistic, status-seeking past by... Buying a car? Drinking beer? EXERCISING? Excuse me, but isn't that what yuppies do? And there's a mistake within a mistake here, because no one who has suddenly become a fitness nut would also become a drunkard at the same time, even if he is trying to show his wife how liberated he is.
As for the director, Sam Mendes, let's just say that the guy definitely knows his way around a camera but fudges a few things, most notably the substory of Spacey's crush on his daughter's best friend. Middle-aged men who want to prong underaged girls generally do not fantasize about them shooting rose petals from their chests, not even if those middle-aged men are professional poets, which Lester -- who writes ad copy -- is most assuredly not. Subliminal cuts of the girl in various pornographic poses would have been more honest, but then again, this movie is about as edgy as a donut, despite what the critics will tell you, and always opts for prettiness over provocation.
Now for the good news: American Beauty is a rare case of a film where the actors are more important than anyone behind the camera, and all the actors -- except Annette Bening, who appears to have been coached by a different director than everyone else, perhaps Friz Freleng -- rise to the occasion admirably. Especially Kevin Spacey. He has been impressive before, of course, but here he's simply... Well, "Voila un homme," to quote Napoleon. He's the essence of humanity, as hyperbolic as that sounds. Thank god for this man who doesn't indulge in Oscar moments, never cries, never speechifies, just radiates intelligence and common sense and joy in his own talent. His performance and character make the movie great, even though it's not a great movie, and he has now officially paid Pacino back for his reported rudeness on the set of Glengarry Glen Ross by becoming a much better actor. Headhunters of the press, DO NOT ask this man if he's gay again -- he needs to be free to play whoever he wants. Julia Roberts already has her tart-tongued sidekick, okay? Leave the guy alone.
The high school scenes in American Beauty were shot at my alma mater, by the way. I don't know why I feel compelled to mention this but I do. I almost fainted dead away at the sight of those Spartanettes. Ah, the memories...