Where is the love ...

Rating: 9/10 (18 February 2009)

Based on the novel by Richard Yates, "Revolutionary Road" is a bleak dissection of a marriage, circa 1955. It is also one of the best movies of the year, a tour-de-force for all concerned. Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio are April and Frank Wheeler who meet cute, marry and then regret it. They are an idealistic young couple with big ideas, (she aspires to be an actress), who settle for suburbia, the good life and a kind of genteel respectability. They dream of relocating to Paris but it's a pipe-dream from the start and it's April's idea. It is April who seems to be the volatile one, the unhappy one, though it is Frank who plays away. And, of course, they row; the row spectacularly to the point where blood could be drawn.
By now you may have guessed that Frank and April could be the younger versions of Albee's George and Martha, or going back further still, of Strinberg's Edgar and Alice, the only difference being that that they are still young enough to be still in love or, at least, in a form of love, romantic and unrealistic where every wound they inflict on each other is somehow made better by sex. How typical are April and Frank? I mean, how typical are they of their time and place? No-one seems to be happy; not their friends or neighbours, not the guys Frank works with in their dull, successful jobs in this decade of post-war prosperity. "Revolutionary Road" is, then, as much a critique of 1950's America, stunningly recreated in Kristi Zea's production design and Albert Wolsky's costumes, as it is a study of a disintegrating relationship.
Doubts, too, as to the suitability of DiCaprio and Winslet to handle such heavy-duty material are dispelled almost immediately. This is acting of the very highest order. Winslet's performance has already been showered with praise and prizes, (between this and "The Reader", this has definitely been her year), all thoroughly deserved. She must now rank among the finest actresses of her generation and among the best actresses currently working in international cinema. However, to my mind, Leonardo DiCaprio is even better and his failure to be nominated for the Oscar either speaks volumes as to the superiority of those who have been nominated, (and frankly, I think it is a better performance than Mickey Rourke's in "The Wrestler" and it looks like Rourke who will take home the prize), or the complete lack of insight on the part of the Academy who still look on DiCaprio as the boy pretender. He may have started his career as a young Turk, dipped a little in the middle with some dubious career choices, but now seems to have rediscovered his mettle. He just seems to get better with every movie and this is a career-best performance.
The supporting cast, without exception, are all terrific. Invidious, then, to single anyone out but mention must be made of Kathy Bates' real-estate agent, part pre-war dyed-in-the-wool, part post-war forward thinker. For too long Bates has been mired in caricature 'fat' parts so it is nice to see her finally get a role that requires some internal thought. Even better is Michael Shannon as her 'insane' son, let out for the odd afternoon from the institution where he has been receiving electric shock treatment. Like Randall P McMurphy his only crime seems to be that he disagrees with the status quo, (his mother describes him as 'an intellectual'), although his behavior, when invited around for dinner, does seem to contravene the rules of polite society when he attacks his hosts, (and is attacked in return). Shannon is an actor I am not familiar with but on the strength of this performance he is someone I shall be looking out for in the future.
If this, for the most part, extraordinary film does have a fault it lies not in the execution, which is superb, but in the content. No character endears themselves to us and at the heart of the film there is a coldness. What is conspicuously absent is any real feeling, other than a feeling of negativity and disdain. These are not people we would choose as friends or neigbours; to know them certainly isn't to love them and while their fate may be terrible, you tend to think that anything that happens to them is their own sorry fault.