American Beauty (1999)

I watched Sam Mendes's Oscar-winning film American Beauty for the first time, and rather than feeling the wait was worth it, I wish I had waited indefinitely. Of this self-indulgent morass of phony insight and at-best pedantic attempts at castigating the suburbs, there is little to admire. 

There is not really a plot, which is not a criticism. Countless exceptional films have no plots but shine because of their outstanding characters and story. American Beauty is not one of those films. 

The film revolves around bored man-child Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey) and his wife, phony real estate dealer Carolyn (Annette Bening). These two selfish, upper-middle class people have a large house in a nice neighborhood complete with white picket fences and a grumpy teenage daughter, Janie (Thora Birch). Their neighbors consist of a gay couple and a new family whose peeping-tom son and Nazi, homophobic-but-secretly-gay father fuel much of the tension. Lester becomes infatuated with Janie's friend Angela, who wants to be a model and exaggerates her sexual prowess. Angela and Lester have this strange flirtation going on for most of the movie, which comes to represent Lester's frustration with his life and his determination to quit living a fake life. 

What does his rebellion entail? Why, buying pot from the neighbor's son, having sex fantasies about his daughter's friend, and working out to look hot for the girl. He quits his job in a scene that was, I believe, intended to be dark but was actually comical. Kevin Spacey is a brilliant actor, but not even his immaculate talent could save this mess of a movie. Lester is completely unsympathetic, unlikable, and uninteresting. There is pretty much no reason to feel invested in his character. None. He comes pretty close to having sex with his daughter's friend, intentionally starts working at a fast food restaurant, complains nonstop, has no relationship with his daughter, and becomes a pothead. Granted, this kind of depravity has the potential to be interesting, but in the hands of Sam Mendes and Alan Ball, this degeneration feels phony. I found nothing realistic about Lester. There was nothing sympathetic about his decline, either. His decision to start acting like a dumbass does not at all feel like a rejection of false and greedy values; it feels like an emotional regression caused purely by that character's own idiocy, not the suburbs. 

Yet, his decline is portrayed as some sort of tragic product of the lowly, decrepit suburbs. In fact, the whole point of this movie is that the suburbs are evil and will destroy everything human about you and eventually kill you. The writer (Alan Ball) tried way, way, way too hard to make his dialogue "edgy" and his characters' problems "real," but what you really end up watching is a goofy film that is completely oblivious to its own goofiness. In trying to be so serious, Mendes and Ball instead created a film that feels like a parody of the anti-suburb film. 

The one thing to admire is the acting, and with such a stellar cast there is little question why. Despite being given little to work with, Annette Bening gives a strong performance as Carolyn; in fact, hers was the one character I wanted to know more about. She's selfish and phony - to say nothing of the fact that she's having an affair - but there seemed to be a lot of pain there. Annette Bening is a goddess among actresses, and I think the only reason why Carolyn seems to have any kind of internal life is because of Bening's acting ability. In the hands of a lesser actress, this character would have been even more unlikable because there is so little to work with. 

Chris Cooper has a prominent supporting role, but his character's motives and actions are so blatantly obvious and predictable from the moment he appears on screen that it feels too generous to call the conclusion anti-climactic. His character seemed to serve no other purpose than to allow Mendes and Ball to pat themselves on the backs for their (allegedly) powerful and provocative gender politics. However, much like Carolyn, Cooper's character - whose name we don't even learn - has no internal life and feels more like a caricature. He's just...there...to fulfill yet another check on this goofy list of imperatively included items in an already bloated film. 

The one character I had anything resembling sympathy for was the daughter, Janie, played by Thora Birch. She actually felt like a person (for the most part), and I did feel sorry for the kid. Her parents were the most shallow people alive. Her best friend was a mean girl and only used her to feel better about herself, as the neighbor-boyfriend (Wes Bently) points out. She was also the only character who seemed to have any emotional depth; her motivations were understandable, as were her reactions. 

American Beauty tries to be The Ice Storm (1997), Blue Velvet (1986), and Sunset Boulevard (1950) all at once, but this film doesn't even deserve to be in the same video store as these far, far superior films. It's a stupid movie, plain and simple, and perhaps the most trite, self-indulgent nonsense I have seen in a long time. It's going to take a while for me to get this awful taste out of my mouth. 

Grade: D

13 Reasons Why (2017)

I just finished watching Netflix's series 13 Reasons Why, and in a break with tradition I will review a television series. 

For those unfamiliar with the story, 13 Reasons Why, based on the YA novel by Jay Asher (2007), is the story of high school student Hannah Baker who has committed suicide. To explain her reasons for ending her life, Hannah has left behind 13 tapes describing events that led to her decision. Each tape is directed at one person who, from Hannah's perspective, pushed her toward ending her own life. Each of these people received a box containing the tapes, and these tapes were delivered strategically, all according to Hannah's design. 

I had heard of the series a few weeks ago after seeing an article entitled "13 Reasons Why Not," which claimed the series was dangerous and would lead to more teens committing suicide due to the series' (alleged) romanticization of the act. Now, I have never been one to believe that a work of art can influence behavior like that automatically. Whether it's people arguing violent movies lead to mass shootings or people arguing a show about teen suicide leads to more teen suicide is irrelevant. To me, one would not commit murder or suicide or anything else if one were not already emotionally disturbed in the first place. When I saw a friend had posted the article warning people not to watch the series and arguing Netflix had been irresponsible, I was intrigued. I finally began watching it Monday night after work and completed the series today. 

I cannot recall the last time a work of art--for this series is art--affected me emotionally to the extent 13 Reasons Why has. When I finished the final episode, I sat, frozen, in the same position for about ten minutes. I was unable to move. I just sat there, absorbing what I had just watched. 

First, I wholeheartedly denounce this idea that the show is promoting or romanticizing suicide. This claim that the show will make teens die is about as stupid and reactionary as the idea that watching a Quentin Tarantino movie will turn you into a psychotic killer. It's offensive to people with functioning minds, and it's essentially another form of censorship. For censoring anything "unpleasant" that features children is the real thing these people are after. I can't think of a more profound and aggressively ignorant interpretation of art. 

Make no mistake: 13 Reasons Why is raw. It's raw and ferocious and completely unapologetic and unflinching in its authenticity. I myself was bullied in high school, and I cannot begin to describe how severely I was ostracized and rejected in college--and even more so in graduate school. Watching this show made me revisit the diaries I kept in high school and college, and re-reading them made me weep. I wept for the pain hidden behind happy words in my high school diary. I wept for the utter darkness in my college diaries. I wept for the teenage girl who was in so much pain that she too understood Hannah Baker's decision. As hokey as it sounds, I wanted to go back in time and embrace my younger self. And I can tell you that this series nailed the emotions, duress, and self-loathing that haunt so many young people during their most formative and often most traumatizing years. 

The main character of the show is actually not Hannah, but a nerdy boy who had a crush on her: Clay Jenkins. The show alternates between the present and flashbacks, each episode focusing on one tape. We hear Hannah's voice over as Clay listens to the tapes, and we learn Hannah's story right alongside him. I thought the two lead actors, Dylan Minnette (Clay) and Katherine Langford (Hannah) were outstanding, but the supporting cast was just as great. 

The stories we learn about each teen were painful to watch, particularly one girl whose sexual assault becomes a focal point of the show. I was impressed with the show's subversion of the teen genre by making the characters three-dimensional. Time after time, we the audience are told to think one thing about the characters, only to have to question our rush to judgment when we learn what issues the kids each have. For the sake of avoiding spoilers, I won't elaborate, but suffice it to say that I felt unable to judge any of the characters (well, with one glaring exception). 

This show also owes a debt to David Lynch for its Twin Peaks-esque feel. Although the signature Lynchian quirkiness is nowhere to be found, the focus on the death of a young girl and the ways it rocks this nameless American small town are straight out of Lynch, as is 13 Reasons Why's exploration of the darkness beneath small town America's smiling facade. 

The lighting is brilliant: the flashbacks have a softer, glowing look, while the present scenes are shot in extremely harsh lighting--a metaphor, undoubtedly, for facing reality. 

13 Reasons Why also has a deeply philosophical look at physicality. What does it mean to love someone? How does love survive if the person, or more specifically the body of that person, does not? As the series progresses, there are so many scenes in which Clay, on his journey to understand how his secret love came to end her own life, travels to the places Hannah describes, and we see their bodies, often in clashing lighting, come so close to touching that the impossibility of it reinforces the depth of the tragedy. Clay will be observing the event Hannah describes and will be near to her--but he's only near to her in his imagination. His quest is fascinating in that he's trying to make right what he perceives to be his contribution to Hannah's death, but we as the audience know it's far more complicated than Clay allows. 

And it is this complexity that makes 13 Reasons Why such an important and profound work of art. I have never seen a show or movie that explored suicide with such rawness. The series is unflinching in its depiction of how suicide affects everyone, particularly Hannah's family. Yet, the show is also emphatic that your own actions can have (often) unintended consequences. At its heart, 13 Reasons Why is really about honesty and personal responsibility. Some have complained that the show puts the burden of suicide on others, but I feel that misses the point. The way the kids at the high school treated Hannah is disgusting and is something that happens all the time, every day. Yet, it's also clear that Hannah had no school activities, no clubs, no siblings, and no real friends. I think it's also important to note that we only get Hannah's story from her perspective. There are hints that she may have distorted some of the stories, one example being that she claims one boy threw away a note she wrote him, yet the boy actually saved the note and keeps it in his wallet. I actually appreciated the way the series dropped some hints that Hannah may have had some mental health issues, but kept the focus on how Hannah herself felt. I think people decrying the series have entirely missed that point: this show is about taking a suicidal girl's thoughts seriously because no one else did. The message, which I thought was clear as crystal, was that no one should wait until the child is dead to listen; listening is an active process and one that needs to become a mainstay both in education and in friendship. 

I also think Netflix has gone out of its way to handle this material delicately. The series has a TV-MA rating, which suggests no one under 17 should watch the series. The first episode also has an announcement appearing at the beginning that states the show will feature violent and disturbing material, and some subsequent episodes have similar warnings. There is also a website, 13reasonswhy.info, created specifically for viewers who are triggered by the images or story and need help. Honestly, I'm not sure what else people expect--other than outright censorship. 

There is so much I want to say about this series, but that would be impossible without spoiling the myriad revelations that become so central to the viewing experience. I'll end by saying that, although the material is disturbing, watching this show is imperative. I don't think every teen should watch it, at least not without an adult whom they trust. However, I think material like this can be a way to have serious conversations about suicide, death, and sexual violence that are so desperately needed. If you have a teen, especially a daughter, then I recommend watching it with her. If you don't, watch it for yourself; you may find, as I did, a sense of catharsis in seeing your own pain and experience put on screen with such unapologetic realism. 

Grade: A+