I once heard it said that American Beauty was a film that “changed everyone’s life.” It garnered multiple Academy Awards, including Best Picture, and was hailed by critics as “wickedly funny,” “near perfect,” and “an artistic masterpiece.” People loved this movie. But to all who say that American Beauty has anything more to offer than cardboard characters and a total lack of moral, intellectual, and entertainment value, you’re just plain wrong!

The premise is simple enough. Take the most dysfunctional and completely unbelievable characters you can come up with, have them b!itch at each other for two hours, and then fool the audience into thinking the film has deep artistic meaning. While the film makes the claim that there’s beauty in everything, I’m finding it hard to see any beauty in the film itself.
American Beauty is as much an insult to satire as Scary Movie is an insult to parody, and they share the same level of character depth. The characters in this film are so incredulously unbelievable and unlikeable that any emotional connection to them is impossible. Not only did I not care what happened to the main character, but I was actually relieved when he died, because he was such a miserable person to watch live. Most of the performances in the film are severely lacking, and nearly every character is a walking cliché whose actions are so utterly predictable that we know exactly how the movie will end 5 minutes after it starts.
Kevin Spacey, a grossly overrated actor to begin with, only excels because most of his roles only require him to play slightly varied versions of himself. Here, he delivers a second-rate performance as Lester Burnham, a middle-aged husband-father whose midlife crisis has him quit his job and start lifting weights in order to seduce his teenage daughter’s best friend (Mena Suvari), a promiscuous cheerleader whose shallow performance is further undermined by her gratuitous nudity. And, get this: instead of being repulsed by the older man’s infatuation with her, she actually falls for him, only to reveal later on what we’ve known all along. She’s a virgin.
Lester’s wife, Carolyn (the awful Annette Bening) is a material girl, burnt out on the stress of a failing real-estate career and a husband who doesn’t love her (and the film, obviously written by men, is actually vain enough to claim that he doesn’t mistreat her.). She and Lester blame each other for their misery, but as it turns out, she is just suffering from lack of sex, and an extramarital affair with her business competitor (Peter Gallagher) is all she needs to restore her happiness.
Caught in the middle is their teenage daughter, Jane (Thora Birch trying to be Christina Ricci), a self-loathing only child trapped between her own feelings of insecurity and her parents blatant hatred for each other. She is the only character in the film that I genuinely felt sorry for, if only for the monstrous therapy bills that would come as a result of her horrible home life and lack of stable parenting. I’m not sure it it’s a need for emotional closure, or (more likely) the writers just grabbing at straws, but rather than be creeped out by her stalker, Jane jumps at the chance to date Hannibal Lector with a video camera when she falls in love with Ricky Fitts (Wes Bently playing the film’s worst character). Ricky is the family’s creepy new next-door neighbor, who, between drug deals with Jane’s father, satisfies his voyeuristic tendencies by videotaping his neighbors through rain-soaked windows. His father, a homophobic ex-military colonel (Chris Carter), suppresses his own obvious latent homosexuality by rigorously “disciplining” the boy through physical assault and urine samples as opposed to the obvious method of taking away his video camera and sending him to Dr. Phil. And yet this is the character who the writers expect us to identify with: a socially inept loser whose apparent artistry is in his being able to find beauty in the simplest things. He’s an exception to everyone else, because he’s not “ordinary,” he’s “beautiful,” though, contrary to what the film may claim, none of these people are remotely close to ordinary. Ricky is the sociopath from your average episode of CSI or Law & Order, but in the world of American Beauty, he’s a hero. Apparently there’s supposed to be something poetic about this character and his speech about the visceral beauty of some trash blowing in the wind, but in comes across more as a lack of creativity and direction on part of the writers than anything else.
The film suffers even further from its blatant promotion of blanket stereotypes. According to this film, all suburban class Americans are fake, materialistic hypocrites living miserable lives, and military fathers are all closet homosexuals who ignore their wives and beat their children. Rather than satire suburban malaise, this film just poorly stereotypes it. The film’s biggest mistake, however, is that it asks the audience to believe a blatant lie: that these characters’ behaviors are normal. That poor parenting, child-abuse, stalking, adultery, embezzlement, pedophilia, drug abuse, extreme marital discord, and murder are the way of the grain in suburban America. It is one thing for a movie like Kill Bill to leave out any concept of a moral framework, but in a film like this, where characters are central, and they’re trying to make a point, it’s simply inexcusable. I’d be offended by it if I was a suburbanite.

So, not only does the film not work as a character drama, but it fails as a satire as well. John Dryden defined satire as “to tell men freely of their foulest faults, to laugh at their vain deeds and vainer thoughts.” Only, there’s really nothing to laugh about in this movie. More valid satire on suburban America can be found in your average Simpsons episode than anywhere here. Admittedly, there’s the occasional moment that is genuinely funny, such as when Lester catches his wife with her lover in the drive-thru of the fast food joint where he works. (“We’ve met before, but something tells me you’ll remember me this time.”) But the film spends more time dehumanizing its characters (and its audience) than it does providing any genuine satire. There is nothing funny about a father fantasizing about having sex with his daughter’s underage friend. There is nothing funny about a husband and wife who so openly hate and berate each other in front of their teenage daughter, or about a father who beats his delinquent son in order to discipline him. The film makes the claim that “there’s so much beauty in the world, it makes my heart burst,” but in reality, there’s so much bitter resentment in this film that there’s no room left for humor (or beauty), no matter how dark.

Granted, I have to give American Beauty some credit. At times, the film has good intentions, giving the nod to the fact that there’s more to life than material wealth (“This isn’t life! This is just things!”). And as poorly as the film is written, there is some artistry in the way it’s been shot, even if the movie is devoid of substance. The bad far outweighs the good, however, and any sense of depth and direction the writers may have had was lost somewhere along the way while they tried to remember the point they had been trying to make. And in the end, they ultimately decided that drowning something in rose petals was a good way to superficially beautify it. In the same way, they’ve superficially beautified this film. The further it moves along, the further it strays from anything it might have wanted to say in the beginning. It’s two hours of watching a horny, middle-aged man on the path of inherent self-discovery (but actual self-destruction), and for what? So we can have him reveal to us that life is better spent enjoying the beauty of its parts than the sum of its whole? We already knew that. If it’s relevant satire on middle-class America you’re looking for, then Fight Club and Office Space offer that, and were better films.
It’s okay. Regardless of what I say, you’re going to see this film anyway, and you know what, you’ll probably like it, because everyone did. As for myself, next time I’ll spare myself the pretentiousness of the whole experience and rent The Ice Storm instead.

.5 stars out of 5

NOTE: This has been an entry into the “You’re just plain wrong! writeoff, where we give the opposite of public opinion.


Recommended:
No

Viewing Format: VHS
Video Occasion: None of the Above
Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age