American Beauty (Film Review)

1999 DreamWorks Pictures
Directed by: Sam Mendes; Written by: Alan Ball
Starring: Kevin Spacey, Annette Bening, Thora Birch, Allison Janney, Peter Gallagher, Mena Suvari, Wes Bentley, and Chris Cooper
MPAA Rating: R; Running Time: 122 Minutes
The Nicsperiment Score: 5/10

Lester is sleepwalking through his life. He spends his mornings sitting slumped in the backseat, as his work-focused real estate agent wife drives him to his soul-crushing office job, and his daughter sits in the passenger seat, disconnected, ignoring him. Lester could take many different paths out of this dull abyss, but he chooses the most stereotypical and loathable mid-life crisis option available: he quits his job, starts smoking weed, working out in the garage, hits on his daughter's teenaged friend, buys a sports car, and starts working at a fast food restaurant. His wife, without support or love, falls into the arms of another real estate agent and starts spending time at the firing range, while his daughter falls into the arms of the mopey, drug-dealing cinephile next door, whose father is even worse off than Lester. Is there any hope for any of these miserable souls?
American Beauty blew my 18-year-old socks off in 1999, but now that I am the same age as Lester, its protagonist, I find it frustratingly and childishly shallow. The film needs to juggle two perspectives here: Lester's life IS miserable and he needs to make a positive change, but also, the change that Lester decides to make IS NOT positive. It drops the latter, as it posits Lester as a baby boomer hero who has broken free of the bounds of society by acting like he is still a teenager, even as he sexually pursues a teenager. At the same time, the film clearly views Lester's wife, who, while certainly too focused on work, is at least trying to act like a responsible adult with a teenaged child. Essentially, the film seems to want the audience to say, "Boohoo, poor Lester. Why should poor baby have to act like a grown up?" It's insipid and stupid, and the film's championing of the neighbor kid's shallow musings about the beauty of a plastic bag on the wind will mean little to anyone actually living a life of actual meaning and responsibility.
At the same time, the questions this film posits are IMPORTANT questions, and were certainly at the forefront of the 1999 audience's minds. American Beauty just does a miserable job of answering those questions, but it does at least answer them with peak cinematic style. Conrad Hall's cinematography is frankly some of the best in history, the way he lights a dull suburb nearly divine. Thomas Newman's melodically percussive soundtrack is a jewel in his already glorious crown of work. The acting by all is great. From a production standpoint, American Beauty is one of the greatest films ever made. From a storytelling standpoint, it is found severely wanting.