American Beauty and the Demons of Suburbia.

[There will be spoilers. Although, I am of the opinion that only a bad film can be ruined by spoilers. A good film can be watched over and over, and exert the same, if not more, power over you.]

Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey) is stuck. He is stuck in the self-perpetuated ennui that comes with compromise. He has sacrificed that which is good for that which is easy, and is reaping those consequences at the beginning of American Beauty. His compromise, though it is present in even his moral decisions stems from one choice he made many years ago: to move to the suburbs. This move can be compared to a retreat, which in war is only useful when accompanied by a fight in the near future. Otherwise, it is not much different from giving up. Unfortunately the suburbs swallows us up, proclaiming from the hilltops its glories while at the same time stripping us of our humanity so that, like an addict, we lack the willpower to continue the uphill battle. Lester Burnham, through a collusion of chance and gall, picks up his weapons and starts to fight. In doing so, he discovers the titular beauty that seems to be missing from this world, and finishes the film with a moment of pure joy.

Lester delivers one of the greatest opening monologues on film as he explains, in an extremely self-deprecating fashion, the meaninglessness of his life. He informs us that he will die, but that this matters little, as he feels dead already. Then he tells us that he has lost something, something very core to the human experience, something that breathes vitality into everything we do. Although he may not know what this is, I would argue that this missing piece is Identity. He has nothing to represent himself but his clothes and his house and his job and his car. He is disoriented because he doesn’t even know who he is. This is a direct result of his compromise. The first thing you give up when you move to the suburbs to begin a “normal” life if your passions and dreams. These are the things that fill your soul to the brim, that give you hope, that help you appreciate the beauty around you. In a non-constricting way, these may even define you. I am not me because of what I do; I am me because of what I yearn for with every ounce of my soul. Lester Burnham gave up his dreams so that he could fit into a cookie-cutter world designed to put us all in little boxes and have us come out all the same.

The catalyst in Lester’s renewed vigor is a boy named Ricky Fitts (Wes Bentley), who not only gives Lester some pot, but introduces him to a certain way of approaching the world. When Ricky and Lester are smoking a joint outside of a catering venue, and Ricky is threatened with being fired, he quits. He lives by a certain code: that you should never abide by the rules that others set for you. His dreams are still fresh in his mind, and one day he might accomplish them. He is willing to even cut himself off from his family in order to be himself, and not subscribe to the societal concept of the norm. In one scene with his girlfriend and Lester’s daughter, Jane (Thora Birch), they admit their eccentricities and decide to move away. Jane’s best friend Angela Hayes (Mena Suvari), petrified of ever being ordinary, still rejects them, because she, too, has been sucked into the vacuum of suburbia. Ricky Fitts, almost a Messianic figure in this way, comes to heal their collective blindness, to let them out of the shackles that they put on their feet, never realizing it was for eternity. He is Hercules and they are Prometheus, being disemboweled by their insecurities and mediocrities. He allows them to appreciate what is actually good in this world. He shows them it is not the cubicle or the opinions of friends, that it is only what it is your heart, in your gut, even in your soul.

Lester also develops an infatuation with Angela, after seeing her perform a cheerleading routine. Nubile, although still childlike, we can almost see through her lavish sex stories told to give herself importance, to fit into the compromise. She also forces a change in Lester, as he begins to work out in order to achieve a sort of sexual gratification that he hasn’t seen in years. She gives him something to fight for. When they finally come together, we the audience can barely watch. We never wanted them to actually have sex, just talk about it. But it leads to the most sublime moment in the entire film. Angela comes out with her virginity, and Lester wakes up and realizes that she is more than just physically attractive. She possesses a beauty that often passes by, leaving us in its dust. He recognizes her innocence, her naïveté, and sees her potential. He may be stuck in the cycle of ennui, but she can still get out, as Ricky has and Jane will. There is hope, and this changes everything.

When he recognizes her beauty, he looks around and sees it everywhere. It’s like one of those magic eye stereograms, once you see the image, you can’t stop seeing it. He used to see through a glass darkly, now his vision is pure, he can see through a lens that allows no flaw. And he realizes that his life was not without joy. He has had this joy that permeates his soul now for as long as he can remember. He was just unable to see it through the compromise. He broke free and saw the love for his daughter and his wife, however bitchy they both are. And this understanding, this great realization served as his psychopomp. He was carried to the underworld bathed in the perfect happiness he had discovered therein. He had found his identity.

I leave with this poem from Langston Hughes:

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow