Richard Yates’ seminal 1961 novel on the failed dreams of post-war America, Revolutionary Road, was one of the most quietly influential works of the 20th century. It became a secret handshake amongst contemporary writers and its influence is still apparent from the likes of Nick Hornby to Sebastian Faulks.
Yet this new adaptation seems to have failed to capture what it is that made the original material such an influential work. One cannot imagine that Sam Mendes’ film will hold the same longevity in the canon of twenty-first century filmmaking that the novel has experienced in the literary world.
The film represents the fight of ideals and individuality against the white picket fenced suburbia of Middle America. It follows the lives of two young idealists, Frank and April Wheeler, who are fighting the hold of their middle-class suppression. It is basically an episode of Desperate Housewives as written by John Steinbeck. Something in this film however doesn’t quite work. In spite of some Oscar-beckoning performances – expect more tears from Kate Winslet – this is at times a turgid film with little offered us in way of emotional or comic release.
In spite of this however, the highlight of the film is the deft touch of Michael Shannon as John Givings, the son of Frank and April’s Estate agent. Shannon plays a mentally ill mathematician who, in his rejection of the stifling social norms of Middle America, offers us the only character who generally sees what it is that surrounds him. He is a funny yet deeply tragic character, branded as mad for his comprehension of the truth, he is the outsider that we, the viewer, cling on to.
Beyond Givings, there is little here to relate to. DiCaprio and Winslet’s Frank and April are characters simply too frustrating to be believed, they are ‘tortured’ characters from an overused mould. The performances might be commendable but they are working with dry raw materials. A heavy-handed script is the principal offender.
For Sam Mendes, besides the obvious discomfort of watching his wife having sex with another man, this seems an uncomfortable return to subject matter he has covered before, and with far greater success. There are echoes of the brilliant American Beauty in this film, and yet the expedition into suburban America that worked so well with Kevin Spacey seems to have failed here. Spacey’s Lester is a funny and dysfunctional anti-hero who splits modern American suburbia down the middle. The Wheelers follow this same pattern but with reduced success. Spacey’s suburban rebel is a character we love in spite of the fact that he is distinctly un-loveable, whereas the Wheelers should be loveable and simply are not.
The scripting and the characters are too slow: watching great swathes of this film is akin to falling into a giant vat of UHU glue with little hope of struggling out. Even the temptation of eating your way out, afforded by the sweetness of Michael Shannon’s performance, cannot quite counteract the sheer size of the vat. Excuse the extended metaphor.
The suburban rebellion theme has been explored countless times through many mediums, and frequently to much greater effect, revealing far more beguilling truths than can be evinced here. Revolutionary Road is not even this director’s best treatment of this subject matter, with the aforementioned American Beauty remaining the far superior picture. Perhaps it’s a theme close to Mendes’s heart, which would suggest Winslet may be wise not to settle down into cosy home-life just yet.
Despite its solid performances and brief flashes of brilliance it all comes across as a wholly unnecessary effort, for both filmmaker and audience.
