White Angst: Redux

Revolutionary Road-Kate Winslet, Leonardo DiCaprio

Director- Sam Mendes





SEE?




On the upside, a Leonardo DiCaprio film without any dismemberment. On the downside, 1950's white suburban angst. We've all felt that before. Let's just peruse the 1950s, shall we? Official end of World War II. Official beginning of McCarthyism. Josef Stalin dies. The polio vaccine is created. Segregation is ruled illegal in the United States. Rosa Parks stays seated on a bus. The space race begins. Fidel Castro becomes dictator of Cuba. I'm no historian. I actually had to look this stuff up. I had a sneaking suspicion that a lot of really important things happened in the 1950s. A lot of events occurred which do not seem to shape the lives of our characters in fair suburban Connecticut. I guess that's why people move there. But back to the story-young promising couple moves to Connecticut to raise a family. Frank (Leonardo DiCaprio) muddles dissatisfied through his life as a man supporting his family. Frank's wife, April (Kate Winslet), struggles to be a suburban actress-housewife. (That combination never goes well together. Trust me.) One day, April hits upon a great idea to save them from their banal life and resuscitate their failing marriage. "Why, we'll simply move to France, Rhett, I mean, Frank!" Angst be gone. And then....




Let me just stop you there. Revolutionary Road was written by Richard Yates in 1961. Never read it. However, I love stories of unrealized potential. They make me feel comfortable where I am in this place I call a career. As a novel, I might love to sit with this story over a cup of tea and bourbon. (What?!) As a viewer in 2008, I can't relate. Here, however, is where I develop an appreciation for the film. Sam Mendes reminds me of why I am grateful to live when and where I live. Somehow this movie makes me wary of all the threats to the freedoms we have gained here in the good ol' U.S. (And, no, I'm not talking about terrorists.) Oh, and also, I never want to get married. Ever. Sadly for the film, the only people I know who might want to watch a marriage fall apart for two hours are nosy neighbors in a cramped apartment where analog TV is the only other option. I won't tell you not to see it. (Nobody listens to me anyway.) It is a fine, controlled piece of film making. It has extraordinary performances. (Michael Shannon will wake you from your "Oscar-worthy" performance slumber.) But be warned. Don't bring your modern day sensibilities to this film. You'll only wonder what planet those people on the screen hail from.






EAT?




Ahhh, to go back again to the good ol' days when the men were men and the women drank at ten in the morning. It's a miracle anyone survived the fifties. And what were these people eating? Was that a pineapple-ham hors d'oeuvre? Seriously?! If you crave a Hawaiian luau on a toothpick, travel to http://www.retro-housewife.com/. There you can find titillating tips for the "retro" housewife of today as well as recipes that predate fear of carbs. Careful what you wish for.





SHOP.





Hide your younguns'. This is for real adults only. And liberal ones at that. Condoms. You betcha. You will not find me in the bathroom with some strange rubber devise trying to terminate my own pregnancy (I'm really talking about April here. Nobody in their right mind would let me even begin to procreate.) What the hell! Soooo not liking the fifties mentality. According to Wikipedia, the earliest known form of birth control dates around ancient Egyptian times. Cleopatra was a busy little bee after all. The condom was invented in the 17th century. It seems far easier to use than the other strange rubber thingie that April keeps in her bathroom for more unpleasant occasions. (Dear Lord, thank you for giving me life in 1970.) When I go to buy condoms...who am I kidding? Happily, they are easier to procure than other forms of contraception or so I'm told. For other birth control options visit http://www.webmd.com/sex/birth-control. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes "Enough already. Go take a cold shower or something."

A Dictionary. Open not closed.

Quantum of Solace-Daniel Craig, Judi Dench


SEE.


What the hell is a "quantum"? Three guys are credited with penning this screenplay, and none of them could come up with a catchier title?! No. I did not read the book. Back in my day, you went to the movie and that sufficed. If the movie was extraordinary you might, might, pick up the book. I don't care how good the Bond movies are, you cannot convince me that in order to understand a movie title I should first read cover to cover one of these books in the hopes that I might stumble across the sentence which begot said title. The British. Readers. Me. I'm an American. I like to watch. When I go to see a Bond movie, I do not carry a pocket dictionary and an Itty Bitty Book Light. Here's why. Good Guy=Bond. Bad Guy= Guy with foreign, excuse me, non-American accent. Good Guy kills Bad Guy. During his down time, Good Guy has sex with naive girl or with cunning bad girl. Either way, after the lovin', the girl must die. (Note to self: sex with Bond =sure death.) Anyway, sprinkle in gritty fight scenes, over the top stunts and plane/boat/automobile chases as needed. Done. No dictionary required.

That was then. Now there's actually a story (or sub-story, I'm not really sure here) which I have to follow. I own "Casino Royale," but, no, I don't remember all the intricate details. Jeez. I have to do homework before going to see this movie. I have to pay attention to whom he is killing and why. Frankly, I'm not sure even the writers know that part. (Sorry, Mr. Haggis, but you need to slow down a minute.) Back to the title. What about "Vesper's Vengeance" or "To Kill and Kill Again"? Less subtlety, please. Hello! We Americans still watch movies even if the world is trying to do everything else without us. We like things we can understand. It's what makes us Americans.

Look. I'll see every Bond movie they churn out even if I have to bring a dictionary, a thesaurus and a Bible. Still, three things and three things alone hooked me in this movie. 1) Daniel Craig-Anytime, anywhere. 2) Jeffrey Wright- Could somebody please give this actor his due? And 3) Olga Kurylenko-There's a very short list of kick ass women with whom Bond does not have his way. That's right. She doesn't die.


EAT.


Apparently killing oodles of people serves as a natural appetite suppressant. Can I just point out that alcohol is all you ever see James Bond ingest in this movie. Well, amen, brother. If I had your job, I'd probably ride the martini train all night as well. In celebration of the only secret agent who can survive for days without water and food but simply must have his martini "shaken not stirred" visit www.swankmartini.com . There you will find a history of the James Bond martini (from the freakin' book series, you purists) as well as recipes and "MI-6" worthy martini shakers. Drink up. I'm sure another Bond movie is just around the corner. They'll probably call it "Allotment of Assuagement." Yeah. Look it up. I dare you.

One aside. The Bad Guy, Dominic Greene (Mathieu Almaric), arrives at a "bad guy" meeting in the Bolivian desert eating a shiny, crisp apple. I know, I know. This represents the bountiful harvest that our baddie is wresting away from the Bolivian people by plundering their water supply but would you take a fruit eating bad guy seriously? C'mon.




SHOP.


Three words. Tide. To. Go. (Well, put them together.) For the killer on the go. When you absorb as much blood in your tuxedo shirt as Bond does you'll need a cleaning solution of massive proportions. Frankly, you don't have time to drop off at the nearest dry cleaners. And what are you going to tell them anyway? "I cut myself falling through a glass ceiling with a double agent whom I ultimately killed." Please. What you need are a couple of hundred Tide-To-Go pens to take those stains out until you have time to purchase your next $3,000 suit. Don't leave M's office without 'em. Shop http://www.tide.com/ or go to your nearest grocery store. Please try not to accidentally drop somebody over the side of a building on your way.

Flappers, freaks and fake kids.

"CHANGELING"-Angelina Jolie, John Malkovich Director: Clint Eastwood


SEE.


So, if it walks like a duck; talks like a duck; looks like a duck; and the L.A.P.D. tells you it's a duck, well, it's probably a viper. Look, no organization is all bad. In Hollywood, however, the L.A.P.D. is the premiere villain. Even if there's one good cop in the force, the barrel is portrayed as rotten. When you see "Changeling" and note with incredulity the sheer balls of a police department that would return the wrong child to a distraught mother and then accuse her of being a bad mother because she won't accept the child as her own, you may side with Hollywood. 1928. It doesn't seem that long ago, does it? Blacks got lynched; men beat women to keep them in line; and the police lied. (Thank goodness times have changed.)



Apparently, the police didn't just lie. Lying is for criminals. The police told elaborate fairytales. Something like, "Hey, Sweetheart, this kid we shipped in from Illinois is your kid even if a)his dental records are different; b) his teacher has never seen him before; c) he's shorter than your kid was and d)he's circumcised (unlike your kid.) And lady, if you don't swallow that line of bull--, well, we'll lock you up in the "psychopathic ward." (In today's Los Angeles this is now known as the plastic surgeon's office.) Playing the aforementioned distraught mother, Christine Collins, is Angelina Jolie. Jolie does a good job of portraying a relative anomaly of the era-a single mother holding down a respectable job and raising a decent kid. When the time comes to act frail (act frail not look like a strong wind could knock her over), I failed to buy her confusion and capitulation. Sorry. This is Angelina "Freakin" Jolie. "Hackers." "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider." "Mr. and Mrs. Smith." "Wanted." She doesn't get confused. She kicks ass. Apparently the only women who kicked ass in 1928 were hookers so I'm stuck with Angelina trying to appear frail and confused and at the mercy of men which we all know she is not even if her character was. Hard sell. Still, an interesting movie.


EAT.


Couldn't tell ya. Didn't seem like much was being eaten by the cast in this movie. Oh, alright. Since 1928, the famous Canter's Fairfax has been serving delighful deli food. I figure anything that's been around Los Angeles since the story in this movie took place must be worth checking out.


SHOP.


In the 1920s. men dressed like men not hobos in need of belts. Hats and coats. I mean, it's southern California. They must have had heatstroke 11 months out of 12. In any case, they looked good. The women were pretty snazzy too. Managers at the telephone company wore roller skates while they worked. Could you imagine? I mean it's not like you're serving burgers and shakes at the drive-in. You're operating a phone system for cryin' out loud. In a 1920's dress and skates! Forgive me. I digress.


Shop http://www.davenportandco.com/ or http://www.bobbydene.com/ for 1920's (actual 1920's) clothes for men and women. Please. You won't wear this stuff unless you're going to a costume party or a funeral but, if Angelina and her tattoos can pull it off...