A Revolutionary Sleep Aid

When I was a baby my parents would make me sleep in a closet because I kept them awake with my unnecessary crying. I never needed anything. I just cried because I wanted to be held. Now it may seem reasonable for me to feel neglect upon hearing this delightful anecdote, but really, I don't blame them. They need their sleep too. I probably would have done the same thing with my child. This all to say that I have always had trouble sleeping. Staying asleep used to be the challenge, but recently it seems to be the falling asleep that proves the most difficult. Needless to note, I am posting a blog due to this ongoing nocturnal routine, and because every other activity available to me at the moment is unappealing.

There is not much I'd like to say. I only have a couple movies I'd like to review, please, if it's alright with you. You are the only reason I write this of course. Your audienceship is greatly valued, my two or three readers. For I do not write for the only purpose of myself, to see what I've written on the internet, but to know the possibility of someone reading what I've written. That is all I ever want. I wish I could write about books instead of movies. I like movies, but not nearly as much as I like books. Throughout this winter break I've already read almost ten books, but I cannot talk about them on here because you do not care about them. Not to say that you aren't a reader or your ignorance will keep you from knowing what I'm talking about. But that you are more likely to go see and engage in discussion about a film rather than buy a book I write about and explore its themes with me. This makes me sad because when I finish a Beckett play or a novel by Camus, I certainly don't understand the meaning of it all. I'd like a buddy to tell me "It's okay. Neither do I." And then we can talk about it and come up with a semi-rational explanation that will (hopefully) help me sleep better at night. Because most of the time, I'm up thinking about these things.

I will probably be up tonight thinking about the movie I just saw (and also from the espresso from the restaurant earlier this evening...bad choice, Hannah) hoping to make sense of it all and really to come to my own opinion. It wasn't until the end credits that I realized Revolutionary Road was based off of the Richard Yates novel, which I have yet to read. This made sense because during my viewing I was thinking about how it would have been a better book than a movie. I really didn't know what to think about the whole thing. We have this Titanic reunion, a good story set up, and a fantastic director. The trailer seemed a little daunting, but I yielded this to what I thought was a bad music choice. I was expecting a Stepford Wives type story, with a conspiracy to conform to the suburban ideal and a young married couple discovering the truth and the secret brainwashing that goes on in their inconspicuous neighborhood. Or not even with a magic realism twist, I was expecting at least a discovery of the influences of a new consumerism society in the fifties and a rejection of the values of the cookie cutter lifestyle, a REVOLUTION for individualism. But the movie did not play out that way, at least I don't think so. When thinking about this movie, especially since it was based on an original story, I consider it in two different categories: the quality of the film and the effectiveness of the message. Strictly speaking in context of the former category, I thought Revolutionary Road was not what it could have been. Although I laughed much more than I thought I would, I was a bit disillusioned. The performances of the actors were not of their best. The two strongest were Kate Winslet and Michael Shannon. And I hate to say this, but I found myself criticizing Leonardo DiCaprio. I really respect him as an actor and have never been disappointed from his films. Maybe it's because I hold him up to such a high standard that I felt this way. But oh well. He probably won't be reading this so I don't risk offending him and so I have no need to offer my gratitude for The Departed, Catch Me If You Can, and What's Eating Gilbert Grape. And maybe I didn't like the scenes because I sensed a lack of editing skills. I imagined the editor at his cutting table (although most movies are not shot on film that can be cut anymore. It's pretty much all digital now, thanks to my aunt and a small team at Qualcom by the way) viewing all the footage and choosing the most dramatic takes for each scene. Now, I want drama in a movie, but not in every scene. And I don't blame the actors for being too dramatic. While filming they do dozens of takes, some of which are dramatic and some of which are more subtle. So I can excuse the actors for this. But, as a judge in such a high authority as mine, I place the blame on the culpable editor, or whoever chose the takes to print.

As for the message, I felt very foggy at the denouement. I so badly wanted the movie to be about breaking from the conformity, from the unauthorized rules that bind us to the "natural way of life": go to school, get married, have kids, settle down, and be happy. But I went away confused. Frank and April were striving after the American dream in Paris. The American dream in America was obviously unsatisfactory to them. But maybe that's just it. There is no such thing as the American dream. Even with a marriage, a nice house, a promotion, two kids and one on the way, they weren't happy. I don't know. I want to think about it some more. It is very possible that Yates was fulfilling my expectations of the message of the story, but the movie remake really muddled it for me. Maybe I'll read the book, and maybe even mention it here on this fabulous website.

I also wanted to talk about Frost Nixon (which was terrific...A+ Mr. Howard) but am actually very tired now and want to take advantage of my fatigue. Perhaps another time.