American Beauty

American Beauty has had the type of buzz that usually signifies the arrival of a true gem. Preview audiences proclaimed it the best film of the year months before it was scheduled to hit theaters. Critics and audiences alike called it symbolic, metaphoric, captivating filmmaking. When buzz is this strong, it's important to remain skeptical. When viewed with skepticism or not, American Beauty turns out to be exactly what the buzz had indicated.

It's the type of film that exists almost entirely under the surface. It's the type of gentle nudge that urges the audience to examine what you've got. Debut director Sam Mendes shows off remakarkable skills of subtlety and restaint. What could have been a forceful knock over the head turns into a tap on the shoulder, awakening the audience to the themes hidden within the story.

The story follows Lester Buhrman dealing with a mid-life crisis. He's run into a sudden realization that he moves through life pointlessly as a drone amongst many at a corporate plant. Looking to add spice to his life, he makes new career plans, starts to work out, and falls lustly in love with his teenage daughter's best friend. This things all fall under the objection of his wife of many years, Caroline. As expected, his daughter Jane is none too fond of his new found affection. The family has fallen on hard times, but it's only because Lester's trying to find some use out of his aging body. He wants to feel young again, and he wants to see beauty again. He's been numbed by his existence, to the point that he's willing to do anything to change.

Lester is played with cunning sharpness and bite by Kevin Spacey. His comic timing is perfect and his expressions are full of wisdom. He brilliantly brings to life his character and the relationships that he has with his wife Caroline and daughter Jane. Caroline is played expertly by Annette Bening, and Jane is effectively portrayed by Thora Birch. Wes Bentley is the mysterious neighbor Ricky and Chris Cooper plays his homophobic, militaristic father Frank. Adding further spice to the mix is Mena Suvari, giving vibrant life to the character of Angela, who's young, brash sexiness is what causes the decent into crisis that this film uses as its base.

The across-the-board excellence of the cast brings to life an intriguing script by first-time writer Alan Ball. It's a script with an edge; containing commentary on the ideals of America, and the idea that we have of living our "perfect life." A perfect house doesn't necessarily entail having a white house with a white picket fence, but this is exactly what the Buhrman's have outside. They've got the quintessential rose garden surrounding a house whose members have little in common and little to associate each other with. It definitely isn't beautiful. The irony, however, is that the story's ultimate theme shows that such a thing can be beautiful.

Cinematographer Conrad Hall brings the film shot by Mendes to a vibrant, bright life. Contrast between colors is prominent, especially with the color red. Perhaps it's a symbol of the movie that each time a red rose is contained in the frame it seems to glow with life. From the very beginning when Caroline examines a lush red rose with her pruning shears to the end when there's darkness enveloping all and a bouquet of roses glowing in the center, Hall brings the film to life. His cinematography is one of the best pieces of work I've ever seen, further enhancing the repertoire of the most consistently excellent members of any film crew.

American Beauty is just that: beautiful. It's also mesmerizing and consistently able to suprise. Steven Spielberg, who took Sam Mendes as his protege, called this movie one of the finest films in years before its release. Thankfully, he's right.

On a scale of 1 to 10 brilliantly red rose petals : 9