“I just wanted us to live again. For years, I thought we've shared this secret that we would be wonderful in the world. I don't know exactly how, but just the possibility kept me hoping. How pathetic is that? So stupid. To put all your hopes in a promise that was never made.”
I had been warned about “Reservation Road.” As a newlywed, the advice went, don’t see this movie, because it’ll make you give up on marriage pretty quick. And from jumpstreet, it offered an admittedly bleak depiction of matrimony; there’s no denying that. In fact, the entire flick was pervaded with a sense of melancholy and depression—not surprising considering that Sam Mendes was the director. The entire movie came off with very similar tones, emotions and themes as another Mendes vehicle, “American Beauty.”
The lead characters were Leonardo DiCaprio and the always-amazing Kate Winslet—who happens to be Mendes’ real-life wife. (On a side note, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for Mendes to be directing scenes where his wife is getting dry-humped by two different dudes.) DiCaprio is a bit too much of an over-actor for my liking, but he’s solid as worn-out salesman Frank Wheeler, while Winslet plays his bored wife, April. Frank sees his life stretching out before him, a series of days where he has to punch the clock while never chasing the aspirations he holds inside, returning on the train to the mind-numbing clockwork of suburbia at the end of every workday. April holds on to the memories of their courtship, dreaming of running away from it all, to Europe or anywhere with a pulse.
In many ways, the settings and camerawork reminded me of “Mad Men”; in fact, many of the storylines are similar to how that show would be if Don Draper’s wife, Betty, had a spine. Mendes makes a number of rather odd directorial choices in the quest to capture the spiritual degradation of the 9-to-5 life, resulting in a depressing and emotionally voided movie. We are led to believe that the Wheelers have a couple of children, but they are mysteriously never present, representing a huge missing piece of the film. They were always conveniently absent, leading the viewer to wonder what role they truly play in the Wheelers’ life: How do the children affect their decision-making? What would be different if they never had kids at all? How do the children react to the hostility within the household?
A series of affairs, growing hatred, a recognition of disparate dreams, a never-ending litany of lies and a refusal to communicate ensue, with the result being that April is reduced to a very creepy, “Stepford Wives”-type of robot. This Cure-worthy depression-fest eventually culminates in an ending that appears shocking at first, but then seems to fit right in in retrospect, when you’ve had time to reflect on the flick.
Let’s just say this isn’t a holiday movie. And if you’re in a hiccupping relationship, have second thoughts about getting married or basically questioning the opposite sex in any way, you may be best served to pull a U-turn before you pull up to “Revolutionary Road.”
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