Based on the acclaimed 1962 novel by Richard Yates, Revolutionary Road is a clear-eyed indictment of the American dream as it stood in 1950’s America—the respectable house with the well-manicured lawn, the upwardly mobile job in the city, the 2.5 children, and the desire to be just like everyone else but slightly better. Well maybe the dream hasn’t changed that much. Our protagonists Frank and April Wheeler are the designated professional automatons at the service of Sam Mendes’ suburbia.
April, played by Kate Winslet, is an anomaly—a modern woman transplanted into an era that doesn’t acknowledge her cool contempt or outsized aspirations. Her enduring weakness is a desire to be special and fulfill some imaginary potential. When she is proven unsuccessful as an actress, she transfers her aspirations to her husband. April latches on to Frank’s (Leonardo DiCaprio) past youthful exuberance over France and identifies Europe as a place where a man can discover what he’s good at. Winslet barrels through the film screaming, staring, purring, smiling, and pouting with deadly purpose once this idea floats into view. It is a performance full of delicious contradictions that only an actress of her caliber could pull off—April Wheeler she is not.
If April can’t succeed, at least she can encourage Frank to. She will do whatever it takes to desert her rueful existence on Revolutionary Road. However, she may be the only one who doesn’t see how painfully plain Frank is. His stooped shoulders can’t support her reveries. DiCaprio barely registers on screen—ensconced in a cloak of brooding—but this seems appropriate for the character he plays whether on purpose or not. This is far from the nuanced performance DiCaprio surprisingly unleashed in The Departed, bobbing and weaving through the moribund screenplay. Here he lumbers through the frame, providing customary bursts of anger and hangdog incredulity almost as if on cue.
April’s biggest fear is to end up like the couple next door, the Campbells. Milly and Shep have bought into the boredom wholly. Any dreams they might have, infidelity and alcohol abuse come to mind, are neatly confined to the four corner posts of their narrow world. When the Wheelers confide in them about their planned escape, they look as if they have been personally insulted. What does Paris have that can’t be found in the verdant hills of Connecticut? you see their eyes screaming. Milly’s hysterical breakdown later hints at some interior monologue—some latent realization of her truncated options—but her husband remains a brick wall.
As the momentum of the relocation plan builds steam and word reaches friends and work colleagues, the Wheelers are variously belittled as immature, unrealistic, and whimsical. For a moment one can imagine that they are stuck in an Americana simulation in the The Matrix. The system isn’t done using them up yet and is conspiring with the aid of agents to get them to stay put. The only person who seems to understand their flight from “hopeless emptiness” is John Givings, the son of their real estate agent. Michael Shannon gives a wonderfully manic performance. The cruel joke is that he is clinically insane with 36 shock treatments under his belt and a head full of impersonal anger and disgust at humanity.
However, as the resident Shakespearean fool, John delivers the most searing, truthful condemnations of the Wheelers. Once their boat has set sail without them and the haze dissipates back into reality, he bares his fangs. John immediately recognizes April as the cold, utilitarian harpy and Frank as the weak-willed, self-centered sycophant. They deserve the effete burden of domesticity as they slowly suck the life out of each other at the speed of indifference.
We somehow know instinctively that they will never make it out of their self-made prison. April’s unexpected pregnancy late in the film is simply a convenient excuse for Frank to reverse course. The greater impetus is a debilitating fear that he will end up like his father before him—a forgotten company salesman. The unknown future that April dangles before him is merely another chance to fail, while the guaranteed promotion at home is a chance to be more, to be memorable.
This is one of those films that you know from the outset can’t end well. April is too ambitious for a 50’s housewife and Frank is just ambitious enough. The inevitable collision though is far from predictable. This film may leave you alternately bitter, frustrated, or morose, but it won’t leave you bored. That fate is only suffered by the characters between the explosive scenes on screen.
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I worked on this film for a little bit over a year. It had a very frustrating production (much like the plot itself) I think it overall got what it deserved in terms of awards and accolades, though I would have enjoyed Michael Shannon getting a win!