Revolutionary Road

Young professional Frank Wheeler (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his wife April (Kate Winslet) lead a seemingly charmed life in 1950s suburban Connecticut. He hates his job, however, and she feels suffocated by domesticity. Meanwhile, some trenchant and probing observations by a friend’s mentally ill son (Michael Shannon) threaten to shatter their illusion of a happy family once and for all.




It isn’t easy to create a good movie without a single likeable character, but Sam Mendes appears to have done exactly that. Like Mendes’ best-known film, American Beauty, Revolutionary Road is a scathing indictment of middle-class conformity. But while that movie offered at least a glimpse of hope for some of its characters, Mendes’ adaptation of Richard Yates’ novel strikes a thoroughly despondent note. And that is precisely why it works.



There is something recognizable and perhaps even understandable in every one of Revolutionary Road’s characters, yet every character simultaneously courts contempt – necessary if we are to read this as a critique of their lifestyle. DiCaprio and Winslet (the director’s wife) give very solid lead performances which invert their relationship from Titanic. Instead of kindred spirits divided by class, they are a pair of suburbanites who couldn’t be more different. Frank owns up to his responsibilities as a provider, but is afraid to push himself to do something more with his life. April, on the other hand, never lets go of that spark, but is also irresponsible, deluded and selfish.



The supporting parts are similarly unsympathetic. Cast against type, Kathy Bates does the genteel and quietly judgmental family friend/realtor to perfection. Shannon, however, gives a slightly disappointing performance as her institutionalized son, a burned out mathematician. Though nominated for an Oscar, he does little more than deliver tactless and obvious commentary, something which may seem “shocking” to buttoned-up suburbanites like his parents, but not to the audience. Everything he says is spot-on, though hardly riveting.



One of the film’s greatest triumphs is being able to squeeze maximum tension out of minimum action. The visual look of the film – neatly coiffed hairstyles, white shirts and dresses – stands in such contrast to the characters’ inner disarray that it seems like only a matter of time before something ruptures. Even something as innocuous as April making eggs feels like a potential prelude to a blow-up. If there is one qualm about how this tension is handled, it is that the conclusion felt unsatisfyingly truncated. Credit Mendes/Yates for dodging sentimentality, but they could have shown us more and hit us harder. We can take it.



7.5/10