REVOLUTIONARY ROAD

Commentary on Film: Revolutionary Road

Stumbling upon a film review for “Revolutionary Road,” I was intrigued by the subject matter, suburban life in 1955 Connecticut, and looked forward to seeing it as soon as I could. I had never heard of the novel by Richard Yates, published in 1961and was happy to find the book, newly available due to a promotional tie-in to the film, and I devoured the book and pondered its meaning for days. It had tremendous impact on me, based on my own experiences and the searing insights of the author. It amazed me that Yates could have such clarity on the subject matter in the brief span between 1955 and 1961. When I finished the book I was sorry to have to put it down; I rushed, at that point, to read everything I could about the author and the book, and by this past Sunday, I made it my business to see the film.

Yates had been anxious to bring his novel to the screen and was disappointed that it never happened during his lifetime. He was invariably turned down because the ending involves a botched abortion – a taboo subject forty-plus years ago. I doubt that the strange treatment that finally made it to the screen would have thrilled him, even though it was produced as a major motion picture with two of Hollywood’s leading luminaries and a solid-gold director.

I know that most novels suffer somewhat when translated to the silver screen, but this one became incomprehensible and purposeless in my estimation.

The foremost difficulty is that the viewer is given no context for Franklin and April Wheeler. They are introduced an attractive thirty-ish couple being shown a home in what had rapidly become a sprawling haven for commuters. Not having a view into what has led them to this moment obliterates the necessary foreshadowing of the catastrophes to follow. Where we should see character flaws, immaturity and neuroses and a thoroughly mismatched couple, we see rather bland but stylish New York City transplants. Given this lack of information, it is hard to care about them as they stumble in what is this artificial and contrived living environment with its new rules and mores, based on a shallow conformity galloping toward what was then perceived as beautiful and ideal. The troubled couple tried to play by the rules of post-World War II America. They got married because everyone was getting married and Frank took a job to earn a living, she got pregnant with a child she didn’t want and so they did what was expected of them, they bought a home, and had yet another child. They became more and more troubled behind their suburban picture window and often turned on each other. Desperate, but not knowing exactly why, April came up with a plan for the emptiness. They would run away to Paris. She would become a secretary and support Frank while he ‘found’ himself. To her surprise, he accepted the plan and they started to act on it, until she found herself pregnant again. Her hopes were dashed but some strange twist of fate, he had the opportunity to advance in his career, despite his lack of real talent or interest. He shrugged it off as a postponement; she crashed and burned.

In this environment of manufactured beauty and idealism, these jagged, ugly problems could only be swept under the rug. If one couldn’t get with the program, that person would be shunned and if difficulties persisted, that person would be institutionalized. This is a very important part of the book. The son of the most influential real estate agent and gatekeeper in the area, Mrs. Givings, is just such an individual. Although he is in a mental hospital, he has earned the privilege of weekend passes. Mrs. Givings, seeing only the idealized Franklin and April, feels that her son would benefit from meeting them. As the only truth-teller in the book, John calls things as he sees them and quickens the downward spiral into the abyss for all concerned.

It is my understanding that Kate Winslet read the book, fell in love with it and campaigned for a screen treatment directed by her husband, Sam Mendes. Is it possible that both Winslet and company missed the point of this excellent novel? Or did I?

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