In one of the most telling moments in “Revolutionary Road,” the embattled protagonist must make a choice.
The unambitious Frank Wheeler must decide if he will stay in America–continuing to weather an unrewarding job as a salesman–or if he will move to Paris with his wife, April.
Sweating, crouched over his desk, he whispers a cryptic phrase into his dictophone:
“Knowing what you got…knowing what you need…knowing what you can do without…that’s inventory control.”
And we are left to wonder what he will do.
In a time where more people than ever are stuck in jobs they hate—with no clear escape–the melancholy but poignant “Revolutionary Road” strikes a chord in its audience and brings up some tough questions. Could we do more in life? Do we even enjoy the jobs we slave away at? Can we break free some society’s grasp over us?
Like so many of us–this movie seems to say–we don’t know what we need, what we have, or what we can do without.
We meet Kate and Frank just as they’ve begun their love affair. Kate, an attractive blonde who, as she proclaims, “Is studying to be an actress,” typifies the romantic, idealistic archetype of a repressed 1950’s housewife. Frank, a disillusioned, self-conscious man who can’t ever figure his wife out, has lost dreams of being more than just a failed businessman.
Together–after spending a considerable time at each other’s throats– the Wheelers make big plans to leave the suburbs for romantic life in Paris. April longs for adventure, for a break from the repressed 1950’s society, and she offers to support Frank while he finally figures out his path in life.
Rooted in 1950’s suburbia, Director Sam Mendes (American Beauty) builds on Richard Yates’ 1961 novel version to portray a stifling society that looks little beyond the next big house.
Their seemingly prim and proper neighbors—Shep and Milly Campbell—(even their names are vanilla)–act as perfect foils for the Wheelers’ idyllic visions, professing shock at the idea of leaving “paradise.”
Other neighbors think they’re insane, too, for wanting out, including the peppy Ms. GIvings, played memorably by Kathy Bates, who prefers to talk of “rainbows” and happy thoughts instead of dealing with her real problems.
One of those problems is her son, John Givens, who acts as the voice of reason in the Wheeler household—even though he’s just a visitor recently released form the insane asylum.
Like the wise fool in Shakespeare, John Givens manages to make insane look downright plausible. Right when he enters the Wheeler house, his brutally honest observations cut to the quick—“You want to play house you got to have a job. You want to play nice house, very sweet house, you got to have a job you don’t like.” Givens steals the two small scenes he is in and acts to expose the couple short-sighted, romanticized vision of freedom.
Though neither character—Frank or April– ever masters the art of “inventory control” in realizing what they need to be happy, their furious anger at each other is at once entertaining and depressing.
One thing that both characters do realize is that freedom does not come without consequences.
Perhaps April Wheeler says it best when chastising her husband: “It takes backbone to live the life you want, Frank.”
Maybe we all could benefit from some “inventory control”…