Mendes adds to his list of masterpieces (American Beauty, Jarhead) with Revolutionary Road. Following the same pursuit of his previous films, Mendes focuses upon and captures his main subject of fascination: what makes humans fall apart. The film, based on the book of the same title by Richard Yates, immediately pricks the audience with the thorns of Frank (Leonardo DiCaprio) and April (Kate Winslet) Wheeler’s restless marriage, juxtaposing a magical night from their past -- the night they first met, and danced and stared into each other’s eyes -- with a recent night of their marriage, when April's disappointing performance in a town play sends the couple into a fierce argument. The reunited acting duo must enjoy sinking ships, because they take the plunge into dark, frigid waters again, although this time, far less romantically.
The couple’s story unfurls; relatively happy scenes from their past are spliced with their dreadful present, and with genius direction Mendes portrays the new and exciting feelings of falling in love, getting married, having children, buying and playing house, but makes the audience listen carefully to the monotonous hollow echo that remains once the novelty wears off. The result is Frank in a job he can’t stand, imprisoned by the shell of the American Dream, and April as a house wife never having been anywhere or having experienced anything.
Mendes' filming conspicuously underscores the fact that nothing about their life is actually bad; it is just ordinary. But they happen to be two individuals that still want more than the morning commute, household chores, business lunches, children playing in a perfectly kept lawn, gardening, and a marriage with nights retiring to separate sides of the bed. Their quarrels are severe as they punish one another for the normalcy they let themselves slip into.
The only relief from their highly tense relationship comes when April suggests that they relocate the family to Paris, the place where Frank states he had felt the most alive. They have enough money in savings to make it there and live comfortably for a few months, and she can work as a secretary to support the family as Frank is able to pursue the life he wants. “I want to feel things. Really feel them.” Frank says to April as they are falling in love, and Paris embodies the ability to do just that. The two decide to go for it, and face opposition from every direction. No one understands why they need to leave, no one thinks their plan is responsible, and no one wants them to do it. This is with the exception of John Givings (Michael Shannon) the institutionalized son of the Wheeler’s realtor, who despite being insane only speaks the truth. He is the first person to understand the Wheeler’s and is excited for the potential their life holds.
Amidst the couple’s schemes, Frank is offered a significant promotion and is ultimately seduced back into company life, enticed by the aroma of comfort and stability, earning plenty of money, and being the sole supporter of his family. Eventually the Wheeler’s give up on Paris and the relationship becomes savage. The last forty minutes is almost unwatchable, with a brutal ending that doesn’t encourage sleep, and makes for an upset stomach.
The intriguing thing is that even though the decision not to go to Paris was catastrophic in the Wheeler’s lives, most audiences, and reviewers still oppose John Givings and the Wheeler’s. The majority of this culture will agree that “Paris” is irresponsible, that “feeling things” isn’t a good enough reason, that experiencing life isn’t a solid enough dream, and that it takes more backbone to fulfill societal responsibilities than to live the life you want. But a few heretics remain who believe this is false, that the only redemption this life has to offer lies in taking the road less traveled; a revolutionary road. Even Mendes falls short of this idea, his main focus being the wreckage of Frank and April, not the nobility of their pursuits, ultimately failing to communicate the obvious point of Yates’ novel. That is: Go to fucking Paris.
