Pleasantville

Viewed August 29, 1999 on video

I don't think it was until the middle of the film, when the townsfolk who are wary of the strange new happenings in their town begin to hang signs in their windows reading "No Coloreds" and burning the books in the library that no one had ever really read until recently. Up to that point, the film had merely served up the preposterousness of an idealized 50s, with the hometown basketball team that shoots perfectly and nobody needing to do a number in the bathroom.  A period of self-discovery blooms, thanks to the two new visitors of Pleasantville; kids start to act more freely, turning from black and white to saturated color as they express themselves more independently.  Then, just as the film starts to get giddy with its technique, the town's reactionary period comes in at the right time, bringing a stunning contrast to the period of blooming we had witnessed.  The sobering fourth act is what gives this film a great load of relevance, and saves it from being just a cute little step forward in special effects technology.

This movie wasn't as terrific as I'd thought it would be -- it impressed me a lot but it didn't amaze me, even visually.  There was a lot of cleverness but very little I would consider brilliant.  The film tries its best to stay upbeat and full of neat images and ideas, but only when the dark period falls on the town that this novelty of a movie becomes meaningful.  Unfortunately, the movie does its best to keep its message of growth and openness simple, steering away from darker, complicated implications.

I think Roger Ebert makes an interesting point that this movie helps us realize that, for all of its turmoil, the age we live in is a really blessed one; the present is filled with perhaps a little too much information than we can manage sometimes, but it's still preferable over the homogeneity of the 50s.  Actually, I don't think the film is trying to represent or criticize the 50s in itself; the representation is too generic and the filmmakers are too clever to be trying that.  Their target is the idea of the 50s -- conservatism -- that people may yearn for by upholding tradition, simplicity and aversion to change. 

This message is stated rather broadly through its characters and images.  The conservatives are likened to fascists (which, in certain instances, isn't false) and an extreme to be avoided.  On the other hand, the Reese Witherspoon character as a slut embodies the other extreme, a liberal lifestyle gone wrong, and that's as far as the film goes to portray the hazards of freedom among the youth -- what about all the pregnancies that would have occurred after evenings at Lover's Lane?  Here, for the sake of simplifying the parameters of the story, they took a detour from the full consequences of this flowering youth movement, and, by extension, a commentary on the shortcomings of the 60s.  Instead we are given a more pleasing image of the slut turned scholar, a gentle transformation that distracts us from the more unruly implications of a youth movement. 

At least the film is open-hearted in thinking that everyone, including the staunchly old school mayor, is capable of change (though his change, during a generically over-the-top monologue, is not very convincing).  The final image is bewilderingly open-ended, but provocative, and I think it's effectively symbolic of the choices that are now accessible to the Joan Allen character in her modern phase, and the state of dilemma that accompanies those choices. 

Joan Allen is a brilliant actress, who has mastered the art of self-effacement.  She does that scene putting on the black and white make up, and every other scene, brilliantly, a strong sense of family love and duty commingled with a deeper dissatisfaction with herself.  She really shines among a cast of really talented actors who are given rather shallow character roles and play them by the book.  Tobey Maguire's character acts  more like a Star Trek than 50s sitcom fan; the quiet observer, trying his utmost not to interfere with the life patterns he's studied so diligently.  Finally, when the tide of color is loosed,  he finds himself a bastion of temperate liberalism; a Clinton-era moderate posing as progressive.  How inspiring.  After The Ice Storm, Maguire's finding himself typecast; hopefully his subtle approach to character portrayal will evolve before it evaporates.

After listening to my critique of Pleasantville's idealogy, my brother had an interesting idea for the move: rather than having the townsfolk struggle with the idea of being colored before embracing it wholeheartedly, they should have accepted it collectively, and then deal with the various consequences for the rest of the film.  Writer/director Gary Ross gets caught up with convincing us that the 90's are better than the 50's.  In the process denies all of the hardships that modern life presents to us and that make our lives more complex and interesting. It's ironic that Pleasantville, in criticizing pleasantness in favor of freedom, concludes that the value of freedom is its pleasantness.

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