SUBURBICON – Review

Strap yourself in for another trek in the cinema “way-back” machine at your local multiplex. And for once it’s not a “biopic” or a story “inspired by true events” like MARSHALL or BREATHE. Yes, it’s pure fiction but it is set firmly in the real world. The movies have often viewed the 1950’s through the “rose-tinted” lens of nostalgia, as if yearning for that simpler, more innocent time. TVeven joined in with its long running hit “Happy Days” (that 70’s show now has its own nostalgic glow, as seen in the recent KINGSMEN: THE GOLDEN CIRCLE). Sure, they were indeed happy days…if you were part of the right social class, religion or race. . That’s the view of this new film, no surprise since it sprang from the minds of Joel and Ethan, the Coen brothers. But they’re not behind the camera on this project (supposedly this is an unproduced script of theirs from 1986), instead one of their frequent collaborators is finally filming it. It’s beloved actor George Clooney sliding into the director’s chair for his sixth feature film. In his last film, THE MONUMENTS MEN he guided us through WW II ravaged Europe. Well he’s back in the ole’ US of A in a place full of its own dangers. What’s that sign on the road say? Welcome to SUBURBICON.

The film opens up with a sales pamphlet/brochure that itself opens up to taut the joys of living in the postwar utopia known as Suburbicon. The brightly colored illustrations spring to life, full of happy smiling residents from all around the country (“We’re from New York!” “And we’re from Mississippi!”), as the ad copy extolls the conveniences of this newly designed haven (“Our own police force…and fire department!”). As the booklet closes we’re following the mailman on his rounds there, going from one immaculately groomed front lawn to the next. Oh look, a new family is moving in. But the postman’s frozen grin curls down as he discovers that the newcomers are black (“colored” for those pre-PC times). They become the main topic at a very emotional town meeting that night (“…driving down our property values!” Get em’ out!”). Cut to the backyard of the Lodge house, directly across from the backyard of the despised new neighbors, the Mayers. Wheelchair-bound Rose Lodge (Julianne Moore) demands that her eight year-old son Nicky (Noah Jupe) go play ball with the same-aged Mayers boy. Rose’s twin sister Margaret agrees. Later that night an angry mob gathers outside the Mayers home to taunt and harass, while more sinister things or happening at the Lodge house. Nicky’s dad Gardner (Matt Damon) enters his bedroom (“Men are in the house”). Downstairs two thugs, Sloan (Glenn Fleshler) and Louis (Alex Hassell), demand money as they hover over the twins. After tying everyone to chairs, Sloan drenches a handkerchief with chloroform (or ether) and covers their mouths. As Ricky drifts off, he sees Sloan give his mother a second dose. Waking up in the hospital, he sees his mother in a coma. She doesn’t survive. At Rose’s funeral, her and Margaret’s brother, the crude but kind Mitch (Gary Basaraba), tells Ricky to count on him for anything. In the following week, Margaret slides a little easily into the mother role as Gardner tries to return to work. Ricky soon learns that his mother wasn’t the victim of a botched home invasion. And as the crowds outside the Mayers house increase in numbers and volume, a slick insurance investigator, Bud Cooper (Oscar Isaac) pays a business visit to the Lodges. Will he shed a light on the dark secret at the heart of this “perfect” neighborhood?

Though he’s not the film’s main focus, Damon gives his timid role from THE INFORMANT! a sinister twist. His vintage specs do much of the comedic work, while Daddy Lodge sweats and squints as though he’s a walking “pinched nerve” encased in a sweat-drenched white short-sleeve shirt. He’s Hank from TV’s “King of the Hill”, though always on the verge of blowing his top. Moore as Margaret (we hardly get to know Rose) is better able to contain her emotions, using her cheery “happy homemaker’ smile as a mask to hide her inner demons. She’s a slightly less-homicidal cousin to her recent KINGSMEN villain role. Big kudos to Isaac for injecting a burst of energy when the story begins to sag. His “get right to the point” insurance PI is a frothy mix of Fred McMurray in DOUBLE INDEMNITY and MUSIC MAN Harold Hill and worthy of his own solo flick. Actually the film doesn’t really belong to that trio of screen vets, since we view the story through the eyes of young Jupe. He delivers just the right note of sweetness and terrified paranoia. We feel his confusion over the odd behaviors of the “grown ups” and we root for him to escape his perfect home turned shrinking trap. Barsaraba is quite enjoyable as the lovable bear of an uncle. And as the thugs, Fleshler is pure sweaty menace and Hassell is the perfect “bug-eyed weasel” accomplice.

The look of early “baby boomer” America is faithfully recreated by the art directors from the fashions to the bulky cars, and the early remote-controlled TVs (a beam of light…hmm). It feels right, but why doesn’t the film gel? The talented Clooney has had a difficult time finding the right comic tone since his great debut, CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND (LEATHERHEADS felt really forced, as was MONUMENTS MEN). The delightful satire of the opening titles is quickly jettisoned in favor of pitch black, often gruesome crime calamity (it figures that this script was the Coen’s follow-up to BLOOD SIMPLE). Perhaps Clooney with frequent collaborator Grant Heslov should have made another run at that shelved script to smooth out the bumps. The flow of the film is thrown off by cutting from the main story (the murder/robbery) to the raging hatred directed at the Mayers. Plus there’s nothing amusing in the mob menacing this proud family (perhaps this was the plot’s reason why the bumbling police force wasn’t paying much mind to the mayhem at the Lodge home). Alexandre Desplat contributes another assured score that goes from whimsical to foreboding. Ricky’s a compelling kid hero whose plight harkens back to classics like THE WINDOW and INVADERS FROM MARS, but he can’t shoulder this wildly uneven failed farce. Now there’s the sign I was yearning to see after an hour on this village road: “Now leaving SUBURBICON”.

2 Out of 5