The result is like being invited over to the neighborhood home of a querulous couple, as you sit awkwardly counting the minutes until you can excuse yourself to relieve the babysitter. Under Mendes' direction, the couple never becomes an actual “couple,” just sounding boards for each other's frustrations.
The only character who is halfway interesting is John (played by the excellent Michael Shannon), a neighbor's son, fresh from a mental institution, who delights in exposing the couple's flaws and hidden truths to their life together. Also to the film's credit is production designer Kristi Zea who captures the suburban sterility in almost every scene within the home.
But despite the effective histrionics of Leo and Kate – which feel more like Oscar-clip reels than part of a cohesive narrative – the film is never the deeply moving, personal character study it wants to by. Directors Douglas Sirk (Imitation of Life, All That Heaven Allows) and Nicholas Ray (Bigger Than Life, Rebel Without a Cause) covered the same dirt-under-the-astroturf territory decades ago, when it felt more dangerous to do so. Hell, even the Brady Bunch got in on it in their 1995 film.
Exposing the lack of conformity of '50s wedded bliss today carries none of the same impact. We are closing in on the second decade of the new millennium, and I think it's pretty well established that the image of the “perfect family” was a myth. Viewers can simply tune into AMC's expertly crafted Mad Men each week to witness a much more colorful, developed expose of the era's seamier side instead a dead-end drive down this Road.
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