AMERICAN PASTORAL (2O16)
Directed by Ewan
McGregor
Lionsgate, 108
minutes, R (language, violent images, sexual content)
★★ 1/2
American Pastoral was
one of the biggest box offices bombs of all of 2016. In most places it closed
before the theater popcorn filled the hopper and it took in a mere $541,000.
It's not that terrible, but being
merely mediocre isn't good enough for an adaptation of a Pulitzer Prize winning
novel by Philip Roth (1998).
To repeat a point I've made in other reviews, there simply
haven't been many decent films about the 1960s counterculture. Most are either
embarrassingly romantic or conservative screeds. American Pastoral gets credit for at least attempting to interject
nuance, but ultimately it's as flat a bowling alley. The blame for this rests
squarely on the shoulders of director Ewan McGregor, who simply hasn't mastered
that role at this stage of his career. The film opens in 1995, with Roth's
frequent alter ego, Nathan Zuckerman (David Strathairn), in Newark to attend
his 45th high school reunion. There he runs into an old friend,
Jerry Levov and right away we have problems. For old friends, Nathan and Jerry
are icier than freezer pops in Greenland. The scene is a hackneyed device for
one of the most shopworn of all filmmaking techniques: the voice over narrative
that sets up a flashback.
American Pastoral
centers on Jerry's brother, Seymour ("Swede"), who was the high
school/college Golden Boy who married the Golden Girl and former Miss Jersey,
Dawn Dwyer (Jennifer Connelly). After amusing but overly sweet overtures to
convince Swede's father, Lou (Peter Reigert) that a nice Jewish boy and a nice
Roman Catholic girl are meant for each other, Swede (McGregor) and Dawn proceed
to build a Golden Life in the Golden 1950s: a tidy home, Swede's takeover of
Lou's glove factory, a happy interracial workforce, and the birth of a
flaxen-haired daughter upon whom her parents dote. But we all know what
Shakespeare said about the glister of gold. The Vietnam War radicalizes daughter
Meredith (Dakota Fanning), mom and pop are at a loss to know what to do with
foul-mouthed angry as a hornet "Merry," and are too inept to prevent
her from trudging over to New York City to hang out with other radicals. The
Levovs vainly try to stay above the turmoil of the 1960s—rather turgidly told
through stitched-together news clips—and to maintain the historic alliance
between blacks and Jews in the wake of the Newark race riot. The latter gets a stagey
treatment, by which I mean it truly looks more like a theater set than an urban
riot. Piece by piece, Merry is slipping away. When a bombing kills an innocent
shopkeeper the Levovs have known forever, Merry is the prime suspect and
disappears within a group that's the Weather Underground thinly veiled. Every
new bombing makes the Levovs wonder if Merry is involved.
Roth readers will recognize another common trope: the
erosion of the American Dream. (How meta—a trope about a trope!) Dawn is
metaphorically and then physically transformed by all of this, while Swede
grows obsessed with trying to find his daughter and wonders what has happened
to basic human decency when his only connection to her is Rita Cohen (Valerie
Curry), a vulgar slogan-chanting taunt-the-Establishment punk. The deeper Swede
goes, the more his American pastoral turns to parched earth.
McGregor departs from the novel at various places as the
film winds to a clunky conclusion—none of which are improvements.
There's a lesson here: Don't try to upgrade a book that
carries off literature's top prize. Here's another: Ewan McGregor is much
better in front of the camera than behind it. It's an interesting idea to play
off the liberalism of his central family. We seldom see the clash between
liberals and radicals in films about the 1960s, though the two did indeed
despise each other with as much fervor as they battled conservatives. There's
also an enticing theme of liberals betraying each other. Sadly, McGregor lacks
the panache to flesh out these moments or to bring to life much of the detail
from Roth's novel (some of which was drawn from actual people he knew).
Maybe it's not so surprising that it took nearly twenty
years for anyone to make American
Pastoral into a film. Perhaps it's simply too sprawling in scope to lend
itself to a good adaptation. Should you watch McGregor's effort? There's
certainly no harm in downloading it. Like I said; it's neither terribly good
not terribly bad. It just made me sigh. If we can make so many great films about
Vietnam, why haven't we made at least one about the war at home?
Rob Weir
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