« Land Of Nod | Main | Winter! »

November 28, 2006

1999

The last year of the twentieth century is regarded as the annus mirabilis of modern American cinema, to which every subsequent year has been compared. There, it has been said, were twelve months during which the studios operated as if they were still in the 1970s and their function was to finance the advancement of an art form, with any potential profit relegated to the role of icing on the cake. It was the year those studios got smart and risky with films like Three Kings and Fight Club and The Insider and The Straight Story and The Iron Giant and Being John Malkovich and South Park, when blockbusters like The Matrix and The Sixth Sense were a cut above average, when Kubrick's final film and The Blair Witch Project opened on the same hot summer day. When Magnolia opened, even though most people didn't see it until January. Every year since, some critic will write that the upcoming slate of pictures is the best lineup since 1999; and yet no other year has ever managed to stick.

The poster child that September was Sam Mendes' American Beauty. It was a shot in the arm, waking audiences from their post Phantom Menace stupor. I remember seeing the trailer for the first time - with those haunting glimpses of suburban disquiet, that rose-colored eroticism, that insistent urge to Look Closer - and being overwhelmed with an excitement that lasted all fall. I was eighteen at the time, and my definition of risk was different; it was bigger, bolder, more bombastic. To wit: I saw Harmony Korine's julien donkey-boy in theaters that fall and was intrigued by its insular, schizophrenic qualities - but how could a grainy curio like that hold a candle to the magnificent anamorphic angst of American Beauty? This was a Great movie! This was what cinema could be!

Was I just immature? Did anyone else actually like the film? The other night, I watched it for the first time since it absconded from the theaters, after its inevitable Oscar sweep. I'd avoided it over the years - at first circumstantially and then, as my tastes evolved, very much on purpose. A good call, it turns out, because within seconds - as soon as Kevin Spacey's wise narration reveals to us that in fact, he may be dead already - I wanted to throw the remote control at the screen.

I recall reading an article by William Goldman around the time the film was released, in which he essentially trashed any comparisons betwen Beauty and the films that were being made in his own heyday. If it were really a 70s film, he wrote, Kevin Spacey would have fucked the girl.

You're missing the point! I thought to my eighteen-year-old self when I first read that. I was enraged! That was the very moment his character became whole! When the film fulfilled its promise, completed its arc! But Goldman was right on the money. He should have fucked the girl. Instead, the film lets everyone off the hook and, despite the splatter of Spacey's brains on the wall, arrives at a big warm fuzzy hug of an ending.

My intentions here are not to smear American Beauty. I'm not sure if I'll ever see it again, but I don't begrudge anyone for liking it, or even loving it. It does get better once that narration ceases, and when it's being funny, it's actually pretty good; indeed, Alan Ball's wit (and, to be sure, Mendes' beautiful direction) is exactly what saves this from toppling under near-Haggis proportions of pretension and profundity. It's a fine piece of tricky mainstream entertainment, but what it really made me think about was voicing a suspicion that I've had for a while: maybe 1999 isn't all that it's cracked up to be.

I went back and looked at a list of every film that were released that year. There really were a lot of great ones, both from studios and independents, from America and abroad. Quite a few of them were, and are, a lot better than American Beauty. But then I looked at a list from, say, 2002, when Punch Drunk Love and Adaptation and Far From Heaven were released; or 2005, which saw rising from the bowels of the studio system such titles as The New World, A History Of Violence, Good Night And Good Luck, Syriana, Capote and a handful of other films still fresh and vibrant in the public eye. Sure, 1999 may have signified some sort of paradigm shift, but it certainly wasn't a high water mark.

Rather, I think cinematic memories of 1999 are as much about the year as about the films. Clinton was on trial. Columbine happened. The end of the world was nigh. I graduated from high school. It was a precipital turning point of a year. As Jonathan Rosenbaum put it at the time:

Nineteen ninety-nine was a pivotal year in movies, clarifying where a lot of people stood and who they were. This kind of definition was encouraged by the existential stocktaking that came with the end of the millennium—the compiling of more best-film lists than usual (of the 90s, of the century) and more generalized meditating on the state of the art and the medium.

The Y2K bug had infected our critical minds, which was fine and good. But it's still scurrying around in there under the gauze of memory and an armament of disproportionate ideals. Why was 1999 such a landmark year for cinema? Because I was eighteen and in love, that's why.

Lately, I've grown a little tired of grouping films into fiscal periods and making those annual top ten lists (it's far more exciting and far less limited to explore alternative categorization, such as auteurs and genres and modes). But I'll admit that it's handy - not as a qualitative tool of criticism but as a sort of chronological barometer. It helps keep track of time and it's comforting, to group things together and set them apart, to compare them to what's passed and look forward to what's around the corner. It's something safe to hold onto. To that extent, we're still holding onto 1999 - or, at least, some version of it.

Posted by David Lowery at November 28, 2006 12:25 PM

Comments

I kind of tag that period as '99-'03, bookended by Rushmore in late '98 and Eternal Sunshine in early '04.

Posted by: mutinyco at November 28, 2006 01:43 AM

very beautiful piece of writing, david....and you're right. absolutely. i just recently watched AMERICAN BEAUTY and didn't find it as compelling as when i saw it at age 16 my sophmore year of high school. Funny. I remember all of these films for shaping me who i am now...whether good or bad, they influence, eh? but funny how tastes change and truths come to light.

Posted by: frank at November 28, 2006 01:48 AM

Right on about 1999, David. You practically wrought in this piece everything I've always wanted to say about that year, but were too afraid to question. This is the sort of blog entry that'll get you new readers.

Posted by: Karsten at November 28, 2006 04:51 AM

I'm with you (I own American Beauty on DVD, but haven't watched it since 2000 or so), but I still love '99 and always will.

I think it was such a nostalgic time and those films are so incredibly nostalgia inducing (Iron Giant for crap's sake) that you can't help but love the year and most of the films from it.

That year was one of the years I was a projectionist during. An amazing time of being fairly carefree and getting to watch movies for no cost and before everyone else (hell, I even liked Phantom Menace the first time I watched it just because I got to see it before everyone else).

I refer to 98 and 99 as the "projectionist period" of my life and the list of films released during that period has been better than both the "film school period" and the "my life sucks" periods that have come and gone since.

Posted by: Regularkarate at November 28, 2006 10:45 AM

RK, 1999 was definitely a defining year in my life, and through that exact confluence of quality and nostalgia, I'll always hold it in high regard. I was a projectionist at the time, too (my own "projectionist period" was 1997-99 and then again from 2001-2003), and I have wonderful memories of staying up at the theater all night on Wednesdays and Thursdays to screen the new prints. I even have strong attachments to crappy movies like The Messenger and ... uh... House On Haunted Hill.

Mutinyco, you're absolutely right about the end-of-'98 curve, which not only included the magnificent Rushmore but Malick's The thin Red Line. By the way, I enjoyed your profile of Ellen Kuras in Filmmaker. I never really appreciated her until Eternal Sunshine, and now I suddenly love everything she does. One caveat, though - didn't Malik Hasssan Sayeed shoot He Got Game?


Posted by: Ghostboy at November 28, 2006 05:02 PM

i remember watching all those films at the theater: eyes wide shut, american beauty, blair witch project,the sixth sense and fight club.

at the time, i was momentarily persuaded by a friend that american beauty was a great film. but another friend of mine pointed out that american beauty was made to win an oscar. this other friend also said that the best films of the 90s included both eyes wide shut and fight club. seven years later, my other friend was right on both counts (namely, that american beauty was strived for greatness, whereas eyes wide shut and fight club are great)

Posted by: anon at November 28, 2006 09:11 PM

1999 was the year of the white man having a breakdown genre. I doubt we'll ever see a vast collection of guys going through a personal crisis ever again. I'm annoyed by every commercial movie released that year, Fight Club and The Matrix winning over that fortune cookie American Beauty because of the idiotic cults that followed them. Blah.

Posted by: Jeffery at November 28, 2006 11:10 PM

She actually DP'd the Chicago shoot for He Got Game. But it's a better regarded movie than Summer of Sam or Bamboozled. So, yeah, it's a call.

Posted by: mutinyco at November 28, 2006 11:41 PM

While I by no means think American Beauty is a perfect film I still think it's a good and effective film. Just because you've "outgrown" it doesn't make it any less exceptional in it's quality. To say it ends in a big warm fuzzy hug is a giant overstatement. Those splattered brains leave a lot of angst in its wake. Sure Spacey's character is all warm and fuzzy because he's dead and done with it, selfish in death as in life. However, the characters that live say a lot more, a widow, a girl with a dead father, an in the closet gay man who solved his temporary self-guilt with violence and will most likely continue his violent outburst and his son who will continue to deal with the pressure of his father. I mean none of the characters who live are really let off the hook except maybe Suvari's character who learns to like herself a bit more.

Sure, maybe if this film was made in the seventies he would of fucked the girl but it was made in the 90's. In those 20 years men have learned a few things about being a sleazy pig. I think the comparison is pointless and asinine.

It's not that I even really care that much about this film it's just that I feel there has to be some dissent to the idiotic cults of people who turn their backs on a film just because it wins an oscar or is embraced by the mainstream (I know Lowery enough to know this isn't his reasoning but most people I question). Just 'cos you can find an excuse to stop liking it (when most of you cleary did when you first watched it) doesn't mean it's no longer good.

Posted by: jmj at November 29, 2006 11:30 AM

What are you talking about? Men haven't learned a thing about being sleazy pigs!

In all seriousness, though, the comparison isn't asinine because it isn't one of cultural ideals and norms but of artistic intentions. Sure, we'll never have the 70s again, but just like '99, it's a handy point of comparison.

And regarding those characters who say a lot more - I'd agree with you, if they were actually characters. Instead we get a potentially great tragic figure (Chris Cooper) reduced to not one but two defining punchlines, a son who were he to stop spouting those cringe-worthy platitudes would evaporate into the thin air he mostly consists of, a daughter who -- well, okay, the daughter's enough of a blank page to be okay , but let's not get started on Annette Bening's over-the-top harpy of a wife. And mabye I'm being a bit over-the-top myself here, but my point is that all those open endings are, in fact, closed because there's nowhere for any of those characters to go at that point. They're all functions of a screenplay.

The sole exception: Wes Bentley's mother, in the scene where he says goodbye to her. It's probably the best scene in the film. Terribly sad, perfectly written and performed, and deeply suggestive.

So anyway. People do turn their backs on films because of mainstream success -- I've been guilty of doing it myself. (Poor Titanic - I turned on it so fast!) But generally speaking, when a film falls out of favor amongs people who care about film enough to actually think about it, it's not because those people are looking for an excuse to buck a trend. It's because they've found something in the film that they perceive to be legitimately problematic.

That doesn't mean that you can't still like the film (witness me and The Fountain). And like I said, I don't begrudge anyone who likes or loves American Beauty. I wish everyone would follow the trailer's advice and look closer, but that doesn't mean they'll all see what I see.

Posted by: Ghostboy at November 29, 2006 12:25 PM

The worst thing that ever happened to American Beauty was that it was successful. I saw it opening day, took it as a bleak Coens/Wilder satire (life is tiny, then you die), and told people to see it quickly cause it wouldn't make a dime.

Somehow, the public took the opposite meaning from it.

I think the movie would've been better off if it had gone the way I initially viewed it. Thematically, it was in synch with other movies that year. It was just a little more accessible. So now, people look at it as over-praised against more esoteric films from that year. Against its better being, it now has a reupation to live up to.

Posted by: mutinyco at November 29, 2006 01:48 PM

Um...reputation

Posted by: mutinyco at November 29, 2006 01:50 PM

Lovely piece, this. 1999 was a damn good year for movies, but to look back on it with a sense of melancholy is to put the lid on an era. Why? That way of thinking is an insult to the fine movies that are made today.

Posted by: Peet at November 29, 2006 03:55 PM

Dude, my 12 year old cousin totally got on my computer and wrote that post under my name. He just loves it 'cos you get to see titties in it.

Posted by: jmj at November 30, 2006 11:06 AM