The middle-aged man trying to reconnect with his youth by going after the pubescent girl. That is such uncomfortable territory. For a lot of men, because, to some greater or lesser extent, we see a bit of Lester in ourselves, even if we’re mature enough to never act on such an impulse. For a lot of women because they remember with fondness being that young and free and attractive, and discovering for the first time the power inherent in their budding sexuality, and they miss that.

This particular April/August type of connection (romantic, sexual, predatory) has become such a hot button in our culture. In some other cultures, such connections are de regeur and often end in marriage. In our culture, it’s more often (mis?)judged as creepy. The actual or perceived line-crossing of celebrities such as Roman Polanski and Woody Allen – the latter’s marriage is still going strong after two decades now – only adds to the controversy.

In the case of American Beauty, Carson’s correct in his assertions that the use of humor, Lester’s desire to reconnect with his youth, and Angela’s pursuit of Lester all make this potentially sordid situation far more understandable. The key moment, however, is Lester’s moment of redemption – the moment when he CAN have Angela but DOESN’T. It is a testimony to the brilliance of Alan Ball and Sam Mendes that the audience does not know which way Lester’s going to go. Remember at that moment we still know Lester’s dead, but we still don’t know how he dies, who kills him, or why. Lester’s decision not to take Angela is the climax of the film. In a sense, his shooting is almost an afterthought.

Alan Ball’s incredible balancing act in dealing with this theme in particular makes American Beauty work. Even at that, however, I have discovered in speaking about and championing this film that not everyone agrees. Some find the subject matter repulsive; others I think simply avoid the material because it so effectively hits so close to home. This to me is what makes the screenplay, and the film, a work of art. There’s deep and uncomfortable truth in it. And that’s something a lot of filmmakers don’t dare touch.

I want to see this movie.

Problems/observations/snarks about wanting to see this movie:

1. I swear I’m not gay
2. This smells like a Caucasian/Zen version of How Stella Got her Groove Back
3. Who’s Julia Roberts again?
4. Seriously. Not gay
5. Richard Jenkins is biologically incapable of sucking on any screen, large or small
6. The filmmakers swapped out the Magical Negro in favor of the magical Indian (dot) dude
7. After going back and forth between Scarlett Johannson and Penelope Cruz for Woody Allen, Javier Bardem’s definitely slumming it here (IOW, Julia Roberts, while charming, doesn’t just doesn’t register that way)
8. I believe my note in #7 is adequate reiteration that I am in fact not gay
9. Obligatory African-American best friend (at least she’s not magical)
10. Suspicious aura of cheesy pop spirituality AND pop multiculturalism
11. I can only hope there’s at least one scene in which Bardem calls someone “friendo”

Hmm. I may have just successfully talked myself out of seeing this – well, short of using it as a date movie.