Levittown-style suburban sprawl, post-war nuclear family utopianism and the dark side of oblivious slice-of-life Americana; this much you know is being satirized in Suburbicon, director George Clooney's latest film. The trailer makes it look like a cathartic black comedy straight from the mind of Ira Levin. A movie whose plot pops and sizzles with the beat of DJ Shadow's "Nobody Speak". Yet Clooney, along with co-writers Grant Heslov and the Coen Brothers have pulled a pretty massive bait-and-switch here. Suburbicon isn't some zany misadventure through the clutter free streets of Caramel, IN. Instead it is a messy, sleazy and surprisingly old-school crime thriller where the characters dare to be unlikable and the comedy only hums in the background.
After developing the mis en scene, Suburbicon's plot begins when a sudden home invasion rattles a middle-class family out of their beds in the dead of night. When the ordeal is done, the wheelchair bound matron of the home (Moore) has died and Nicky (Jupe), the resident pre-teen begins to suspect there's something more to his mother's death than just bad luck. Meanwhile Gardner (Damon), Nicky's father finds himself overwhelmed when Aunt Margaret (also Moore) comes to stay all while the police and the insurance company start sniffing around.
It'd be impossible to go into further detail concerning the various positives and negatives of the plot without it constituting spoilers (this being a crime thriller after all). So I'll just say that those who had their interest piqued by the trailer will be getting sushi when the expectation is prime rib. I will also say that part of the reason why audiences and critics have their knickers in a twist about this movie is because large swaths of said movie progress with us, the audience knowing about as much as the interminably passive Nicky.
If this was more fully a Coen joint, that air of mystery could have yielded some interesting dividends but since George Clooney is at the helm, the best we can hope for is even-handed pacing, even-handed cinematography, even-handed editing etc. That basic tension between the brio of the Coens and the sensibilities of the Clooney/Heslov partnership regrettably prevents Suburbicon from being anything more than the sum of its parts. Some scenes work when viewed through the mercurial lens of subtle changes in power dynamics. While others work as fairly obvious if impassioned political broadsides. Some scenes are puzzles, others sermons. Most work, but not strung together.
Throughout the film there's a subplot involving the only black family in the neighborhood being constantly harassed by their white neighbors. On their own, or under better management, these scenes could have verged on the side of poignant. But because they're so overshadowed thematically via the crime plot, they basically become tagged on social statements. This in itself wouldn't have been such a problem (I mean, remember when we actually liked movies like The Help (2011)) but the visuals strongly suggest there's supposed to be more there than just scapegoating 101.
What ultimately saves the beautiful mess that is Suburbicon (other than plot which again I can't discuss) is the shear passion found throughout its production. Much like the plot, the art direction is a purposefully garish pastiche. The dark wooden paneling, lead-lined kitchen appliances and aluminum coffee presses serve to cement the story in a time, place and a specific, uneasy psychology. The acting all-around is superb with Oscar Isaacs threatening to steal the show as an unscrupulous insurance investigator. Even the young Noah Jupe proves memorable though, again because his whole arc is going from passivity to activity he's not given enough to really do until the third act.
Given how many good ideas, solid performances and requisite passions that are evident in this film, it's a shame Suburbicon isn't better than it is. If it were possible, I'd like to visit a parallel universe where the Coen Brothers directed this film, then visit another where Clooney and Heslov cooked up this thing from the stock on up. In this universe however it's clear all four men are in the kitchen, what's not clear is who the chef is.
After developing the mis en scene, Suburbicon's plot begins when a sudden home invasion rattles a middle-class family out of their beds in the dead of night. When the ordeal is done, the wheelchair bound matron of the home (Moore) has died and Nicky (Jupe), the resident pre-teen begins to suspect there's something more to his mother's death than just bad luck. Meanwhile Gardner (Damon), Nicky's father finds himself overwhelmed when Aunt Margaret (also Moore) comes to stay all while the police and the insurance company start sniffing around.
It'd be impossible to go into further detail concerning the various positives and negatives of the plot without it constituting spoilers (this being a crime thriller after all). So I'll just say that those who had their interest piqued by the trailer will be getting sushi when the expectation is prime rib. I will also say that part of the reason why audiences and critics have their knickers in a twist about this movie is because large swaths of said movie progress with us, the audience knowing about as much as the interminably passive Nicky.
If this was more fully a Coen joint, that air of mystery could have yielded some interesting dividends but since George Clooney is at the helm, the best we can hope for is even-handed pacing, even-handed cinematography, even-handed editing etc. That basic tension between the brio of the Coens and the sensibilities of the Clooney/Heslov partnership regrettably prevents Suburbicon from being anything more than the sum of its parts. Some scenes work when viewed through the mercurial lens of subtle changes in power dynamics. While others work as fairly obvious if impassioned political broadsides. Some scenes are puzzles, others sermons. Most work, but not strung together.
Throughout the film there's a subplot involving the only black family in the neighborhood being constantly harassed by their white neighbors. On their own, or under better management, these scenes could have verged on the side of poignant. But because they're so overshadowed thematically via the crime plot, they basically become tagged on social statements. This in itself wouldn't have been such a problem (I mean, remember when we actually liked movies like The Help (2011)) but the visuals strongly suggest there's supposed to be more there than just scapegoating 101.
What ultimately saves the beautiful mess that is Suburbicon (other than plot which again I can't discuss) is the shear passion found throughout its production. Much like the plot, the art direction is a purposefully garish pastiche. The dark wooden paneling, lead-lined kitchen appliances and aluminum coffee presses serve to cement the story in a time, place and a specific, uneasy psychology. The acting all-around is superb with Oscar Isaacs threatening to steal the show as an unscrupulous insurance investigator. Even the young Noah Jupe proves memorable though, again because his whole arc is going from passivity to activity he's not given enough to really do until the third act.
Given how many good ideas, solid performances and requisite passions that are evident in this film, it's a shame Suburbicon isn't better than it is. If it were possible, I'd like to visit a parallel universe where the Coen Brothers directed this film, then visit another where Clooney and Heslov cooked up this thing from the stock on up. In this universe however it's clear all four men are in the kitchen, what's not clear is who the chef is.