I've watched a lot of movies in the past 5 years that attempt to bring historical revisionism to life. Some have been pretty thought provoking. I've watched many other movies that try to keep an accurate accounting of forgotten history alive over my lifetime. As the credits roll you come away with a sense of having learned a new appreciation for a hidden chapter along the road to here. But I have never quite seen such a poorly conceived story as "Suburbicon", where the inter-racial tensions just shy of lynching are casually paraded and escalated in the background. This framework is a ruse to avoid subjecting a ridiculously fabricated account of New Jersey suburban race relations to include open mob violence targeting a single family for nothing more than living there to scrutiny. The reels roll from a plausible town meeting where the whites discuss fences, to a ridiculously stupid conclusion where the black residents are being blamed by Mrs. Stupid Fat White Septuagenarian for an auto accident.
Meanwhile, in the foreground, we get a story aobut The Talented Mr. Rippley all grown up. Now instead of being a charismatic genius able to further his sociopathic and psychopathic goals, he has been lowered to the level of Jerry Lundegaard, sans the slimy patheticness that William H. Macey pulled off so expertly. Mr. Rippley now plays opposite a pair of discount brand-x knock off villains standing in for Peter Stormare and Steve Buscemi. Other than looking something Italian, and without a Columbo-esque pregnant detective to hunt them down in a beautiful case of role reversal, these villians never quite reach the level of funny stupid that could have saved the film. Nor does Mr. Damon ever reach beyond his recent assortment of Fedor and tie wearing personas from the Cold War to give us a character to either love or despise. We would just like to erase him from the film, and, I suspect the goal of the writers is to inspire us to simply erase his kind from the world as well as the history books.
In place of a hero we can cheer for, we get a little white boy, not particularly bright, not particularly interesting. He moons around and acts like a good victim. At one point he nails the door to his bedroom shut. Otherwise he is for all intents and purposes a walking catatonic... just like good sheeple should be.
Do yourself a favor and watch this film. Use it to take stock of the Kool-aid Hollywood has been trying to peddle to American audiences.
Meanwhile, in the foreground, we get a story aobut The Talented Mr. Rippley all grown up. Now instead of being a charismatic genius able to further his sociopathic and psychopathic goals, he has been lowered to the level of Jerry Lundegaard, sans the slimy patheticness that William H. Macey pulled off so expertly. Mr. Rippley now plays opposite a pair of discount brand-x knock off villains standing in for Peter Stormare and Steve Buscemi. Other than looking something Italian, and without a Columbo-esque pregnant detective to hunt them down in a beautiful case of role reversal, these villians never quite reach the level of funny stupid that could have saved the film. Nor does Mr. Damon ever reach beyond his recent assortment of Fedor and tie wearing personas from the Cold War to give us a character to either love or despise. We would just like to erase him from the film, and, I suspect the goal of the writers is to inspire us to simply erase his kind from the world as well as the history books.
In place of a hero we can cheer for, we get a little white boy, not particularly bright, not particularly interesting. He moons around and acts like a good victim. At one point he nails the door to his bedroom shut. Otherwise he is for all intents and purposes a walking catatonic... just like good sheeple should be.
Do yourself a favor and watch this film. Use it to take stock of the Kool-aid Hollywood has been trying to peddle to American audiences.