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It’s tempting to dismiss George Clooney’s “Suburbicon” as a collection of two films that never quite come together to form a cohesive whole, which is only partially correct. However, this could give the impression that either film can stand on its own, which is not the case. When it comes to tonal disaster, this startling misfire is a tonal disaster from start to finish, whether it is set in the dark comedy that retains elements of the Coen brothers’ original script, or in the more earnestly inspirational true story of a black family who is forced to leave white America. Except for a brief moment when Oscar Isaac appears to be floating in mid-air, the drab “Suburbicon” is devoid of witty dialogue, interesting characters, or even visual flourishes, despite the presence of Isaac. It is as level as the perfectly manicured lawns in the idyllic neighborhood that gives it its name. It is a flat surface.
There are two stories that compete for screen time but never really intertwine in the script by George Clooney and Grant Heslov, who developed a script that was also still credited to Joel and Ethan Coen, so we’ll deal with them separately for the time being. In the one that is most likely to conjure up images of recent events in Charlottesville and elsewhere, a black family moves into the formerly all-white Suburbicon and is met with hostility right out of the gate. This half of the film, which is based on the true story of what happened to William (Leith M. Burke) and Daisy Meyers (Karimah Westbrook) in Levittown in August 1957, feels like a sloppy manipulation of the material. Despite the fact that we never get to know William—I’m not sure he even has a line—we see Daisy being told that milk costs $20 at the local store, as well as the entire family being harassed by mobs outside their home every night of the week. As the film progresses, the mobs become louder and more violent, leading to the tragic conclusion that was inevitable.
While the Meyers’ family is being targeted solely because of the color of their skin, a different kind of evil is taking place in the white house next door, where the president is staying. This must be Clooney’s point, after all: that murderous white people are getting away with it while communities are blinded by racist rage. But it doesn’t seem like enough of a foundation on which to build a film’s thematic framework. Meanwhile, Gardner Lodge (Matt Damon) is witnessing his family being torn apart while the Meyers are simply trying to live the lives promised to them in the Suburbicon brochure. The Lodge house is broken into by two men (Glenn Fleshler and Alex Hassell), who chloroform the entire family, including Gardner’s wife (Julianne Moore) and son Nicky, on an ordinary night (Noah Jupe). Mrs. Lodge passes away, but her twin sister Margaret takes her place in the family unit very quickly (also Julianne Moore, of course). A strange thing is going on in this place, and Nicky has a feeling something strange is going on. The killers come by Gardner’s office with demands, and Oscar Isaac appears after about an hour as a suspicious insurance investigator.
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One can clearly distinguish between the Coen film and the Clooney/Heslov film, and one can see the seeds of what could become a black noir Coen comedy with a sense of humor along the lines of “Fargo” and “Burn After Reading.” That kind of comedy is difficult to pull off tonally, and Clooney, the director, lacks the rhythm necessary to pull it off successfully. “Suburbicon” is shockingly unfunny, owing primarily to the leaden, shapeless direction of it all, as well as Damon and Moore’s performances, which never seem to find a tone or a character. They have no life in them. Is it possible that this was done on purpose? As a satirical commentary on drab, white middle-class America? That is a possibility, but it is not entertaining in the least. Only Isaac (and, to a lesser extent, Fleshler) have any remaining energy. It appears as though he has just walked off the set of a better, funnier, and more interesting film.
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Another aspect of the tonal problem in this film is the presence of deeply unlikable characters, which the Coens excel at but which other directors, including collaborators of theirs, have difficulty managing. Gardner Lodge isn’t a particularly memorable anti-hero; he’s more or less just a creepy creep. Clooney and Heslov attempt to tell the story through the eyes of Nicky, almost as if they recognize the flaw in their approach. However, this approach falls short as well. This is the story of a young boy who discovers that his parents aren’t perfect and that all of his neighbors are violent racists as he grows up. That’s a difficult premise for a movie to work with if there isn’t any humor or interesting characters to keep the film entertaining. Furthermore, it is impossible to achieve a harmonious balance in terms of tonalities. Because of this, “Suburbicon” is a comedy with almost no laughs and a drama with little substance.
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Visually, the film begins to grate with an overdone score by Alexandre Desplat and design elements that fetishize 1950s America in an incomplete way, leaving the film stranded between parody and realism, as well as between parody and realism. Even the great Robert Elswit’s work here appears to be lacking in inspiration. Of course, it all boils down to the flaws of a director who is unable to determine what story he is attempting to convey or how to tell it in an interesting manner. Not only does “Suburbicon” tell two stories that never come together into a cohesive whole, but it also doesn’t tell any interesting stories at all.
About the quiz
This review was originally published on September 13th, 2017 as part of the Toronto International Film Festival.Also, you must try to play this Suburbicon quiz.
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