“a narrative [is] a chain of events in cause-effect relationship occurring in time and space… Typically, [it] begins with one situation; a series of changes occurs according to a pattern of cause and effect; finally, a new situation arises that brings about the end of the narrative.” (Bordwell 90) This is an extension of David Bordwell’s defintion of classical narrative cinema in which he refers to the necessary cause-effect relationships that form a well-rounded screenplay. It is a particularly fitting definition for discussing the analysis of Sam Mendes’ American Beauty, a film that uses tradtional Hollywood structure while masking the the formula it is hidden under.
Screenplays are written in three acts. Act One is the set-up, or exposition, in which characters are introdeuced and the premise of the film makes itself clear. The opening voice-over and montage quickly introduces the secretly resentful Lester Burnham, his wife, Carolyn, and her disturbing affinity for perfection, and jane, the daughter filed with insecurity. Lester’s wistful remarks suggest disdain for the American dream that landed him in his apathetic nightmare. Folowing this, Act One reveals two critical points: the catalyst and the inciting incident.
The catalyst is an event that disrupts the balance of the central character by giving him a reason that things must change. This occurs when Bread, the “efficiency expert,” informs Lester that he needs to save his job. This causes Lester to question his validity in life. Soon after, the inciting incident will cause him to take action.
The inciting incident changes the protagonist’s life in a big way. Fantasies of a a nubile Angela provoke Lester to return to his adolescent ideals and this return not only disrupts his own life, but also of those around him. Inadvertently he creates a gap between himself and Jane as well as with his wife; furthermore, this adolescent renascence also affects the already fragile friendship between Jane and Angela. Thus the effects of his fantasies and behavior are far-ranging and produce antagonisms from all sides. “I feel like I’ve been in a coma for twenty years,” he tells the spectator, “am I am just now waking up.”
Act One has supplied characters and unleashed Lester’s goal. He is attempting to reclaim his life by regaining the (the lack of) knowledge and wisdom, by regaining the callowness of his youth–a time when he firmly recalls happiness in lieu of his current sedation. (Typically the character’s major goal should be confined to something tangible; however, his desire to land Angela in bed is fueled by his reclamation of life and therefore I consider it to be more of a short-term goal than a major one.) His method of obtaining this one broad desire lies in his several short-term goals. These short-term goals are the fillers of Act Two and have their own case-effect relationships that add to the conflicts that arise.
Act Two is divided in halves creating the 1) the complicating action and 2) the developing action. Separating the two halves lies the turning point, also referred to as the pinch. In discussing Act Two, it is mandatory to recognizethe point-of-view the film taks. Lester is the central character, but in no way does that subjectivize the story to his internal monologues; rather the film does not limit its omniscience–the audience knows a great deal more than Lester at any given time. “Classical cinema tends to put narration on the unrestricted end of the scale [of perceptual or mental subjectivity]. Even if we follow a single character, there are protions of the film giving us access to things the character does not see, hear, or know.” (Bordwell 109) The lack of limitations in point-of-view gives the film a larger context–that is, although Lester is the central character he is not a conventional protagonist. He has no defined nemesis; the characters are opposed by him and the pursuit of his goals, however no one directly opposes him. They may make their onjections clear, but Lester is running his own show and there is no stopping him until the final shot of the gun.
In effect, Beauty uses two effective tools to establish a narrative thread of point-of-view that underlies the film: 1) the use of voice-over from a “beyond-the-grave” cntral character, and 2) the use of a subdued murder mystery and its significance in creating a universe in which characters are put at odds with each other, especially in those relationships concerning Lester. (The second of these tools is only midly apparent and it cannot be denied that the film does not focus much on Lester’s death until the third act, however, foreshadowing and characterization does not bring this tool into view).>
Cause and effect is particularly useful in the events of the complicating action. Smoking a joint with Ricky Fitts leads to the purchase of more drugs which leads to oppostion from Carolyn, and as is later discussed, the circumstances of his demise. Carolyn’s ambition of success is stunted by Lester and so she seeks solace in the arms of the “Real Estate King.” Jane and Ricky’s viewing of the Nazi plate lands Ricky in a violent confrontation with his father. Angela’s admission of her attraction to Lester motivates him to shape up; this decision finds him running with the Jims which ultimately evokes suspicion from Colonel Fitts. Fantasies of Angela arouse a sexual awakening in Lester–it also wins him a small bedside victory with Carolyn. Finally, extorting money ends his professional life and allows him to pursue a job “with the least amount of responsibilty possible.” In short, the complicating action rises the stakes and sets the central character up for impending victory or doom.
The turning point occurs when the central character takes even stronger actions that threaten to compromise his values. In addition it separates the complicating and developing actions. As lester repeatedly asks for the asparagus he finds himself in transition. This is the moment when Lester asserts his free will and decides not to tolerate being a prisoner of Carolyn’s need for perfection. Consequently he loses his wife to her gun and breaks any connection he had left with his daughter.
Furthermore, the developing action forms deeper relationships and destroys or weakens others. It also establishes the set-up for the climax. This section of the film is the point of no return, the time when all hope seems lost–it raises the stakes even more.
“Most patterns of plot development depend heavily upon the ways that causes and effects create a change in a character’s situation.” (bordwell 99) Following Lester’s dinner time stance, Carolyn slaps Jane because she is a deathly determined less-than-a-mother so obsessed with appearances and demeanor rhat it seems she has actually forgotten what it is like to be human; the few times she shows any real emotion is when her “projection of success” comes crumbling down around her. Her anger at Lester and subsequent reaction to Jane is further proof that Lester’s antics have deepened the turmoil of the family’s life; thus, Lester is responsible for this degradation. Jane responds to her father–and mother–by unveiling herself to Ricky. Her nudity works as a metaphor, for finally she has accepted herself; she reveals more than her body, she also reveals her soul. Her father, subsequently, has forced her to grow up and move on.
More short-term goals arise for Lester. He buys a 1970 Pontiac Firebird, the vehicle of his adolescent dreams. He attempts to rekindle a romantic spark with Carolyn, reminiscing about who they used to be; but she has changed and as he recognizes the certainty that she will never again be the Carolyn he loved, he resolves to let go of her good. Later, when her infidelity is exposed, Lester remains jubilant; Carolyn is crushed.
Colonel Fitts emerges as a prominent figure at the end of Act Two. He has exhibited violence, remorse, and a homophobic attitude. His presence will have an important in Act Three.
Act Three is home to the climax and has four major points: the crisis, the realization, showdown, and denouement. Act Three induces collision. Everything will come crashing into each other to battle for resolution. It begins as Lester runs out of pot and and calls Ricky for a refill. The Colonel stumbles upon a couple of ambiguous things that he interprets incorrectly. Cause and effect still have resonance during the climax, for the Colonel’s interpretation leads to his son’s abandonment and then, to the crisis.
The crisis is the point where all hope seems lost and the protagonist needs to make a crucial decision. When the Colonel approaches Lester in the garage, although Lester does not know it, it sets up the begininng of his end. His rejection fuels the Colonel and gives him a mixed motive for the murder he is about to commit. In effect, the climatic danger does not instill fear or desperation in Lester, omly curiosity for the Colonel’s odd behavior.
Meanwhile Carolyn “refuses to be a victim” and clutches her gun as she realizes her dream has faded. Jane searches for a new dream deciding to leave town with Ricky and as a result, Angela is forced to come to terms with her “ordinary” nature. The nuance behind the script is fascinating. Alan Ball has written a story in which the central character provoked changes and transformations in the people om his life and not just in his own. These small events serve a profound purpose because he provoks them so astutely that many wished he had not lived at all–only to find themselves shocked when they discover he is gone. Again, the climax is all about collision, bringing the loose ends together to form one interconnected story.
The realization is a pivotal moment of awareness when the protagonist gains knowledge of himself and changes. Lester is not a Nabokov creation plagued by a Lolita complex. he is, indeed, only human. He doesn’t view Angela as the child she is; she is something of a paradox–an icon of youth who is at once tangible, yet strangely untouchable. In that moment when Lester grows up he finds she has not and will not for quite awhile. He realizes although he misses his own youth he cannot extract hers away. He finds a fractured contentment in this revelation. F. Scott Fitzgerald says it best in This Side of Paradise: “I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it again.”
The showdown shortly follows. It is the final chance for defeat or victory. Strangely enough, Lester doesn’t even know that and with the squeeze of a trigger, all is gone. He is neither victorious nor defeated. He dies with a new found happiness which is ultimately what he desired since page one.
Finally, the denouement ties the loos ends. We see the Colonel in a blood-soaked shirt and the reactions of the other characters to Lester’s death. But American Beauty does not end in full resolution; that would be superfluous. The film is about Lester and his search for happiness; the other characters become irrelevent when his reality has ended and only hold meaning in the recollections of his “stupid little life.” The irony is that happiness and/or beauty lies everywhere; it is hidden in the harsh realities that overcome us–lying on the grass watching falling stars, cousin Tony’s brand new 1970 Pontiac Firebird, and Grandma’s hands that seemed like paper. As Lester lingers on thoughts of Jane and Carolyn, the film ties the only loose ends it needs to and comes to its denouement: a commentary on the perils of mortality–that unsatisfaction and failures blur the edges of happiness into certain unhappiness–and that, in death, the morose and mundane become righteously obsolete.
Cause-effect relationships shape this story around a traditional Hollywood formula. It somewhat works like the theory of fate. That is to say, suppose Lester didn’t need pot the night he was killed–would the Colonel still have his motive intact? Similar questions could be asked of other circumstances, but the point would be lost. American Beauty plays much the same way in which life does: when something happens, something else must be affected. Cause and effect is a balance of nature and of life.
Works Cited
Bordwell, David and Kristin Thompson. Film Art: An Introduction. 5th ed. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1997.
