I think April’s problem is not that she can’t be in Paris, but that she lives where she is utterly trapped by her gender in society’s (and nature’s, you might say) expectations, and that she can see that her husband is in the same situation. They are both very childish, with no trace of wisdom (of course they are just 30 years old).

Finally, April is a very strong woman, but she meets the fate of many strong women in movies (Thelma and Louise being the classic case) - she must be killed before the end of the movie.

Highly disappointing indeed.

It also occurred to me that these uninspired people are who created the society we have now - omnipresent advertising and overconsumption. It had to lead to financial and environmental destruction. Ours is a world created by people who (as some other reviewer put it) are too scared to take a critical look at who they are because they worry they will find there’s really nobody there.

Two thumbs down.

Another problem is one of balance. There is very little relief in the pacing of the grim tale. That’s just poor cinema-craft.

Almost all the technical details, the production values, were excellent. One may argue items of taste, but not quality. It is a high quality film, but in service of what? And the point is … ?

Do we need to hear again that suburbia failed to transform human nature as promised? It was the promise that was faulty, not the architectural details.

Ah well. The film must be a comfort to the dwindling ranks of those invested in the world view called modern. Others have moved on.

I don’t mean to nit pick here, especially since is such a well thought out review, not that I’m expecting anything less, but i noticed the following grammar errors:

In the middle of the third paragraph:
“Mendes, on the other hand, as if feeling insecure about his undeserved Oscar and afraid that I’ll be take away, lunges for the Hollywood cliche” — shouldn’t it be: “…and afraid that It’ll be taken away…”, if referring to the Oscar? or something, “I’ll be take away” is funky nonetheless, unless it was on purpose and I’m missing the point.

Also, in the middle of fourth paragraph:

“…but because it’s possible that nobody deserves to held under such unrelentingly vicious scrutiny. ” — missing the “be” before held, or maybe it should be changed to “hold”.

I KNOW!! sorry to be a buzz kill, AMAZING REVIEW, seriously.

Don’t think I agree with all of your assessments of the book, like uhh with John Givings I always thought Yates intended him to be taken as “the smartest guy in the room” as well.. and he seems to confirm this in the interview here: http://www.pshares.org/issues/article.cfm?prmArticleID=128

Def. agree too much of Yates’ meat is missing though, esp. with Frank Wheeler who’s almost like a blank slate in the film.. in some scenes like the fight when Frank first discovers her plan to deal with the baby, I couldn’t even fathom what viewers would make of it without knowing all the missing subtext from the book.. his own disdain for their children, his manipulative instincts that are behind the “you need a shrink” stuff, etc. etc.

But I guess taken on its own terms it’s not a bad film at all, and considering that it’s a Hollywood vehicle for the stars of Titanic it does retain a surprising amount of Yates’ spirit (dispirit?).

For me, the film was deeply disappointing due to Mendes’ lack of engagement with cinema’s ability to interact and speak with other films and not necessarily with Yates’ novel alone. Touted as a timely re-alignment of the Stars (Kate & Leo), there was never even a hint of allusion to Titanic: no Irish jig, no steamy car sex (well, there’s intercourse in a vehicle, but none of Cameron’s campy touch), and no art-student rendering of nude model (even Leo’s cartoon diagram of capitalism on a napkin is a stretch in RR). In a way, if there are fans of the film’s literary source material, then there are also fans of its actors’ larger-than-a-single-role persona, and that happens to be something strangely unique to film’s network of associations.

In the case of Winslet, she could be this year’s “Woman on Wire,” balancing her incredible screen vitality with plasticine restraint and tasteful composure demanded by her dual projects, RR and The Reader. If only Todd Fields could tackle both projects and ignite her flame once again as he did for Little Children, but then again, this year’s Oscar crop owes more to performance-oriented “recording” than any directorial flair for storytelling, and Fincher’s Love in the Time of Diarrheic Pastiche is sadly not an exception.