Spectacular

I tend to think the Oscars usually get it wrong when it comes to Best Picture. It's not necessarily that my favorite film of the year doesn't get nominated (although that happens too). It's that invariably, given the choices of the nominated films, they never seem to pick my favorite of the batch for Best Picture.

For 1999, they bestowed the honor on American Beauty. It's one of my favorite movies ever. And yet, I feel like they still got it wrong that year. I liked The Sixth Sense even better. But seriously, how good a year was 1999 for movies? I mean, the Best Picture nominees also included The Cider House Rules and The Green Mile. (Well, and The Insider. But nobody's perfect.)

The thing is, not everyone loves American Beauty. At least one of my friends hates it with a passionate fury. Premiere magazine put it on their list of the Most Overrated Films. So needless to say, when I really set out to rebuild my top 100 list, watching this movie again to know just where to place it was a high priority.

My enthusiasm hasn't waned. American Beauty is still a triumph of a script from Alan Ball. He wrote this before Six Feet Under would further plumb the depths of domestic longing -- and long before he'd blend drama with camp on True Blood. His work here is nuanced and multi-faceted. There are half a dozen characters with meaningful story arcs in the film. What you get out of watching the film, what message you perceive, will surely depend on which characters you most identify with.

There's Lester Burnham, a worker drone father, utterly dissatisfied with his life, who finally decides to take charge and pursue joy. Is this a rallying call to change your life? Or are you saddened at the other people harmed by his selfish actions?

What about his wife Carolyn, a woman so consumed by putting on the appearance of success and happiness that she literally attacks herself when her armor shows any sign off cracking. Do you feel sorry for her? Or do you condemn her for ultimately cheating on her marriage?

Take their daughter Jane, a typically disaffected teenager who finds a kindred spirit in the new neighbor boy. Are you happy that she's embracing the one thing to finally bring happiness to her life? Or are you sad that she impulsively risks her future on a guy she's just met?

And what about that boy, Ricky, the young man tortured both by his admiration of beauty in the world and his dictatorial father? Is he a sympathetic soul for enduring the beatings by his father, yet remaining able to see the beauty in life? Or is the fact that he's a drug dealer who might be ruining a young girl's life unforgivable?

What about Jane's friend, Angela? Is she pitiable for having crafted this iron persona that she now struggles to live up to? Or is she a spoiled, stuck-up cheerleader who must now lay in the the bed she's made?

How about Ricky's military father, Frank? He beats his son and has possibly traumatized his wife to the point that she barely speaks. And yet he's also carrying around a secret, the burden of which has piled up to unimaginable proportions.

Add to these principal figures several other entertaining characters to even more fully flesh out the world of this film -- uber-driven real estate tycoon Buddy Kane, and painfully introverted housewife Barbara. Or the most blandly normal couple in the neighborhood, gay partners Jim and Jim.

For such a carefully constructed tapestry alone, I would love this movie. But that's only the tip of the iceberg. Sam Mendes makes his directorial debut here, and the compositions of his shots are impeccable. Every image is carefully framed to suggest thematic echoes, establish character relationships, suggest inner monologue, and more. Few established directors are so precise.

There's an amazing musical score by Thomas Newman. At times, it's wonderfully discordant, gently tear-jerking, or loud and playful. It's a perfectly supportive effort, and stands well on its own too.

And then, of course, there's the amazing cast. Kevin Spacey is a bright star, perfectly inhabiting his character at every stage of his transformation. But don't overlook the rest of them. Annette Bening makes you laugh in one scene and cry in in the next. Chris Cooper makes you fear and hate the same character you feel pity for later in the film. Thora Birch, Wes Bentley, and Mena Suvari all bring wonderful nuance and maturity to their teenage characters. And then there's Allison Janney, Peter Gallagher, Scott Bakula, Sam Robards -- each adding the perfect spice to this perfect meal.

So I can't truly fault the Academy's Best Picture choice here. When I say I liked The Sixth Sense better, it's by only the slimmest of margins. By the time I'm this high up on my Top Movie list, I really have to grasp at tiny reasons to rank one above another. American Beauty is a rock solid, grade A movie. Or, as main character Lester Burham says himself: "Spec... tacular."