In Philip Roth’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel, American Pastoral, the storyline drips with tense tragedy. As the pages turn and the story unravels, the anarchistic string of revolution contrasts sharply with the protagonist’s lack of control within his own life and his family’s. The central plot manufactures disgust, wonder, and intrigue in regards to the 1967 Newark riots, but it also materializes a sympathetic urge to aid a family wrongfully trapped within the convergence of two cultures.
Ewan McGregor’s film adaptation of Roth’s novel, also his directorial debut, attempts to manifest this same bombastic tragedy, yet it instead only produces a shallow melodrama that perpetually skewers itself with terse dialogue and flaky plot. The characteristics that allowed Roth’s novel to be widely praised seem all but lost among an attempt to encapsulate the climactic consequences of rebellion.
The central plot focuses on a Newark family. One featuring a high school hero turned glove company emperor, Seymour Levov (Ewan McGregor), a former New Jersey Beauty “Queen”, Dawn Levov (Jennifer Connolly), and their recalcitrant, stuttering daughter, Merry Levov (Dakota Fanning). Seymour, or as commonly referred to as “Swede”, attempts to establish his ideal image of an American family in the nearby countryside. And at first he succeeds.
Then his daughter discovers her self-proclaimed destiny. A destiny that contains an utter disdain for her mother and a loathing hate for all things “Vietnam War”. Sixteen years old, armed with radical ideology, and fed insurgent propaganda, Merry becomes utterly uncouth and blunt around everyone she comes in contact with. The majority of the film is undercut by Merry’s speech impediment, an impediment that some doubt as “real” or simply a facade to generate favor and attention. Regardless, her stutter serves as her defining feature, an identifiable difference that automatically sets her apart and gives her an unique edge. It becomes slightly comical that the film’s most radically laden character stumbles over her words, fracturing her thoughts. The way her words crumble out of her mouth elevate the numbing shock of her curses against the current state of affairs.
Upon discovering the Vietnam War’s crisis, Merry becomes politically charged and hellbent on making a difference. Meanwhile, the Swede notices Merry’s increasingly defiant decisions. Sensing the downward spiral of his consciously crafted family, he attempts to embody the loving father and husband that will bring his family closer together.
Considering the current political climate of our day, American Pastoral’s adaptation could have hardly come at a more relevant time. The litany of police brutality reports, unarmed assaults, and uncontrolled riots grossly highlight the political unrest this country currently contains. However, while the film does fixate upon the inspiring nature of rebellion and the sometimes unexpected and unforeseen ramifications, the primary problem McGregor seems to address is the problem perhaps at the root of revolt: parenting.
In the midst of a heated argument, Merry crudely cries, “revolutions don’t begin in the countryside.” McGregor hints at the reality that large groups of people often don’t wake up one day and decide to revolt, instead it’s a decision drawn out over time, followed by similar decisions that ultimately lead to a conjoined agreement of mutiny. Does Merry snidely suggest that revolutions in fact begin in the household? Do revolutions take form as a result of isolated incidents of “fed up” teens multiply and produce large scale revolutions? Merry, Ben Franklin, and Ghandi might agree about the household part, simply the gathering in a household to hash out ideas. But the greater issue revolves around the responsibility that comes with parenting.
Throughout the film and as McGregor assumes his duty as a father, he grapples with the internal question: “does a parent adopt his or her child’s beliefs at the expense of losing their own?” Or further still, does a parent force his or her child to adopt their own beliefs? Aided with antiquated views of how to handle insurgency and a lack of knowledge regarding his daughter’s life, McGregor struggles to exhibit the guidance and control that he believes a father must encompass.
As the film progresses and finally reaches its resolution, the desired lasting image of rebellion and societal change that was so evident within Roth’s novel disappears amidst a daughter’s prodigal son fulfillment. Instead, the failed Levov family, and primarily McGregor’s loss, dominates the entire frame. In terms of McGregor’s uncannily unpredictable career, his directorial debut, at times, showcases his soothing touch. But his tranquilizing tone only gets lost among the film’s muddled, brute force.
When placed next to the current political unrest and subsequent protest, American Pastoral should strike a chord in the hearts of the middle class demographic that it features. Yet it too often relies on cheap cliches and blunt catch phrases (“it’s not a revolt, it’s a revolution”) that the film collapses into mindless melodrama. While it is encouraging that McGregor adapted a relevant, tense story, his mangled delivery and familial fixation limit the film’s ability to be relevant.
