`Virgin Suicides' captures the contradictions of adolescence
By LIAM DACEY
Scene Movie Critic
Anyone who has tried to recommend "The Virgin Suicides" to a friend has come across the difficult task of finding the words to describe it. It most cases, the friend will take a look at the cover and put it back on the shelf. After all, many moviegoers find it risky to watch an independent film that separates itself from classical Hollywood conventions. This is understandable, that's the way the system is meant to work.
Sometimes a few excellent films get lost in the shuffle, however. These independent films challenge the norm and leave the viewer actually thinking about what they saw after the film ends. Sofia Coppola's "The Virgin Suicides" is a superb example of this type of film.
In her directing debut, Coppola tells the story of the Lisbon girls, who grow up in a stereotypical suburban neighborhood (Gross Point, Michigan) in the 1970s (the story is adapted from Jeffrey Eugenider's novel). The five girls, Cecilia (Hanna Hall), Lux (Kirsten Dunst), Bonnie (Chelse Swain), Mary (AJ Cook) and Therese (Leslie Hayman), ranging between ages 13 and 17, are characterized through the eyes of the teenage boys of the neighborhood.
The boys are captivated by the mysterious girls and begin to worship their mysterious nature. As is common in adolescence, the girls seem to be alien to the fascinated boys, who try to do everything in their power throughout the film to understand them.
Mrs. Lisbon (Kathleen Turner) is an overbearing Catholic mother who tries to protect her daughters from the temptations of the flesh. In doing so, she strips the girls of any social interaction and holds strict guidelines for them to follow. Mr. Lisbon (James Woods) plays a more submissive role and is slightly more favorable to his daughters' relations with the opposite sex.
This dysfunctional and restrictive atmosphere adds to the longings of the girls, who are unable to experience any of their deep passions and wishes.
After Cecilia tries to slit her wrist, the Lisbon parents decide to have all of the neighborhood boys over for a birthday party. Cecilia takes this opportunity to jump out of her window, and plummets to her death. This is the last straw for Mrs. Lisbon, who responds by keeping the girls from socializing with anyone. The girls begin to gain a legendary status among the neighborhood boys, who are only more intrigued with their being.
Finally, the school jock, Trip Fontaine (Josh Hartnett), convinces Mr. Lisbon, apparently somewhat amused with the teenager's fascination with his daughters, to allow the girls to go to the prom with him and the neighborhood boys on a quadruple date.
The girls are just as thrilled as the boys are, and the ensuing prom scene gives a vivid portrayal of both the awkwardness and pleasures of youth. Ultimately, however, the prom turns to disaster for Lux and only strengthens the girls' repressions. Mrs. Lisbon decides to pull her daughters out of school and lock them up in the house.
The boys see all of this from the outside, and because the story is told from their perspective, the viewer is just as puzzled as the boys are about the girls' behavior. The boys begin to communicate with the Lisbon daughters on the phone and look at them through their binoculars. Their detached communication with them is symbolic of the detachedness that the girls experience with society.
The performances by Woods and Turner are first-rate as the Lisbon parents. Woods' restraint only augments the deep pain which he experiences, while Turner's overbearing protection is only a shield for her to hide under in order to avoid her own pain.
Dunst makes a noteworthy performance as Lux, encompassing innocence and intelligence with naiveté and pain to create a realistic teenage character. The rest of the cast compliments the film wonderfully and are especially praiseworthy due to the complexity of their roles.
The soundtrack is also a fantastic supplement to the film. The songs help to move the film through critical scenes, and show how significant the music of any era becomes to someone when they're 15.
In the end, the viewer is left with a haunting party scene in which a thick fog of green algae surrounds the area. Through the fog we see the adults laugh in their phony manner, apparently forgetting about the Lisbon girls. The boys, however, look on in distress through the fog of adolescence. They are not able to forget; they are not able to be phony. Their outer arrogance was shredded when they experienced the Lisbon girls, and now they are forced to unmask their insecurities that were hidden underneath.
Adolescence is captured best in "The Virgin Suicides" due to its complex and mysterious characters who depict the torments of youth. And perhaps that's how one should describe it to a friend: tell him to think of the awkwardness of his or her youth. For, ultimately, this eerie little story is meant for us to reflect on our own adolescence, our own mysterious selves.
--Movie Feature
All Scene Stories for Thursday, April 12, 2001
