This'll Be The Day That I Pie

Year: 2012

Director: Jon Hurwitz & Hayden Schlossberg

Cast: Jason Biggs, Alyson Hannigan, Seann William Scott 

Run Time: 1 hour 53 minutes

MPAA Rating: R

Well, here we are. I may have skipped way ahead in our Seann William Scott marathon, but of course that was only a pretense to allow me to watch the American Pie movies again. So that brings us to American Reunion, the fourth and probably final film in the franchise, coming a long 9 years after American Wedding. Let’s see if this Pie has gotten stale.

Pro-tip: if a pie has been sitting on a windowsill for a decade, maybe don’t eat it.

In American Reunion, the denizens of East Great Falls return home for their not-quite ten year high school reunion. Jim (Jason Biggs) and Michelle (Alyson Hannigan) now have a two-year-old son; Oz (Chris Klein) is back from the dead and a B-list sportscaster/celebrity dance show contestant who’s dating sexy nymphette Mia (Katrina Bowden); Finch (Eddie Kaye Thomas) has arrived with an array of globetrotting tales; and Kevin (Thomas Ian Nicholas) is just happy to be included. They plan to spend a nice, quiet weekend catching up before the reunion. Enter Stifler (Seann William Scott). Frustrated by his job as a temp, he wants to have a wild, crazy weekend just like they did back in high school.

Thus our aged foursome is tempted away from their wives and boring jobs by various women and the rekindling of old flames. Oz and Kevin run into their exes Heather (Mena Suvari) and Terrible Vickie (Tara Reid), who is terrible, Finch woos band geek-cum-sexy barmaid Selena (Dania Ramirez), and Jim must resist the advances of Kara (Ali Cobrin), the lithe now-eighteen-year-old he used to babysit.

And thus they continue to act like they’ve never seen boobs before in their entire lives.

Remember that thing I said about the first American Pie where the women were actually fleshed-out, sexually autonomous characters? Well, apparently the law of diminishing returns also applies to quasi-feminism in raunchy movie franchises. The rule of thumb still holds true in that an American Pie film’s quality is directly proportional to the screentime of Alyson Hannigan’s Michelle, and Reunion takes after American Wedding in the misuse of that iconic character. Once again she is crammed into the role of “Wife,” the woman who must be kept unaware of the boys’ sexual misadventures, as if she wouldn’t have been right in there with them.

And frankly, most of the other female characters don’t even make sense. I get it when Terrible Vickie is terrible, because she’s terrible, but why the hell would Heather get mad upon seeing Oz macking on his live-in girlfriend? Why would Kara have any sexual interest in Jim (no offense, but c’mon), especially with such rapacious determination? And why does Michelle threaten to pack up and move in with her grandmother the second Jim commits a sexual misunderstanding, something that has become – like – a full time career for him at this point? I think this all boils down to the biggest problem with the later films in this franchise: These adults are still written like teenagers.

Obviously adults can get into sexual hijinks, probably even more so than your average high school student. But the motivations here are so childish and crudely motivated, they make way less sense when transplanted from the locker-filled halls of Long Beach Poly to a family cul de sac.

Yeah, I’m still not convinced that we’re in Michigan. Better luck next time, fellas. Oh wait…

At least American Reunion has reassembled its core cast (including cameos from Natasha Lyonne, Shannon Elizabeth, Chris Owen, and a slightly expanded part for a finally famous John Cho, who appeared in all 3 American Pies before hitting it big with Harold & Kumar), so it feels more like a legitimate continuation than the stunted Wedding. And you can rarely go wrong with Seann William Scott’s Stifler, the only character whose actions make any sense as he yearns for the glory days of his teen years. His mugging overreactions and faux charm still hold some juice, once again bringing most of the best laughs by the bucketful.

And American Reunion is funny. At least enough to justify its own existence. The bright colorful characters of the original film have become shabby and patched (especially Eugene Levy as Jim’s Dad, who they can not find a use for here, shoving him into a shopworn dress-up montage that stops the movie cold), but the situations they find themselves in are still reasonably diverting. And this is the first film in the entire dick-obsessed franchise to actually show a penis – if only for a second – so I applaud its audacity at the very least.

Unfortunately though, for the most part American Reunion is just a retread of the lackluster American Wedding (although there are fewer gay jokes, thank heavens), only with Neon Trees on the soundtrack instead of Sum 41. This one-two punch is good enough not to totally sink my esteem for the franchise (those first two are just too good), but I don’t think I’d mind if this was the last slice of Pie. There’s no reason to revisit these characters in their current, destitute state.

TL;DR: American Reunion is a decent years-later followup, though it copies the problems of its immediate predecessor.

Rating: 6/10

Word Count: 898
Reviews In This Series
American Pie (Weitz, 1999)
American Pie 2 (Rogers, 2001)
American Wedding (Dylan, 2003)
American Pie Presents: Band Camp (Rash, 2005)
American Pie Presents: The Naked Mile (Nussbaum, 2006)
American Pie Presents: Beta House (Waller, 2007)
American Pie Presents: The Book of Love (Putch, 2009)
American Reunion (Hurwitz & Schlossberg, 2012)

Do You Ever Feel Like A Plastic Bag?

Year: 1999

Director: Sam Mendes

Cast: Kevin Spacey, Thora Birch, Annette Bening

Run Time: 2 hours 2 minutes

MPAA Rating: R

Happy families are all alike. But unhappy family movies are even more alike.

The meltdown of the nuclear family is perhaps the most commonly explored theme in contemporary American filmmaking. To stand out, one's film must have something more to offer than a mere subversion of the American Dream. After all, nothing is worse than being ordinary.

In its way, American Beauty does accomplish this, mainly by being one of the most technically flawless films to come out of the 1990's. As an example of textbook-precise filmmaking, look no further than Sam Mendes' directorial debut, for which he must have carefully studied every popular filmmaking technique in the industry, tossing in a few creative strokes of his own for good measure.

But a perfect machine only runs perfectly on the right fuel, and in filmmaking this means a proper script. American Beauty's screenplay is far from being an Uwe Boll napkin scribble, but at times it indulges itself in layers of pretention that would make even Richard Kelly weep with jealousy.

Although in a Richard Kelly movie, this bath would be a portal to the sub-universe of forgotten names or something.

American Beauty, as if you weren't already aware, is about Lester Burnham (Kevin Spacey), a middle-aged father who works at a thankless job and lives in a quiet suburban neighborhood with his unsuccessful realtor wife Carolyn (Annette Bening) and his surly teen daughter Jane (Thora Birch). His boring, plodding life begins to change when he develops a crush on his daughter's friend Angela (Mena Suvari). His ichor burning bright, he lets loose and begins pursuing his wildest desires like quitting his job, working out, smoking pot, getting a sports car, and mid-life crisising all the way to the bank.

American Beauty (which is named for a beautiful variety of rose that is prone to rot at the roots - ooh, portentous) is a film all about the strict rules we manage ourselves by in order to maintain our own superficial feelings of success, and what happens when those rules are exposed for the intangible artifice that they are. As Lester breaks free from those bonds, his acting out has a ripple effect, distorting the rules for everyone in his vicinity.

It's interesting, to say the least. Exposing the dark underbelly of suburbia is something that many of my favorite horror films do, and it's a treat to see it play out in a more comedic context. Unfortunately, the far more interesting story that revolves around Lester is frequently impeded upon by a dire subplot, in which Jane strikes up a youthful romance with the neighbor's son Ricky (Wes Bentley), whose every line of dialogue is filled to the brim with Important and Meaningful pseudo-philosophy.

In my notes, I took to calling his character Donnie Dorko.

As Ricky tools around with his camcorder, making Intense, Significant Statements about how plastic bags and dead birds are metaphors for life, Lester's plot falters, devolving temporarily into an absurd sitcom plot  that turns him into a sputtering cartoon figure, while Angela herself vanishes completely for over a third of the running time, sucked into a black hole of self-congratulation. Of all of the insight and commentary on the American family that American Beauty attempts to cram into its two hours, only about 60% is presented in a manner that doesn't make me want to eject bile directly onto a teenager's face.

However, despite a grossly inflated sense of its own importance, American Beauty is a rather remarkable film. Nearly every aspect of its production is a finely tuned instrument of emotional evocation, from the production design on up. Now, it's probably obvious that the color red appears in the film in profusion to reflect the passion and vigor of various characters, but every little detail from the placement of a kitchen island to the leaves on the trees lining the street play a small part of making the film's universe a complete, visual whole.

Likewise, the cinematography is mathematically precise, freely giving and taking power, shifting the dynamics between characters with breathless ease, all compounded with the alternately jangling and peanut butter smooth score. Every moment is picturesque and precise, but where American Beauty truly comes alive is in its fantasy sequences, which are shot with reckless abandon with an absurdly generous wealth of vivacious color, providing instantly iconic imagery left and right.

There's a few unfortunate bits of gummy-looking CGI which only a mother could love, and Mena Suvari's performance degrades every time she is called upon to say another line (though, to be fair, Angela is more of a distillation of virtues than an actual character), but technical flaws are few and far between.

Just like Thora Birch's future movie roles. Zing!

Kevin Spacey and his co-stars are terrific, but the real standout of the film is Annette Bening, whose glacier-like features and perpetually frozen smile begin to crack and thaw under the pressure. She lets us snatch glimpses of the true Carolyn through an impeccable physical and vocal performance.

So, all things considered, American Beauty is a terrifically professional example of creative filmmaking. Its lofty artistic goals are only partially met, and it would be much improved if someone took a scalpel to any scenes that attempt to understand high schoolers, but as a cinematic machine it's a damn Rolls Royce.

As if I could dislike any film that name drops Re-Animator.

TL;DR: American Beauty is a tad pretentious, but it's a well-oiled machine of a film.

Rating: 7/10

Word Count: 941