395 - Lost in America, United States, 1985. Dir. Albert Brooks.

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

395 - Lost in America, United States, 1985.  Dir. Albert Brooks.

My legs are asleep.  Let's live here.

David Howard is making a life decision based on a momentary condition.  He is driving an RV.  He and his wife Linda have quit their jobs in Los Angeles.  (At least she quit her job.  He got fired.)  They have cashed in their life savings--their "nest egg"--to buy the RV and drive across America to find themselves.

They have already had adventures and challenges in Las Vegas and at Hoover Dam, and now they are pulling into Safford, Arizona.

Imagine making your new home in a place because your legs fell asleep.

David and Linda are of a generation that watched Easy Rider (1969).  They grew up on a concept called "dropping out."  And they romanticized it.  For them it meant freeing themselves of the restrictions of being responsible.  They are both responsible--corporate employees--and they feel trapped by it.

Indeed, when the movie begins they have just bought a new house; they are about to buy a new Mercedes; and David is anticipating the promotion to Senior Vice President for which he has been working the past eight years.

But things happen that cause them to go another direction, and this road trip ensues.

Maybe along the way they will find themselves.


Albert Brooks began as a comedian on television.  Then he did stand-up in clubs.  Then he made short films for Saturday Night Live.  Then he made movies.  Here he is writer, director, and star of a film that is part road movie, part analysis of the American dream, and straight comedy.

Julie Haggerty stands as both his partner and foil as the Howards come to terms with the reality underlying a fantasy they have long nurtured.  Maybe dropping out is not all that it was cracked up to be.

Fellow comic director Garry Marshall does a strong turn as the Casino Manager, and fellow comic director James L. Brooks appears as an extra at the party.

Albert Brooks peppers the film with real people playing real people.

Now imagine a film in which the American dream is critiqued but its opposite, which is in fact another kind of American dream, is critiqued more.

That while one kind of choice--staying home and climbing the corporate ladder--may result in one's feeling trapped and limited, another kind of choice--forsaking all responsibility and living freely for the moment--may result in an even greater entrapment.

And imagine a film in which the sight of a Mercedes-Benz and the longing it induces can act as a moralizing and ennobling force.

Albert Brooks can pull this off.