Graduating From "The Graduate"
Mike Nichols went from a successful career as a comedian to a successful career as a filmmaker. He was smart, funny and pointed in his view of American life. Buck Henry, the screenwriter, is no less brilliant. This collaboration was magical and influenced a generation of movies.
Its greatest irony, though, is that "the counterculture" embraced the film as an anti-establishment statement.
Actually, it's not.
Viewing it today can be seen as "dated," but it also allows us to separate the social themes of 1967 (especially Viet Nam) from the appeal to the universal. As Ross Perot, used to say, look, it's simple:
1. Sex can be exploitative. Mrs. Robinson has to have Ben because she is a self-confessed alcoholic who is also a sex addict. She seems to have no more respect or affection for Ben than she would for a vibrator; in fact, she's openly contemptuous of him.
2. Romance can be narcissism. Ben wants Elaine because he sees "a better Ben" in her eyes. He doesn't know the first thing about her except that he likes himself better when he's with her. We fall in love with ourselves when we fall in love, and are denied the clarity of accurate self-perception just when we need it most.
3. The literary impulse to romance proposed can seal the illusion. Elaine leaves with Ben and gets on the bus; Nichols' mastery is to show the two of them, at length, not interacting with one another at all, but staring blankly at the people and world around them, dazed. Elaine did not run to Ben; she ran away from what she had a vague idea that she did not want. In life we can run away from things, run toward things, or quit running and confront ourselves. Elaine remains a lovely cypher thoughout this movie. When it's done, we know nothing more about her than when the film started.
Ben grows up: did you ever think that "American Beauty" could, with minimal stretching, be the story of Ben and Elaine a generation later? We're condemned to live the consequences of our freedom.
Its greatest irony, though, is that "the counterculture" embraced the film as an anti-establishment statement.
Actually, it's not.
Viewing it today can be seen as "dated," but it also allows us to separate the social themes of 1967 (especially Viet Nam) from the appeal to the universal. As Ross Perot, used to say, look, it's simple:
1. Sex can be exploitative. Mrs. Robinson has to have Ben because she is a self-confessed alcoholic who is also a sex addict. She seems to have no more respect or affection for Ben than she would for a vibrator; in fact, she's openly contemptuous of him.
2. Romance can be narcissism. Ben wants Elaine because he sees "a better Ben" in her eyes. He doesn't know the first thing about her except that he likes himself better when he's with her. We fall in love with ourselves when we fall in love, and are denied the clarity of accurate self-perception just when we need it most.
3. The literary impulse to romance proposed can seal the illusion. Elaine leaves with Ben and gets on the bus; Nichols' mastery is to show the two of them, at length, not interacting with one another at all, but staring blankly at the people and world around them, dazed. Elaine did not run to Ben; she ran away from what she had a vague idea that she did not want. In life we can run away from things, run toward things, or quit running and confront ourselves. Elaine remains a lovely cypher thoughout this movie. When it's done, we know nothing more about her than when the film started.
Ben grows up: did you ever think that "American Beauty" could, with minimal stretching, be the story of Ben and Elaine a generation later? We're condemned to live the consequences of our freedom.