October 26th, 2001  by B. Alan Orange

 

Darth Vader's in the hizz-ouse! What, were you expecting inappropriate praise of Kevin Kline, or maybe a dissertation on the time I helped Pat MaGee build a house and how it brought us closer together as individuals? Hell, no. The real story here is Hayden Christensen. It's an obvious angle I had to take. After Jake Lloyd's Anakin Skywalker turn at Lucas Ranch, it's been on the minds of fans and critics alike: Did George make the right decision this time? Who is this kid and can he pull it off? Is he going to be another brat in the face of fame? A complete f*ck with the tenacity to leave his squeezebox of emote on the school bus?

Not many people have seen Hayden in the fine form of screen thespian, and this new tearjerker works as a sort of testing ground. Both his Anakin Skywalker and his Sam Monroe are teens dealing with angst of the worst kind, whether it be in So-Cal or Theed. It's not hard to imagine a young Darth Vader giving handjobs in the park while doped up on Vicadin. That kind of downtime entertainment is just the sort of thing to turn one to the Darkside. Though, Vader would rethink the cobalt blue skunk-stripe in his hair. That sh*t aint going to fly in the face of the Imperial Senate.

Christensen proves himself to be an engaging and powerful actor in this, his first real outing of talent. He takes a completely cliched character and turns it into someone worth caring about. An amazing feat considering those involved in the production of Life as a House are as disconnected to Sam as his insider family seems to be. The wardrobe department needs to be flogged for throwing this one up on the screen. What were they thinking? Christensen looks as though he wandered off the set of Valley Girl, a movie that took its eighties sensibility to cartoonish heights. Kids don't dress like this anymore, and the blue locks look more ridiculous than an "example picture" on a cardboard package of Halloween Hair Dye. Monroe seems to be going through some truly painful moments, yet the screenwriters have conceived him as a throwaway rube in Goth's clothing. As played by Hayden, I don't see this kid in the shell he's created for himself. He's much darker than the outdated Marilyn Manson music would have you believe. This is an adult's-eye view, and in conceptualizing the look of this character, they're a couple of steps behind.

That can be forgiven. The movie is perfectly pitched at the age of Kline's George Monroe. His is the more realized temperament at forty-something; the director obviously coming at things from George's pointed angle. Life as a House is a realistic look at Mike Brady after the discovery of cancer. We get to see one of the scenes we always hoped for on the Brady Bunch as Kline goes on a rampage after being fired. He takes a bat to his outdated architecture models, whacking them into sawdust. He then blacks out in the street, waking up later to discover he has one of those diseases Hollywood likes to infect people with in hopes of retrieving an Oscar.

It's all a rather sad affair. Be warned, this is an attempt to wring tears out of your cheeks for at least a good thirty minutes. It achieves weeper status by means that are both emotionally real and manipulative, mirroring the personality of its lead. To the best of my knowledge, it works. There wasn't a dry eye in the house, and it was affecting me in a rather pained way. Water edged the corner of my eyelids, a sick feeling eating at my empty stomach. The women seated around me were blubbering snot into their hands, one even moaned through clinched fingers. It hits kind of hard. The only people not moved by its light of being were two gay couples seated in front of me. I guess they took unkindly to Hayden stating loudly, while in a steamy shower with a sixteen year old girl, "I AM NOT GAY!"

So, Darth Vader and Mike Brady build a house. How touching is that? It's easy to see through the film's obvious rules of cinema. The script is based on the rather predictable symbolism of a house being torn down so a new one can be built. This is in direct relation to George Monroe tearing down his past and building back relationships with not only his son, but his ex-wife as well. Unlike the last few extremely weak drizzle-pics that have hit and failed, this one seems authentic. Its inner workings are on a whole other level when compared to sh*t-flicks like Autumn in New York and Step Mom. House's obvious comparison will be to American Beauty. Sure, it hits a lot of the same notes and also has Scott Bakula walking around in the background, but the two films split, going in opposite directions. American Beauty's Lester Burnham isn't looking for redemption, nor does he find it. George Monroe accomplishes his task, which is earning love and respect from those he's lost. The story's not so much about a midlife crisis as it is atonement in one's final days. We shouldn't be sad for George, we should be happy. At least he is handed the chance to make everything right. He's given a gift in time, and uses it wisely. Reason enough to care for everything that's played out by end credit time.

The relationship between Kline and estranged wife Kristin Scott Thomas is a rather nice one. She's an easy girl to fall in love with, even at her age. It's undeniable that these two are experiencing a resurgence of lust. We want to see the seeds sewn, and hold our breath through much of the picture. George Monroe isn't a bad guy; he's just lost his way a bit. It seems every one here has. The correlation between father and son is a tad more ugly. Sam has a super tight fence around his flesh, unable to withstand the touch of human skin. It takes a nubile sophomore to gradually break him down. My advice to you: If you're ever having a problem connecting with your teenage son, throw him into a bathtub with the hottie next-door. He'll lighten up real quick. Guaranteed.

After seeing this movie, I thought about things in my own life for a very long time. Fingers carefully tuned that knob of inviolability. I had a deep conversation with myself, discussing the ways in which I'd want to live out my final months. What happened? There was a time not too long ago when I'd ditch a movie like this. Weighing two options in my hand, I'd rather see this, now, than some lame science fiction picture about rabbits. The Orange must be growing up; a scary thought. To all the lame twenty-thirties out there: Is this our On Golden Pond? It just might be. Does that mean it has a chance at the Oscars? That's a tough one; I've never been a good judge. If it does, it'll be on a stepladder of salty tears. Is the climate right for something that's going to give you an upset stomach? Time will tell. Life as a House excels at making you reconsider who you love and who is important in your life. I'm going to go hide in the corner of my room and cry for awhile.

Space is limitless, use it well.