i watched revolutionary road last evening. it portrays the quiet small time dramas of a young, ambitious couple who find themselves smashed up against the limitations of the settled life, and chafing against both the restrictions of circumstance, and the traditional expectations of traditional society.

for the couple who live on revolutionary road, they get caught in the web of the trappings of suburbia that smother the life out of their hearts’ aspirations. they consider themselves different, special – and yet, seven years later realise how common and dull they’ve become.  they discover the ugliness the belies the appearance of perfection: that so many of us invest ourselves in the pretense of happiness, the shellac of smile…all the while searching for answers, a different version of reality we hope to find in someone or someplace else. hoping that with enough energy behind the lies, with enough paint on the facade and alcohol to dull the pain, we can turn the lies into truth.

and yet, like crabs in a pot, what frightens us most is when others come close to realising their dreams – because the strength of their conviction only highlights the fragility of our own.

i found myself wound up in the story, identifying so strongly with those longings for escape and those feelings of struggle and panic that find you beating your fists against the invisible walls that box you in. because while for many people, families and houses and security are their version of the american dream, i’ve never wanted any of that. the serene and placid lives in the chocolate box houses on revolutionary road are the stuff of my nightmares, and the existence which the wife finds so soul-deadening would make me want to flee for my life.

this is my greatest fear: that i too, could somehow unknowingly find myself trapped in a life of my own making. that i too, could wake up one day and wonder where all my hopes have gone. it sounds terribly melodramatic, but i have this impulse to pre-emptively rail against expectations because i dread one day wondering if this is all there is, and didn’t i always want something more out of life? i am terrified of leading a life of quiet desperation.

in the end, she takes the only avenue of escape left to her – she is determined to have her freedom at any price.

and i never, ever want to feel that way. but given her choice, her life, i imagine i’d do the same.

death cab for cutie – cath…

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