In the mid 80s David Lynch surrealistically revealed unseen evils lurking behind the placid scenes of small town America in Blue Velvet to show what a strange world we live in. Sixteen years later, Todd Haynes steps up to shatter any lingering idyllic images of Ozzie and Harriet's perfect universe in Far from Heaven, a reworking of Douglas Silk's 1955 film, All That Heaven Allows. Of course, Americans are far more cynical now, and Haynes uses this to great advantage in his latest work, since the audience will recognize the naivete of the era and see the humorous irony he writes into the drama.

Retaining the melodramatic spirit of the 50s, Haynes paints a beautifully constructed Technicolor portrait of an era that more realistically could be shaded in grays and blacks. Opening with striking boom shots that frame the people of Hartford, Connecticut with red and yellow fall foliage, the camera woos with perfection--the warm colors blend with Cathy Whitaker's (Julianne Moore) reddish blonde hair and coordinated wine-hued dress, as she leads us inside her perfect upper middle class split-level home. Cathy and husband Frank (Dennis Quaid) are the photogenic Mr. and Mrs. "Megatech" that appear in Frank's company ads, and they have the ideal number of children (a perfectly balanced boy and girl). This post war idyllic scene is underscored by the local society paper matron, Mrs. Leacock (Bette Henritze), who drops by with her photographer to do a story on Cathy--a role model for "women with families and homes to keep up with."

The Whitakers' model lifestyle turns out to be a facade that crumbles when Cathy discovers that her husband is a closet homosexual. Still she clings to the belief that there's a simple solution, and her husband wants to be cured of his "abnormal"sexual cravings. Of course they can't discuss his condition--homosexuality was a taboo subject in the 1950s--and "those" kind of people would only be whispered about privately and ridiculed in public. As clueless as Cathy seems to be about sexuality, she intuitively knows that she can't share this secret with her gossipy friends, and in her growing frustration she ends up confiding more with her gardener, Raymond (Dennis Haysbert).

Sensitive and compassionate, Raymond is the perfect confidant for such secrets, but he is also black. And if you think that shouldn't be such a big deal in Connecticut, an area that had its share of abolitionists and defended the Union during the Civil War, then you have a truly romantic notion of 1957 America. In the same year that President Eisenhower sent federal troops to Little Rock, the north had plenty of racial prejudice to go around, and Haynes deftly demonstrates these backward views with the vicious gossip that emerges when Cathy is seen publicly with Raymond.

Cathy's life is turned upside down. Her husband's homosexuality blocks their intimacy and threatens to bring down her family, but social constraints prevent her from having a platonic relationship with Raymond, and her friendship with him threatens to destroy her family as well. It's a no-win scenario that can only have a happy ending in fantasies, and indie writer/director Haynes isn't known for constructing simplistic Hollywood scenarios.

Haynes hits all the right notes--from Elmer Bernstein's lyrical 50s theme music, to Cathy's perky head toss that leads to the temporary loss of her violet scarf, to the art exhibition where Cathy and Raymond connect over a Miro painting, to Edward Lachman's crisp cinematography. Haynes demonstrated great style and depth with previous works like the Genet triad in Poison and the treatise on AIDS in Safe, and here he reveals a definitive 2002 take on the 50s with all its superficiality. The shallow can still view the 50s as "Happy Days," but more thoughtful people will remember them as Haynes visualizes in Far from Heaven.

The ensemble acting is outstanding, but both Moore and Quaid highlight with some of the best performances of their careers. Putting his usual boyish charm on the back burner, Quaid becomes the tortured, self-hating closet homosexual who lives in limbo. His self-loathing shows through his eyes, and his drunken rage erupts as naturally as his quieter scenes of discomfort at the psychiatrist's office. Likewise, Moore transforms from being the prototype stylized 50s housewife to a vulnerable pitiful human being who is one of the more memorable characters in recent history. Her early scenes are nearly over the top sweetness, yet there's substance to her character that draws you in and works to devastating effect when her world crumbles.

Although Far from Heaven is a fairly easy movie for people to relate to, it's far from simple. The characters are all trapped in their existence, and Haynes provocatively plops us into their uncomfortable little world. And as progressive as we'd like to think we are in 2002, residual negative attitudes towards gays, minorities, and other non-mainstream people still cause people to live sheltered lives and prevent us from true freedom. In that sense the film is challenging, and that is part of what makes it one of the most satisfying film experiences of the year.