" Plastics!"
My generation howled at that line when we watched The Graduate in the late 1960s, and we often trekked to the theater four or five times to see the film. The line simply falls flat with modern audiences, and attempts to explain its significance only gain stunned silence, convincing younger people that we truly were off our collective rockers back then (and should be sitting in rockers today).
An icon of alienation, Mike Nichols' well-crafted film doesn't survive the test of time like another Dustin Hoffman vehicle of the 60s—Midnight Cowboy. Watching The Graduate the other night, 35 years after its creation, was an eye-opener. What I once thought rebellious now plays like trite romantic comedy, that is more interesting for its editing and technique than its ideas.
To be sure, The Graduate is better known to current audiences for its influence on Wes Anderson (Rushmore, The Royal Tenenbaums), most obviously in his continual use of water imagery and expert incorporation of pop rock songs. And the Simon and Garfunkle songs blend in quite well, although I was never a fan of the "The Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine" played during Benjamin's first date with Elaine—the song was a silly flop that no self-respecting young person played even back in the 1960's.
Even though "Scarborough Fair/Canticle" and "Mrs. Robinson" hit the charts big time after the film's release (with Paul Simon only reluctantly writing a fuller version of the latter), the best Simon and Garfunkle moments occur with "Sounds of Silence" and "April Come She Will." Nichols and editor Sam O'Steen craft a virtual music video montage with "April"—the visuals match the rhythm flawlessly, and the ending cross cutting is stunning—the jumping into the pool, on top of Mrs. Robinson, and back to the pool sequence.
Those old enough will surely remember the standard high school English assignment of analyzing "The Sounds of Silence" for signs of alienation and miscommunication:
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never shared
No one dared
Disturb the sounds of silence
It's humorous to recall how orgasmic secondary English teachers would get about this song, citing how they could use relevant pop music to touch student lives in those days, but it does fit in well with the film, considering that hardly anyone really listens to each other throughout the movie. Ben (Dustin Hoffman) silently mopes in his room, staring at his aquarium, or drifts in the pool, worrying about his future but only communicates disinterest in everything around him—the image of Ben isolated at the bottom of the swimming pool remains classic and the lesser cited clown portrait illustrating the shallowness of his suburban life. The older generation practices dysfunction on cue—Mrs. Robinson (Ann Bancroft) has nothing much to say, and Mr. Robinson (Murray Hamilton) continues to pour Scotch despite Ben's request for bourbon.
But even Elaine (Katherine Ross) doesn't have much to say. She looks air brushed and lovely, and Nichols manipulates the lens of the camera to blur when tears are expected since Ross couldn't deliver on cue. On their first date, Ben explains that he's got this compulsive urge to be rude. How does Elaine respond? She smiles and laughs through her burger, nodding her understanding as if she's a brainless airhead with no thoughts of her own (this will be repeated later).
She's a good screamer though (this may be dubbed in), but her whole presence serves only as eye candy to inspire Benjamin's obsession, becoming a symbol for the first real goal that the confused graduate has ever had in his life. Yet instead of delivering psychological depth like the Jimmy Stewart character in Vertigo, Nichols presents an illogical romantic comedy.
Adolescents may be able to relate to Benjamin's unrequited determination to win the woman of his dreams—the string of handwritten "Elaine's," unrelenting spying on her, and desperate ploy of following her to the Berkeley campus. This plays well with the "Scarsborough Fair" theme song, but requires a tremendous suspension of belief. Even now in the days of Jerry Springer, how many can believe that it's reasonable for a young man to pursue the daughter of a married woman he's just had an affair with her mother—and believe that the daughter would forgive him instantly without further communication? And all of this after a single night's date . . . with Dustin Hoffman, no less?
Juxtapositions of Dustin with scratching monkeys and a gorilla works much better. His character played much better in the foggy 1960's where he could be viewed as an ambiguous Holden Caufield without the internal dialogue—the alienated soul who didn't want to become like everyone else in middle-class America, despite having all its trappings. The original book describes Benjamin as the typical fraternity jock—the blond, athletic All-American boy, so casting the short, dark-haired Hoffman gives a different subtext to the film that is more cosmetic than substantive. As simple comedy, Hoffman's zombie-like character works adequately but the film never explores his character to satisfaction.
Far more interesting is Ann Bancroft's character. Her hardly subtle seduction scene holds up, and Nichol's choice of pairing her open legged shift on the barstool with Hoffman's comment about her "opening up her life" to him still gives a chuckle. But she's far more than stereotype and symbol, giving the only emotionally charged scenes—her vulnerable comments about her loss of interest in art and her rain soaked visage as Benjamin points out who "the other woman" was.
Just what has gone wrong with her life, and with American society at the time? The older generation has lost its facade of happiness and contentment in the American dream, where the good life no longer satisfies. Does Mrs. Robinson attempt to rekindle those forgotten dreams through a youthful lover? Why doesn't she want Elaine getting together with Benjamin? The simple explanation is jealousy, yet other possibilities abound. It's too late for Mrs. Robinson to find marital bliss, but perhaps her daughter can still find the American dream through a blond haired yuppie, and she realizes that Benjamin is just as lost as she is�wanting more out of life but not knowing where to look. The movie allows Mrs. Robinson to remain ambiguous, so years later hers is the one character that loiters in the memory.
The other characters linger mostly through song and symbol. The wedding rescue is a folk motif than has been around for centuries, and after the initial thrill of escaping from a sterile marriage modeled after her parents Elaine and Ben sit quietly in their own private fishbowl on the bus, as the "Sounds of Silence" beats into our cinematic consciousness.
A clever device, using the music of Simon and Garfunkle to convince the children of the sixties that this screwball comedy was more than window dressing. We were suckers for songs of alienation back then and flocked to see anything that smacked of anti-establishment politics. The older generation often criticized the youth for protesting without having an alternative program in place.
Looking back at The Graduate, I see much the same criticism applying to Nichols' film. In the end, Ben and Elaine have hardly escaped the fate of following in their parents' footsteps, but only delayed the pattern. In essence, the movie is competent and well constructed, but stands as little more than screwball comedy with some great scenes, a memorably poignant Mrs. Robinson, and some great music videos. |
