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he
controversial and independently released L.I.E. named
after the Long Island Expressway is not only one of the year's
best movies, but brilliant in its own right. Director Michael Cuesta
seduces the audience with his directing, bringing a morbid sense
of the perverse within the grasp of understanding. The most original
movie depicting suburban life in recent memory, L.I.E. shatters
the mold for teen strife movies and accomplishes something extraordinary.
The film begins
with 15-year-old Howie Blitzer walking atop a guardrail of an L.I.E.
overpass. Narrating, he says: "There are lanes going east,
lanes going west, and lanes going straight to hell." This gifted
adolescent, on the verge of suicide, must come to terms with his
mother's death in a car accident on the infamous highway.
The complications,
however, only begin here. His father is inconsiderate and negligent
of his son, acquiring a girlfriend within weeks of the incident.
Moreover, Howie becomes aware of his homosexual tendencies, yet
must keep them secret from his seemingly intolerant friends rather
than risk expulsion from his only remaining refuge, their companionship.
Isolated and
alone, this troubled youth is an ideal target for the movie's other
main character, an ex-Marine and pederast. Middle-aged Big John
tracks Howie down after searching for the teens responsible for
burglarizing his home. Once it becomes clear, however, that Howie
is not some average child-thief, John offers his friendship and
guidance in place of preying sexually on this troubled soul. Big
John begins to assume the role that Howie's unloving father has
left vacant.
The kids in
the film are unabashed exhibitionists. Rarely wearing shirts, and
frequently only underwear, these boys are hardly modest in groups
or alone. These scenes transform the audience into voyeurs, providing
us glimpses of Howie when he is most vulnerable. Captured in moments
of total innocence, Howie peacefully sleeping-even when wrestling,
engaging in robbery, or smoking a cigarette, his behavior may more
appropriately be classified as innocently mischief than deviant,
more reminiscent of Tom Sawyer than a juvenile delinquent.
Cuesta wants
to make the audience understand how this child becomes an object
of desire for John. At the same time, however, L.I.E. is
by no means excusing of pedophilia. When Big John's male companion
berates John, telling him that he should feel ashamed for even considering
exploiting this sexually confused teenager, he replies, "I
am. I always have been."
This movie
is not comfortable to watch, and isn't intended to be. This boy's
existential angst is displayed on screen for your amusement, your
entertainment-we treat his plight as a means to our own ends, exploiting
the character in the process. Like John, we are meant to feel ashamed
for bearing witness to these private and very intimate moments of
a child coming of age. It is in this way that the director succeeds
in making you empathize.
Cuesta is not
making a political statement about homosexuality. Early on in the
movie, Howie is shown staring blankly into a bathroom mirror, his
watery eyes just shy of overflowing with tears. A million other
teenagers, without regard to their sexual orientation, are also
staring, asking themselves the very same question that perplexes
Howie: Who am I? Homosexuality is a mere device, and an effective
one, for representing the extreme alienation teenagers routinely
feel.
And with the
exception of one scene in which Big John explains the difficulty
in defining his sexual orientation, social norms are not questioned.
Of course, a real life Big John would probably articulate similar
beliefs, so this indictment hardly comprises an editorial from the
filmmakers.
To be sure,
this movie is not without flaws. The resolution between Howie and
his father unfolds much more smoothly than Big John's cinematic
fate. The latter might have worked had the script been crafted in
a slightly different manner, though as it stands seems dubiously
tacked on.
This film will
launch the careers of some very exceptional talent. Cuesta succeeds
by every conceivable measure, and Paul Franklin Dano, as Howie,
delivers a powerful performance with soft-spoken delivery and understated
assertiveness. Few actors possess his restraint and grace.
In an age when
movies are predominately viewed as a means of escape, L.I.E.
is a powerful reminder of the film medium's potential. Cuesta bestows
upon the audience a role within the film itself, thereby forcing
them to feel the same emotions as the characters on screen. Exceptional
in every regard, L.I.E. is truly a heartfelt masterpiece.
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