Each of Brook's directed movies has a strong central theme anyone can relate to.
Modern Romance sounds obvious until you see how tangled Brooks can make a simple
relationship. Real Life was one of the first and best reflexive looks at a media society that
has forgotten the meaning of privacy. And Defending Your Life redefined personal courage
for the affluent '80s in a way that the Yups were losing hold of. Lost in America is
about pampered, selfish urban professionals who are too self-obsessed to realize how damned lucky
they are, as they ponder the leather option in that just-around-the-corner Mercedes. But it's
not some scathing critique: Brooks' characters are always humans like you or me who just need their
eyes opened for a full appreciation of their lives.
Neurotic advertising man David Howard (Albert Brooks) has sold his house in anticipation of a big
career move at his Los Angeles Agency. He's also driving his wife Linda (Julie Hagerty) half-nuts
with his incessant second-guessing and insecure obsessions. When the promotion meeting turns
out to be a sideways shift to the New York office, David flips out, insults his boss, and gets
himself escorted from the building by security. Making a rash decision to 'drop out' like the
fantasy in the movie Easy Rider, David gets Linda to quit her job too. They head for
Las Vegas in a large motorhome, to renew their marriage vows and sleep under the stars. But a nice hotel
sounds like a better plan for the exhausted couple, so they stay the night in a casino-hotel ... and
when David wakes up, he finds his wife has spent half the night down at the roulette wheel ...
Lost in America would be a nightmare film if it were not for the mirth provided by Albert Brooks. His
characterizations, writing and pacing are right-on; and his direction focuses on the pertinent situations
of his comedy without throwing in unnecessary gags or goosing the audience for laughs. His forte is
the basic comedic monologue (usually a Brooks tirade of self-pitying wit), and neurotic encounters
with the rest of a world that doesn't seem to be as self-tortured as he is. Money,
status, security and success are what David Howard has worshipped for fifteen years; as far as he's
concerned he's fulfilled his part of the personal bargain and now it's time for the reward. A born
chicken-counter, he's already sold his house and picked out the new car. The reason he goes ape when
he doesn't get what he's decided he deserves, is that he's identified himself completely with success in a business
world that doesn't recognize 'personal bargains.'
In Detour, Al Roberts' trip across America in search of his dream turns
into a film noir disaster. The reason he's interesting is because what repeatedly trips him up
is not some implacable fate, but his own self-image as a Loser. Giuletta Masina in The Nights of
Cabiria seeks to change her life, but loses her life savings. The magic comes when she realizes
that she's still her same happy self, that it doesn't matter, life will go on. Not so
for Lost in America's David Howard. When an unforseen turn of events robs David and Linda of
their 'nest egg,' leaving them without enough gasoline to cross a state, let alone see America, they get
an urgent lesson in reality 101. Trying to find work in a small town sets the stage for some hilarious but
absolutely right-on encounters that show them the way to salvation. The real Americans they
meet in the real America, would all give their souls for a chance at what David's thrown away.
Lost in America's lesson is that modern urban society makes us status-conscious, artificial, and
shallow, but that there are lots of worse things to be and worse situations to find oneself in. When
David's back in his element again, slugging away with his cheerfully obnoxious business persona, it's
obvious that's where he belongs, and at least now he knows it. Albert Brooks doesn't insist that
you see his comedies as 'meaningful,' and they're certainly just as hilarious without any of this
thinking ... but it puts him far ahead of the game, up there with the classic comedies.
Most of the setpieces in the film are inspired, and a couple are simply transcendant. Probably the
best is David's pitiful attempt to talk a casino executive (Garry Marshall) into giving back the money
they've lost at his roulette wheel. David's sorry belief that his ad-man patter can coax money
from this man is funny, almost painfully so.
Julie Hagerty makes an excellent foil for Brooks, as undemonstrative and thoughtful as he is brash and
exaggerated. She makes Linda Howard the kind of person who's genuinely surprised by her own
susceptability to the gambling bug, and yet we know she isn't damaged by her husband's tirade of sarcasm
when her 'little mistake' turns into disaster.
In most of Brooks' stories he doesn't link up well with females, the ending of Defending Your Life
being the only slightly strained part of that film. David and Linda are a good couple. Woody Allen
basically believes relationships are impossible, and even his sweetest movies reflect this cynicism.
Neil Simon conceives of characters as collections of kooky quirks, and all any Simon relationship needs
to succeed is for people to to get past one another's idiosyncrasies. All three write funny movies, but
I like Brooks' philosophy the best. It actually takes into account the idea that we can be smart enough
to understand at least part of our own contradictory natures. Even if we can't change everything
about our lives, we can be happier by improving our attitudes.
Warner's DVD of Lost In America is clean and handsome, beautifully transferred in bright
16:9. The track is simply dialogue about 90% of the time, but is also free of flaws. The
sum total of added value extras is one trailer. Insanely, the movie is rated 'R'. To the
best of my memory, Brooks says the F word twice or three times in anger ... giving this positive,
affirming movie an R? .... sheesh.
On a scale of Excellent, Good, Fair, and Poor,
Lost in America rates:
Movie: Excellent
Video: Excellent
Sound: Excellent
Supplements: Trailer
Packaging: Snapper case
Reviewed: April 10, 2001