The definition of an American classic
There’s something immediately striking about the opening scene in Albert Brooks’s 1985 classic comedy Lost in America. The film begins with a radio interview featuring legendary film critic Rex Reed where he is eloquently venting to Larry King about the state of movies and moviegoing during the era. While I won’t get into details, suffice it to say that his words speak so much to the state of going to the movies both then AND now. Whether or not it echoed Brooks’s sentiments of the day, it’s a moment which should be heard even if it has literally nothing much else to do with the movie. And yet, it does. If the scene takes apart the mere act of going to the movies during that time, the film as a whole serves as an out and out criticism of the decade when the 80s were at their peak and the hilarious devastation of what it could turn people into.
Written and directed by Brooks, Lost in America focuses on the happily-married David and Linda; a successful husband and wife who are going through major changes in their lives. The pair are about to buy their dream home and David is close to a huge promotion at work. However, when the promotion isn’t what he was expecting, a newly-liberated David convinces Linda that they should leave their yuppie existence and use their savings to take off across the country in a winnebago in an effort to find their true selves.
It is incredibly easy to spot and understand what David and Linda are running away from by quitting their jobs and heading out for a life on the road. Their actions speak to a incredibly real fear of becoming full-fledged members of the yuppie culture, consumed by materialism in every way, shape and form while remaining slaves to their slow-moving careers. The possibility of both David and Linda once being a part of the hippie culture and embracing the idea of an existence built on the more naturalistic sides of life is easy to imagine given the epiphany both go through, even though the two get extremely excited when they realize how much more money they’ll have by embarking on the road. But there’s a real fear about the decade that moves the couple; a fear of climbing up the social and corporate ladder and an even greater fear of being, in a way, dehumanized by it. One of the ultimate themes of Lost in America remains the idea of finally having everything you’ve ever strived for and then asking: Who am I now?
What David and Linda hope to find through this radical change is a re-connection with the people they once were before the stylish trappings of the decade took hold of them. The 80s and the kind of achievable lifestyle that it brought with it has gotten to them so much, that the couple begins to feel that they literally can’t become the people they’re trying to be without being swallowed up by the times. Despite the best of intentions, it’s heartbreaking and funny to watch fate rear its ugly head at David and Linda as it continuously thwarts their efforts of escape, from the key moment when Linda blows their life savings at a Las Vegas casino to the two eventually taking the most menial of jobs and pretending they’re happier as a result. Ultimately however, David and Linda’s old life is so much a part of them now, regardless of who they might have been once that it, in effect, prevents them from being able to make it on their own and inevitably pulls the two back in.
Although it features Garry Marshall (hilariously dry) in a small supporting role, Lost in America is essentially a two-person show between Brooks and Haggerty. For me, this is the film when all three of Brooks’s talents really made their mark. Not only does he brilliantly direct his funny and clever script, but he makes David someone all at once maniacal and relatable. Watching with glee at the way the actor exuberantly details the initial plan is matched by the same kind of energy when he lets loose his anger at Linda losing their nest egg. Meanwhile, Haggerty is the calmness in the storm that is Brooks, but the way she takes Linda on the journey from loving, supportive wife to liberated road traveller shows she was always an actress capable of holding her own.
Lost in America is classic Brooks in every way possible, from the character he’s given himself to play, to the endearing heroine, to the witty script (“What do you think,” Linda asks David upon entering their gaudy hotel room. “I think if Liberace had children, this would be their room,” he replies.) As a road movie, Lost in America is less about the sort of quick, gag-filled moments that are usually found in the genre, but rather about the situations which develop organically, snowball and become incredibly involving as a result. In the end, there’s something so magical about the spirit and the gusto with which the central characters embrace the opportunity in front of them and one cannot help but see the real beauty in the possibility of their dream coming true.
The Package
Apart from getting the Criterion treatment, including a gorgeous transfer, the blu-ray release of Lost in America features funny and telling interviews with Brooks and Haggerty and others on the making of the film.
The Lowdown
The hilarious Lost in America may not be Easy Rider, but in many ways, it’s just as meaningful.
Lost in America is now available on DVD and Blu-Ray from the Criterion Collection.
