Midlife crises have been a popular movie topic lately. Last year's "Election," "American Beauty," and "Magnolia" all touched upon the fears and reflections of every Baby Boomer.
Becoming even more hip is the idea of Generation X-ers having their "midlife" crises in their 20s, as depicted in David Fincher's "Fight Club." In "High Fidelity," director Stephen Frears reprises this theme -- but in the unlikely form of a strangely off-beat romantic comedy.
In this John Cusack vehicle based on Nick Hornby's book, Cusack plays Generation X-er Rob Gordon, a guy who continuously tries to find the perfect relationship, but always (humorously) fails. Sounds like typical romantic comedy fare, right? Surprisingly, Hornby's text and Frears direction escapes this trap by throwing in an unlikely extra level of complication -- Rob's obsession with pop music.
In the 1930s, broadcast radio brought U.S. citizens together, creating a national identity based on tear-jerking reports about the kidnapping of Charles Lindberg's baby and daily radio dramas. Even as television overtook the medium, pop music continued to bond teenagers together, giving them a common pop-culture.
But now, in the awkwardly-named '00s, Cusack's character Rob wonders at the film's beginning, "Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands -- literally thousands -- of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable, or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?"
From the screenplay's beginning, Hornby suggests that modern pop music pulls people apart instead of pulling them together. "High Fidelity" paints an entirely different picture from that of the early 20th century, implying that musical snobbery can cause pop music to alienate people from each other.
Actors Todd Louiso and Jack Black help Cusack flesh out this theme as characters Dick and Barry, two employees at Rob's independent music store who are completely socially inept -- so much so that they can talk only about music and violently conflict with anyone who does not agree with their condescending tastes. Louiso and Black fill their roles perfectly, and practically each of their appearances on the screen results in out-loud laughter.
Despite this, Dick and Barry are more than just comic relief. Frears also uses these characters to poke fun at other themes throughout the movie. The images of Dick and Barry pummeling Ian (Tim Robbins) -- the new-age, ponytailed guy who stole Rob's girlfriend -- are particularly memorable. "High Fidelity" does not treat yuppies with respect.
Of course, Rob has the same problem as Dick and Barry. He spends more time arranging his vinyl record collection autobiographically (according to the personal meaning each album has to him) than attempting to salvage his relationship with his girlfriend. He fills his downtime by building top-five lists of everything imaginable, from his five worst breakups to the five things he liked most about his previous girlfriend.
It's these top-five lists, not his recent break-up, that lead Rob to his "midlife" crisis, which is how audiences spend most of their time getting to know him. When Rob decides to explore his inability to make his relationships work, he chooses to visit the "culprits" (as he sees it) in his "top five all-time break-ups." Rob knows there's something wrong, but he needs his old girlfriends to figure it out for him.
Of course, each of them has their own theories about what went wrong, and each theory rattles him a little. During this exploration, Rob tries to discover what the audience knows from the beginning. His self-absorption in his personal music preferences has made it impossible for him to understand anyone else but himself. It's obvious that Frears understood the simple power of an image of Cusack in an isolated room, closed-off to the world with headphones on his ears.
While he may have trouble interfacing with the rest of the world, something about Rob's love for pop music is soothing to those who grew up trying to understand life through the eyes of artists like Velvet Underground, The Kinks and Stevie Wonder. But it's not just the music that is soothing; viewers will find Cusack himself comforting.
Cusack's appearance in the classic 80s flick "Say Anything" and his any-man demeanor allows him to relate to almost any Generation X-er. In addition, Frears's direction makes the film feel laid-back as it spews out its wry commentary. And although the postmodern self-consciousness exhibited through constant narration to the camera often seems clunky in films, in "High Fidelity," it somehow makes Rob even more likeable. Cusack manages his role with never-ending charm and succeeds in one-upping his "Being John Malkovich" performance.
Lastly, it's true the numerous musical references in the film may be lost on many viewers, but the message of the movie is universal for anyone lost in their 20s, anyone obssessed with anything, or anyone who simply likes to make top-five lists.
