THIS IS THE KIND OF MOVIE that inspires a faintly reassuring, "Oh yeah... I remember that one" whenever it's brought up in conversation. Gary Ross's high-concept allegory recalls more fairy-tale symbolism than gripping character drama, though really it supplies both; it's a cute story told in a cute way that sent a message once and has since been forgotten.The reason to watch Pleasantville--which anyone can now buy at HMV for six bucks--is that it combines the entire slew of mid-century countercultures into one imaginary retelling, and it does a good job of it. There's the Beats, into radical new forms of art and drugs (Jeff Daniels as the sensitive deli owner-gone-artist), the civil rights movement (made obvious by the signs in conservative store owners' windows declaring "NO COLOREDS"), and the sexual revolution all wrapped into one very small city. These revelations literally bring colour to the townspeople's lives, and watching the film over a decade since its release proves that that colour doesn't fade.
It's sad to see how some movies made a mark and faded away; Pleasantville seems like it'll become like one of those Billy Wilder movies people don't really talk about anymore (The Fortune Cookie, maybe?), ever-present in the book of "1001 Movies You Should See Before You Die" sort of thing, but scarcely talked about the way we talk about Hitchcock. The reason may be that Pleasantville is just that--pleasant, not spectacular, a film worth watching if you enjoy watching films, or if you enjoy extremely obvious ruminations on the emotional satisfaction of contemporary utopias. It ruminates, but only for two hours. Then it ends.
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