Revolutionary Road : Frame by Frame Analysis

I think this might be the first time I’ll be analyzing a movie the way we used to decorticate a book’s text in school as children as an exercise.

And what better film to start with than Sam Mendes’ Revolutionary Road, featuring the brilliant cinematography of Sir Roger Deakins?

This movie explores the clash of personalities and differing goals within a couple, as well as the pressures of conformity in suburban life.

Introduction

The first thing I’d like to mention is that it’s essential to watch the film before reading this analysis. Additionally, the French title is rather suspicious “Les Noces Rebelles” litterally the rebellious wedding.

By changing from “revolutionaries” to “rebels,” the characters have shifted from a positive to a negative example. This was not the intention of the original work but rather reflects the perspective of the French translators, who may have sought to introduce their own viewpoint.

Frame by frame analysis

The opening scene revealed the city of what we believe is New York City, since they are living in Connecticut and is accompanied by the soundtrack “The Gipsy” by The Ink Spots, which reflects a philosophy of living a life rich in experiences rather than focused on material possessions but also being a free spirit, following no rules but your own, creating your own path in life.

The opening frames of the film introduce us to the two main characters at night during a party. A strong contrast with the suburban life with kids. April is immediately presented as a distinguished woman, exuding elegance and a noticeable sophistication.

She is positioned at the center of the frame, yet subtly distanced from the others at the party, she has quite a bit of space for herself. This reflects her sense of being different from those around her. She is an aspiring actress so she isn’t interested by nature to be just anybody. You can also see that faces of people around her are directed towards her whereas for Frank some are looking away from him, giving unconsciously more attention and importance to April.

Frank, on the other hand, is fully immersed inside the party, easily mingling with everyone around him. This scene strongly reminds me of the introduction in Gone Girl, where Nick Dunne a regular Missouri guy attempts to charm Amy, seemingly aiming above his league. Yet, it’s worth noting that competent, straightforward, and moral men are often seen as the prize as long as they are willing to chase an ideal.

In this frame you can see that people are in front of him and on his back. Which makes a notable difference with April and makes him more accessible although he is a little bit hiding and holding on to a pillar and a bit of shadow is casted on him, perhaps meaning that he does not have a clear balance or identity yet at least when they are in the public crowd.

It’s also interesting to note that he’s the one looking up to her, while she simply acknowledges his attention and appreciates it.

Interestingly, this seemingly simple first conversation is quite honest and revealing about their personality differences. Frank shows little interest in discovering or pursuing his true calling, whereas that’s exactly what matters most to April. This brings to mind Nick Dunne, who had a laid-back personality as well and could still charm type A personality Amy with his lightness and humor.

Humor appears to be the most valued trait for cynics, while those with faith are more inclined to seek meaning instead. In this frame you can see that Frank has a higher and more prominent position with light on his face meaning that he is actually succeeding in charming April which is in the shadow at the moment. Later we will know that he is actually a smooth talker and a very good salesman.

To be fair, we later come to understand what drew April to Frank—his shared Gypsy spirit. He’s someone without a clear plan, simply wanting to explore and experience life, at least at this time.

By this time we understand that April’s basically fell for Frank, while dancing a looking at him with passion.

A few years later, with a sharp cut, we see Frank with a look of disappointment on his face after watching April perform in an amateur show.

I believe we’ll later realize that Frank’s look of disappointment is actually a reflection of shame—not directed at April, but at himself.

He failed to provide April with the opportunity to reach her full potential, instead trapping her in an environment and amongst people where she doesn’t truly belong.

Some might argue that April lacked the skills from the start, which could be true. But, to be fair, she was never given the right environment to truly give it her best shot, and she knows it.

This underlying resentment and the pretense of contentment lead to a passive-aggressive attitude toward Frank. Although he tries his best to comfort April, he never truly offers her a genuine opportunity to change her circumstances. Notice how if each face is slightly lid, they actually are separated and surrounded by darkness.

If a single frame could capture the entire story, it would be this one: two people sharing the same physical space, yet emotionally as distant as possible and suffering from it. I like that they are essentially in the middle of nowhere and in the dark which could physically represent the mental place they are in as a couple.

We’re then presented with a beautifully composed establishing shot of Frank Wheeler’s mundane routine within his environment.

It’s clear that he moves through his day without real motivation with the large house in the background highlighting the excess. After all, how many rooms does a couple with two kids truly need?

Establishing shots typically employ wide angles and JIB movements. Using a standard lens with creative techniques is truly indicative of an artistic vision but not only, here the focus is not particularly in him since this technic reduce his size but on all his material possessions, car and house while he is navigating through it.

Frank looks at the house with a realization that it doesn’t bring him joy and may not be worth the sacrifices he’s making. This scene closely mirrors the ending scene, which is fitting given that their days are so similar.

Don’t get me wrong; their house is absolutely stunning. Even the neighbors admire it, which likely influenced their decision to accept the trade-offs involved. But they almost became more important and prominent than him , look how we can barely see him. They’ve taken over his identity. Like Tyler would say in Fight Club, the things you own end up owning you.

The following frames resemble a game of “Where’s Waldo?” This imagery reflects the loss of identity that often accompanies having a conventional job. Everyone dresses alike, which is why conspicuous consumption was invented—so people could feign individuality.

Notice that Frank is one of the few who doesn’t look down at the newspaper, unlike others who gaze at it as if it were a phone screen. This might suggest that Frank is still somewhat not entirely disengaged.

Sir Roger Deakins goes so far as to avoid placing him at the center of the frame or lighting him in any distinctive way. He is portrayed as the quintessential anonymous everyman. Everyone wears muted colors, which adds to the scene’s overall plainness.

Again, if the camera is tracking him, it is only doing it at the last moment. You would really have to fight with your eyes to find him. He mirrors the position and attitude of the other extras, as he is one of them at this moment.

It’s also unusual to see a main character positioned to the side of an elevator without proper lighting. This suggests that, at this moment, Frank Wheeler isn’t even the central figure in his own life, which, while quite poignant, is a realistic portrayal for the majority of the population in real life.

Even when this new worker appears to have a crush on him, he seems somewhat taken aback by it, as if even he thought he was just like anybody else.

Interestingly, this next frame evokes a similar feeling to the scene in Gone Girl where Nick Dunne takes out the trash at the beginning, contrasting sharply with the earlier scene filled with journalists. Notice that the streets are absolutely empty of people or life compared to a city’s street.

In this scene, April reflects on the time she was first introduced to the house and how she felt charmed and delighted back then. This scene introduce us smoothly to Mrs Givings, a realtor which is played by Kathy Bates who played Molly Brown. So this is really a Titanic Reunion.

Mrs. Givings will later come back to help the Wheelers by planting a tree to hide some less appealing aspects of the house.

This scene reveals two things: April can adapt well to social life, even in the suburbs, and Mrs. Givings is concerned with appearances and the upkeep of the property she sold.

She ends up asking April for a favor, which is for the Wheelers couple to meet her son which has mental health issues.

After April agrees, she reminds her of how special she thought she was when they first met, a sentiment April had almost forgotten and that will give her back some hope. As you can see, she is framed within the doorway, with the glass resembling prison bars.

In the flashbacks to the beginning of Frank and April’s romance, their faces clearly appear more radiant, full of vitality, passion, and love, as Frank would describe it. Even their simple clothing appears less formal and note that at this time they are not boxed within a frame.

By using a variant of the over-the-shoulder shot, we can sense both of their presences, which enhances the sense of connection between them.

They seem to live in an apartment or to be in some hotel, looking a little bit like the one where Frank is having his affairs in the present.

Once again, we see a beautifully composed shot and a smooth transition to what will be the new assistant home, hinted at by the photos near the mirror. Both individuals depicted are therefore married and cheating on their respecting wife and husband.

It’s evident that this woman lacks the same elegance and presence as April; she comes across as a little mindless and unrefined in her attitude. This difference causes Frank some discomfort, leading him to want to leave quickly without being rude.

I believe Frank is also numbed by his current life and uses these affairs to reconnect with the person he was before he settled into his job at Knox. In this shot, Frank is also framed within the mirror, perhaps suggesting that he, too, feels trapped despite being in the city, seemingly free to do whatever he wants.

Frank arrives home late on his own birthday, wearing the same resentful expression as he surveys his surroundings. I believe he feels a mix of anxiety about facing the reality of his wife’s unhappiness and a sense of self-disgust for betraying his family. He still boxed by the windshield of his car.

When he arrives home, his wife welcomes him, dressed up and ready, with a surprise cake prepared to to celebrate with the kids. This movie is great at removing kids from the picture to make the main story about the couple. The house and the family represent light whereas everything outside is dark. April remains confined within the house; notice how she never steps in front of the car but stays inside instead like a prisoner restrained in her house.

Overwhelmed with a mix of emotions—touched and ashamed—Frank sheds a few tears, feeling as though he doesn’t deserve this surprise.

This scene strongly echoes Nick Dunne in Gone Girl, where he anxiously waits in the bathroom to confront his wife, feeling guilty and suspicious of all her seemingly pleasant behavior from a resentful wife. He’s still boxed inside a mirror.

April finally reveals her plan: to move to Paris for a fresh start, allowing her husband to discover his true passion and escape their delusional lifestyle where no one is genuinely happy.

Frank resists at first proclaiming these aren’t very realistic plans, but she retorque by saying that the only thing unrealistic is to believe they can still lead this life.

Frank eventually agrees, reminiscent of the man April once fell in love with. It’s often said that every man needs to reconnect with his inner child at some point.

Perhaps true confidence for a man is confidence in an unknown and unsafe situation, and perhaps for something to be worthwhile it needs to be difficult in the first place.

The days following this decision are reminiscent of when Tom entered a relationship with Summer in 500 Days of Summer.

Aside from being exceptionally upbeat, Frank regains the central role in his own life, now occupying the center of the frame and the elevator with the spot light on his face.

In contrast to his initial introduction to the workplace, where Frank appeared diminished by his repetitive and impersonal surroundings—looking straight at the floor as if trying to stay under the radar—he now stands out more prominently occupying more space within the frame and walking with his chin up.

This time, there are no over the shoulder shot like in the beginning where Frank and his co-workers had the same status as they are boxed in the same cubical.

This time, Frank feels distinct from the others. Even when he announces his plans to move to Paris, they dismiss it as a joke, assuming he’s talking about a trip to Vegas instead.

They are even separated by a physical barrier just to accentuate this difference of mentality between them. The central co-worker being the leader of the group who speaks the most and is wearing a bow tie perhaps as a technic to feign individuality.

Notice that this time Frank isn’t affected by their disbelief in his plans. At this moment, he is the master of his own fate, the captain of his soul.

During the break lunch with his co-workers, you can tell that they feel a little insulted by his decision which basically insinuate that they are gutless people.

He even has the audacity to tell them outright that they are where they are because they don’t know their true direction or purpose, which is borderline rude and cocky, since he is still working there for the moment after all.

As Frank returns home from work, he is now centrally framed and still. This allows him to start observing people and realize that he is breaking free from the societal machinery that once ensnared him.

I’ve had a similar experience when I was a tourist in Washington, DC, on a weekday while everyone else was working. I felt alive, blessed, and as though everything was up to me. This was free will, the ability to stop and live and enjoy the present moment as you please.

This time, instead of sitting like everyone else on the train with very symmetrical and repetitive lines, numbed by his daily routine and oblivious to his surroundings, Frank is standing, peeking out the windows, and smoking a cigarette, savoring his new point of view.

Notice how previously, no one seemed to pay much attention to their surroundings. You can clearly see this difference between the RER A in France, where people are heading home from work, and the Parisian Metro, where people are going out for an evening. Here Frank is still positionned inside a frame but on the edge of it almost joining the exterior of part of the frame.

The most striking moment is when he chooses to leave the train on his own accord before it stops, moving independently along the sidewalk rather than walking with the crowd or the flock in the first scenes.

I believe this is where we witness the happiest moment of Frank and April’s lives, filled with love and surrounded by their children. The future is looking as bright as it can at this moment, elevating the positiveness of their perspective on everything.

I would go so far as to say that their family can only be truly united and genuine if everyone’s needs are acknowledged and addressed. This also includes parents which are often sacrificing in modern society.

As previously noted, the kids don’t appear frequently in the film, but they are present during key moments for the family, and this is one of them. The children seem to get used to the idea and willing to try as well.

The Wheelers are getting ready to share the news with their neighbors, who have admired them in various ways. Although the house is situated downhill, it might as well be uphill, given that Shep Campbell, Milly Campbell’s husband, is in love with April—a woman who is likely considered exceptional compared to most women in the suburbs.

The Wheelers’ house, while similar, is larger and more beautiful, reinforcing the notion that they are “better” than their neighbors, though this superiority is only superficial. But this is enough to give us this hint of the famous keeping up with the Jones idiom.

An important detail to note is that the Campbell family has four sons, making it practically impossible for them to relocate far away due to the logistical and financial challenges involved.

This scene also highlights that family life isn’t always filled with positive and fulfilling moments; sometimes, children can be quite self-absorbed as well.

When introducing the news, you can tell that the Wheeler’s feel a bit awkward about justifying their decision to their neighbors.

It also makes them aware of the shortcomings in their plans, such as being a family with two children reliant on a single breadwinner—the wife which is quite an uncommon role especially in the 60’s.

This feels almost like an investigation. I believe many people have experienced discussing a somewhat “unrealistic” plan that only makes sense from the perspective of the person who has all the information.

The Campbell family show real signs of shared happiness for their friends, until they said they were goin to Paris to live not just for a vacation.

Similar to how the co-workers reacted, the Campbell couple finds this idea quite threatening, perceiving it as an affront to their current lifestyle. Imagine if the person with the best house in your street decided to move away because they believed they would be much better off elsewhere.

This is why it’s important to be cautious about whom you share good news with. While many people will support you when you’re down, not everyone will celebrate your successes if they feel it undermines their own achievements.

You can tell that Milly uses a defensive mechanism by patronizing them, referring to them as “kids.” This is her way of subtly diminishing them as mere dreamers.

As a general rule, you should avoid sharing news in a way that comes across as boastful, especially if it might make others feel inadequate. In this case, the Wheelers lack a bit of tact, but they still need to deliver their announcement.

This is precisely what occurs with the Campbell family. In this almost voyeuristic frame, you can see that Milly is deeply affected by the news.

Her distress stems not from missing the Wheelers, but from the way this decision undermines her own life choices, leaving her with a sense of “hopeless emptiness,” even if she won’t admit it. The frame is asphyxiating, Milly is literally trapped by the narrow frame within the frame of her own home.

In this scene, the Campbells are portrayed without makeup, appearing quite unflattering. Shep, in particular, looks out of shape, physically and visually positioning them as somewhat inferior to the Wheelers.

We can also see that the Campbells have been compelled by the Wheelers to confront a harsh reality, essentially being forced to take a long, hard look in the mirror and see that they are in fact unhappy which magnificently composed in this shot. This is unfair, especially since it wasn’t requested.

Meanwhile, the Wheelers remain dressed up and seem to take a certain satisfaction in their neighbors’ discomfort. It’s almost childlike, yet it reignites their own passion, which they indulge in shortly after.

Before this, Frank reflects on his time in the war, where, despite his fear, the experience made him feel truly alive and present. It was a real, vivid experience, because there was risk, reward was real. April is reminded of the Frank she fell in love with.

The moment arrives to meet Mrs. Givings’ son, portrayed by Michael Shannon. He plays a mathematician who has become unhinged. Though he appears deranged and unfiltered, he is far from being unintelligent, only people with high IQ can have a career in that domain. So on the contrary, he has a keen ability to grasp situations and read between the lines of what people say.

In this frame, the Wheelers, who are on cloud nine, dominate both the frame and their posture. There seems to be a definite separation of the two clans, almost as two teams in an argument really, although the father seems to be positioned in more passive and spectator-like pose as he is never the one asking any questions but just trying to stay pleasant.

While their guests seem to lead a somewhat resentful and sacrificed life due to their son’s disability, the Wheelers’ lives are currently on an ideal path which gives Mrs Givings the same treatment as the Campbell family.

For some reason, John, the son, appears pleased by the news and finds it amusing to see his mother feeling down, despite both parents displaying considerable self-control and wisdom, especially the father.

Mrs. Givings remains unfazed, even as her son taunts her, fully aware of her role as the queen of conformity. We will understand later that she is an hypocrite, using the narrative that fits her needs the best.

Although April finally has someone supporting her, she struggles to accept that he is both insane and rude. This may introduce a doubt in her mind that she could be living in denial.

She periodically glances at her husband to seek reassurance about the plan and to confirm her own sanity.

Fortunately, Frank is responding with perfection to the inquisitions of John and with grace and compassion which is definitely the type of man that is on the same level as April in terms of sophistication.

Her husband succeeds in making her feel secure and confident about their plan and their future, not just in terms of safety, but also from a logical and emotional perspective.

This news also provokes John, who begins to lash out at his parents to the point where Frank has to take him for a walk to get some fresh air. We then reach a scene where the famous line is uttered: the Wheelers are running from the “hopeless emptiness” of suburban life.

John responds thoughtfully with admiration, noting that while many people sense emptiness, it takes real courage to recognize the hopelessness part of it.

I believe he’s highlighting that while many people may sense the emptiness, not everyone has the courage to acknowledge that this way of living is a dead end that can only be fought by escaping it.

While the Wheelers are discussing to understand what just happened, and make sure they are not as insane as he is, April replies : “If being crazy means living life as if it matters, then I don’t mind being completely insane.”

This may be one of the last moments the couple shares a sense of unity and love, evident in their eyes. Notice how there is always a catch light in their eyes, reflecting the vitality of their souls.

Unfortunately for the Wheelers, several obstacles arise. First, Frank receives recognition and a promotion, both in terms of position and financial benefits, which he decides to play along for the time being.

Second, April becomes pregnant, complicating their plans to travel. Finally, Frank discovers that she has obtained an abortion tool shortly after they argued about his failure to resign from his current job.

This brings him back to reality, causing him to question the project’s feasibility, as no morally sound person would consider sacrificing children for it.

Unfortunately, Frank overlooks his wife’s needs and genuine distress, using moral absolutism to win the argument. He even goes so far as to make her question her own sanity. In my opinion, these were manipulative and insensitive tactics.

He says, “All I know is what I feel, and anyone in their right mind would feel the same way.” This is significant because he could also be addressing the issue of conformism. But since he feels sick from his stomach that could also be his moral as well.

The fact that he never attempted to offer a compromise reveals his fear and indicates that he’s truly closing this chapter of his life.

His posture—turning his back to April and crossing his arms—reveals that he has already made his final decision and ended any further discussion.

He clearly still cares about April, which is why he’s insisting they can find happiness here. Yet just a few days ago, he was arguing that nothing meaningful could ever happen inside a Knox building.

The fire within April, once reflected in the now-extinguished catch light, has faded—as if he extinguished her last remaining hopes.

At this point, Frank is fully aware of his actions and is anxious about how the situation will ultimately affect his wife. He watches his family outside the house this time but boxed again inside the window frames.

He again feels shame, guilt and perhaps a little bit powerless over his own circumstances. He can feel and predict that something will happen.

He officially accepts the promotion offer. Visually, it’s evident as he steps into Mr. Pollock’s office, framed by the glass door with Pollock’s name on it symbolically signing away his freedom and time to him.

Although he receives congratulations, they aren’t particularly warm. It seems more like a business transaction, in favor of Mr. Pollock viewing him as just another tool to generate profit, much like the company viewed his father. He essentially sold ownership of his life to Knox.

Frank is having lunch with his co-workers, and while the setting is essentially the same, this time he’s taking it in stride after being openly recognized as being wrong. He is the one who is looking down and they are the one with the grin on their faces.

Though his co-workers take a shot at his unrealistic plan, which clearly unsettles him, they still make an effort to cheer him up afterward.

Interestingly enough, it is as if Frank himself still know the truth, like his wife suggested : Everyone knows what it is however long they’ve lived without it. No one forgets the truth, Frank, they just get better at lying and still is in defensive mode.

The small group goes out again, and everyone appears to be pleased with the news except April, who, despite having her dreams shattered, has to feign enjoyment.

Pretending is especially challenging for honest people. Frank is genuinely enjoying himself, but once again fails to consider his wife’s feelings.

Notice how the three characters are spreading out and taking up as much space as possible, while April remains confined. Sometimes, you can be wrong and still win, that’s the sad reality of life.

Frank isn’t guilt-free nor oblivious; he can clearly see that his wife isn’t happy or celebrating. However, since he has already made his decision, there’s nothing more he can do. He still asks her to dance to lift her spirits, but she declines. Instead, Milly asks him to dance.

The upcoming frames will be perplexing, as they don’t benefit April’s character. She essentially betrays Frank by turning to Shep, likely to numb her own pain. In my opinion, this scene doesn’t make much sense because she doesn’t earn anything from it.

Returning to the Wheelers, Frank, hoping to reconnect with his wife who now resents him, confesses to his affair. However, this revelation no longer concerns April, as she has already lost all respect and love for him.

They start arguing while April has to prepare dinner for the Givings, which arrive and interrupt the argument.

Once again, April has to put on a facade, even pretending to be happy about her pregnancy when she’s not. Conformity is suffocating her spirit, and despite feeling crushed, she must continue to fake her emotions to maintain the image of her family.

It’s evident that these supposedly sane individuals are remarkably poor at reading non-verbal cues. They are so preoccupied with themselves and their self-image that they hardly take the time to understand others.

John appears genuinely upset by the news and is determined to find out who changed their mind. As usual, he correctly identifies the person and begins to confront Frank in a rude and inquisitive manner.

John is becoming increasingly agitated and starting to get on Frank’s nerves by highlighting his flaws in public. Frank treats John as if he were insane, which he is, but deep down, Frank knows John’s accusations are at least partially accurate, and that’s why they trigger him so much.

Frank becomes so agitated that he loses his calm demeanor, starting to curse and respond with hostility. Mrs Givings is trying to protect her son by mentioning that he is not well.

Frank retreats to another room to calm down, while John begins probing the flaws through April. She remains completely response-less, although it’s clear that the truth is affecting her deeply.

And while John is triggering Frank to the point of physical violence, Mrs Givings is again there to protect her son.

April is clearly disgusted by her husband’s behavior and feels deeply ashamed of the situation. Frank even without having a clear view on her face can already guess what she is thinking.

Finally, John delivers the final blow by stating that while he doesn’t have much to be happy about, he is at least glad not to be the baby. This remark resonates deeply with April.

The Givings family departs, and the Wheelers begin to argue about whether John’s analysis was accurate, which now seems evident.

Frank continues to deny the truth, hiding behind John’s mental health issues and offering his own definition of insanity as the inability to relate and love. This definition makes April laugh and mock him.

While the true definition is never provided, most people are familiar with Einstein’s quote: “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

Which is exactly what Frank is doing in this exact moment and what he is planning for him and his family to do for the rest of their lives.

April suggests that Frank is trying to blame her for no longer loving him, and warns that if he approaches her, she will scream. This only further provokes him.

Strangely, she appears to find satisfaction in provoking him, as her smirk suggests she isn’t entirely sane herself. In response, Frank insults his wife, calling her a shell of a woman and wishing she had already aborted—remarks that likely stem from his anger. But it’s definitely a point of no-return and Frank knows it.

April feels the need to go for a walk, which makes Frank follow her anxiously, because he feels like she could harm herself or make a terrible decision.

She needs some fresh air to clear her mind, so he eventually gives her space and waits for her to return all day. When he sees her outside smoking, she no longer exhibits the same elegance and sophistication she had when he first met her.

Perhaps Frank, or this life, has finally stripped away what was special about April, leaving her empty and devoid of personal identity.

This particular scene is very reminiscent of the end of the Shawshank Redemption as April is essentially deciding between Get busy living or dying and Frank just like Red knows it.

With music composed by Thomas Newman, the atmosphere feels strikingly similar. Frank eventually has to drink himself to sleep.

Frank wakes up in the morning, only to see what he might consider the ideal suburban wife he has always wanted. Frank looks suspiciously doubtful, Almost as if it is too good to be true. Perhaps this is April attempt at one last performance as an actress.

April, being an actress, fits seamlessly into the narrative of portraying the role of a good suburban housewife, even though she isn’t one.

This may be the most crucial dialogue in the entire movie: Does Frank want scrambled eggs or fried?

At first, he is unsure, reflecting his indecision between two lifestyles, and ultimately opts for the simpler choice.

In his defense, he might have intended to choose the option that was easier for her to prepare, to avoid causing her any trouble. Also more sophisticated or complicated isn’t always better.

However, it seems his expectations for her are tied to his own expectations of himself within their relationship and lifestyle.

I won’t delve into the upcoming scenes, as they are emotionally intense and difficult to watch due to their realism. Instead, we’ll focus on a few final frames: first, you see Milly recounting the Wheelers’ story to the new neighbors who have moved into their place.

Her posture reveals that she’s actually quite pleased with how things turned out, as it seems to have reinforced her own beliefs and boosted her confidence. She also sort of regain the center stage of her life. Shep who actually loved April, is devastated and slightly disgusted by his wife behavior, just wants to forget about them.

At the end of the movie you can see a similar composition of the happiest moment on Frank’s life but this time he is alone without April. Notice that even though it’s an outdoor scene in the afternoon, half of his face is in shadow, symbolizing that he will now always be incomplete. Note that the bench is quite long and that the second half of the bench which is empty seems to be larger than the one where he is sitting.

It’s evident that the chance for true happiness has long passed. The moment he chose to strip his wife of hope, he lost his “one chance” at a genuine life made out of passion. Now, he’s left to settle for a half-hearted smile, a half-lived life, and a diluted sense of happiness.

If that wasn’t enough, you can also spot a couple in the background in the full sun, almost as if to highlight what he’s missing right now to really be happy.

In the final shot, which isn’t necessarily clear in its intent, we see Mrs. Givings still criticizing the Wheelers even after their tragedy, a display that is obviously lacking in grace. And denyingly pretending that the new comers are a better fit.

Mr. Givings then turns off his hearing aid, as if to indicate that he isn’t that interested in what she has to say and he, too, gave up on his ideals and identity long ago, choosing instead to play along. Play along that Helen Givings is in a position to look down on these young couples, to reassure herself about her dominant position while she really has the exact same life.

His face is lit in a similar manner, perhaps suggesting that he, too, despite still having a wife, has given up the authentic part of his true identity in exchange of conformity and fakery. This isn’t just about the 1960s; it’s a pattern that repeats itself endlessly.

He is clearly no longer the main character in his own story, as he doesn’t even occupy the perfect center of the frame or the chair. He might be the “April” of the Givings family, but chose to suppress his true feelings about his wife in order to keep the family structure intact.

However, this indicates that he retains some integrity, as the catch lights in his eyes are still present. He is fully aware of his situation which is suburban misery.

Perhaps the only ones who briefly really rose above this lifestyle were the Wheelers. However, realism and conformism eventually caught up with them, pushing them into a half-hearted existence as well unfortunately.

Conclusion

Perhaps, there are truly only three types of people in the world: those who gave up trying, like John Givings; those who fake a fulfilling life, like the Campbell family or Helen Givings; and those who genuinely embark on an adventure, like the Wheelers might have.

This mirrors the dynamics of luxury goods. Celebrities who are really living the adventure are paid to endorse them, ordinary people buy and wear them to feel connected to the elite or to elevate themselves above their peers. Meanwhile, there are those who have resigned themselves from even pretending to care. I suppose the key question people should ask themselves to gauge their own position is : What are you interested in ?