‘House’ has sturdy foundation

Max Jacobson

Friday, Nov. 2, 2001 | 9:21 a.m.

At some point, most of us have the wish to rebuild our lives. The more tragic among us arrive at this conclusion after it is too late, but the wise find redemption wherever they can, even when time is rapidly running out.

"Life as a House" has all the elements of a maudlin tearjerker, but manages to strike a variety of resonant chords instead, offering a wheelbarrow full of useful life lessons. The film centers on middle-aged architect George Monroe (Kevin Kline), who gets the double whammy of discovering that he has lost his position in a firm after 20 years of service, and has contracted a terminal illness to boot.

Complicating matters further is the fact that he is estranged from Sam (Hayden Christensen), his rebellious, withdrawn son, and is still hung up on his ex-wife, Robin (a radiant Kristin Scott Thomas).

Monroe lives in a rundown shack on a magnificent ocean-view bluff, which is an eyesore to his sympathetic neighbors such as Coleen (Mary Steenburgen), who observes him urinating into the ocean during the film's opening sequence.

After George is terminated from his job he has a cathartic office tantrum, the likes of which most of us fantasize about at one time or another. Soon after he decides to tear down the shack he has long occupied and build a real house. The house is a thinly disguised metaphor for his life, and he enlists the help of his teenage son, who would rather swallow pills and listen to Limp Bizkit on his headphones than participate in any sort of meaningful activity.

As Sam, Christensen -- soon to be seen as a new-generation Anakin Skywalker in the next "Star Wars" film -- burns with a James Dean-like incandescence. This actor is going to be a major star for a long time, and his performance is always compelling, despite the fact that we don't quite believe the transitions his character makes over the course of one eventful summer.

Scott Thomas is wonderful as well. This actress has a porcelain-like fragility, and her character, remarried to an insensitive, absent achiever type (and has two cute, curious young sons to show for it), has clearly never totally let go of George, her first husband. Although she is both moral and practical in her approach to him, the overwhelming series of events that transpire draw them closer, and allows this actress to express an endearing sensitivity.

But it is Kline who carries the film. This veteran actor has remarkable range, whether called upon to be a farceur, a dramatic actor, a singer or a classical thespian. Kline is a Juilliard graduate who is every bit as comfortable doing Gilbert and Sullivan or Chekov as he is playing a role such as this. His performance, in turns angry, whimsical, noble, sad, resigned, defiant and eccentric, is a real tour de force.

Kline did all of his own stunts, including nosediving into the pounding surf from a considerable height, tumbling off a roof and stripping wood in the sunshine. As George he takes us on a spiritual journey from disaffection to enlightenment, "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" gone Hollywood. And in doing so, he manages to rescue more than a few lost souls beyond his own.

This isn't a perfect film. There are several superfluous plot devices, including a tired joke involving a dog continually doing his business on a hostile neighbor's lawn, and an illicit affair between a teenager and a hot-to-trot middle-aged mother.

There is also the sense that the scriptwriter is trying to cash in on the aesthetics of "American Beauty," which is a mistake since this script is as far from "American Beauty" as the law allows. That was a story about dysfunctional families and misplaced priorities; this film is about how love salvages a relationship, how order preempts chaos in the universe.

One more plus is the excellent cinematography of Vilmos Szigmond. Most of the film takes place on the scenic Palos Verdes Peninsula south of Los Angeles, a truly gorgeous place to live -- or, even in a dignified manner, to die.

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