Before he hit the big screen, Sam Mendes helmed a play called The Blue Room that was dubbed "theatrical Viagra", as it featured Nicole Kidman in the pink. Mendes combines a hard edge with a soft touch in his motion-picture directorial debut, American Beauty--which could be called "cinematic Prozac" or "celluloid Valium." It's the ultimate harsh-reality wake-up call laced with colorful lithium.

Some directors still know how powerful film can be as a visual art form, and that it doesn't take Industrial Light and Magic to pull it off. From a simple high-school gym dance routine to close-up interior shots, you sense that Mendes treats every scene as an essential piece in a larger exhibit. With some recent work on Cabaret--an elaborately choreographed stage production--that's not a surprise. Beauty is the object of his direction, which fits perfectly with his intended movie message.

There's something about Kevin Spacey's voice to open a film. It's a peaceful, confident tone that makes you feel comfortable, even if what you're about to see isn't clear-cut. He's Lester Burnham, a dysfunctional family man in his early 40s, married to Carolyn (Annette Bening), ice-princess of real estate, and father to typical alt-teenage Jane (Thora Birch, the little girl from Paradise and the Tom Clancy films).

That seems normal to most of America, but goshdarnit, Lester isn't going to take that anymore. When he goes into a daze over Jane's friend Angela Hayes (Mena Suvari, a fine slice of American Pie), Lester feels invigorated enough to battle the suburban shithole.

Angela is the intangible babe in the bed of roses, the American booty--but new neighbor kid Ricky Fitts (Wes Bentley) provides the tangible solution with another popular plant. Soon, Lester gets high again and stops getting low on his life. He doesn't care where his job is shoved or where his wife shoves herself.

Ricky offers more than reefer and a beeper--he has no reason to be scared of anything, after surviving with a miltitary-freak dad (Chris Cooper) and a comatose mom (Allison Janney). He has found a way to enjoy life's simple beauty, even if he has to capture it on videotape.

Ricky succeeds in opening the eyes and heart of Jane after already doing the former for Lester. The title object of desire starts out as Angela, but eventually all the pretty ones can't be stars in this dope show. Some famous quoted person linked truth to beauty and with beauty, truth--having a nice house with a red door blows if you know you're in a predictable matrix of unhappiness.

Writer Alan Ball's previous work was all relegated to small screen; as creator of the new fall sitcom Oh Grow Up, he gives a glimpse of how he deals with major life-examination. In Beauty, Ball does a nice job of scrambling the eggs and trying to put the shells back together. There might be some few pieces missing at the end--some homophobic violence from Cooper's Colonel Fitts seems to throw the theme slightly off-course--but for the most part, Ball's yarn avoids becoming tangled.

More movies should have the theme of "your life might suck, but who are you kidding, it doesn't suck as much as it should." Forget those impropable feel-good romantic comedies--nothing makes me feel better than watching believeable characters go through more suffering than I ever would. They are believable thanks to Oscar-winner Spacey, Bening, Birch and newcomer Bentley, who deliver their best peformances in the crux-roles of the story.

It's worth mentioning again a big reason why this film really works: Spacey, otherwise known as the most talented thespian alive. It's the old baseball-team question--if you were starting a movie, who would you pick first? Oh yeah, Spacey. Mendes and Ball were rookies to the film game, so they went to veteran relief.

Spacey also isn't a stage stranger--he recently picked up his second Tony for "The Iceman Cometh." No other 40-year-old in Hollywood could carry Lester Burnham and take him to four-star promised land. He's the guy you root for to close the deal and have great exit scenes. Spacey better make some space on the mantle near his first Academy Award, because there's company coming.