Early on, I realized that the title, among so many other things about this movie, was meant to be sarcastic. It's obvious from the opening scene that there is not going to be anything even remotely related to the word beauty involved. In fact, had its creators been looking for a more descriptive straightforward title they could easily have come up with The Ugly American . After the initial shot of ugly, my brain, conditioned for such occasions long ago in the 60's and 70's, starts telling me that I will now have to switch into the late 90's, hip, nihilistic, black comedy mode. Then I remember, Whoops! I think my warranty on this mode ran out sometime during the 80's! The result is that now, when I'm faced with this brand of tripe I find it harder and harder to forgive the movie makers for several things. Number one, I can't forgive them for insulting my intelligence crud is crud even when it wins three or more Oscars. Number two; I can't forgive them for taking my money in exchange for this crud even if I did wait to see it at a cheap seats theater. Number three - and this is the big one - I cannot forgive them for their basic statement that because they have found yet another artistic witty, and original way to present crud and, in the process, also managed to convince a panel of lost souls that they deserved national recognition for it, that we should all grow up and thank our lucky stars that these forward thinking artists have given us something with which to be entertained, educated and dog-gone-it, perhaps shed yet another layer of that pesky morality thing that seems to keep popping up as it continues to die. In other words, if you're really with the times you will genuflect to the golden statue as you swallow this crud regardless of the fact that it stinks on ice. Pardon me while I get my gag reflexes under control. Unable to ever switch into the proper mode, it was easy for me to see the direction and ultimate destination of American Beauty . It starts out ugly, moves quickly into even uglier and ends with a violent, crashing, ugly grand finale which makes War of the Roses (Michael Douglas, Kathleen Turner) seem like a little, domestic squabble. Since viewers are treated to generous portions of perversion, violence, psychotic behavior, irritating teenage angst, pathetic mid-life crises, and a three-layer selection of dysfunctional families, there is a little ugliness for every age group and personal taste (or distaste). Add to this the fact that not one character in the entire film has even one redeeming characteristic or the ability to elicit the slightest bit of sympathy and you have yet another great reason to NOT go to the movie theater. 