Rent Pleasantville (1998)

Greyscale Morality, Technicolor Metaphor - Pleasantville review by griggs

On the surface, it’s all soda fountains and sock hops. But beneath Pleasantville’s glossy black-and-white shell lies something far thornier. The film presents itself as a parable of repression and personal awakening, with colour seeping in as characters discover art, desire, and dissent. It’s clever, up to a point.

As townsfolk begin policing who’s “in colour” and who isn’t—banning books, smashing windows, and enforcing curfews—the parallels to 1950s authoritarianism are clear. But while the film borrows the language and tactics of segregation-era America, it avoids any direct engagement with race. The town is conspicuously white, making its civil rights allegory feel oddly hollow. For a film about expanding perspective, the view stays curiously narrow.

There’s charm in places—Jeff Daniels’ timid artist, Joan Allen’s quiet defiance—but it ends up feeling more like a concept than a conviction. Pleasantville wants to colour outside the lines but never quite picks the right brush.