On the heels of the cynical, yet Award-winning “American Beauty” comes this next attack on suburban life. Sensitive, but often amusingly macabre, “The Virgin Suicides” tells us that the family religion (here, Catholism, but I think the producers see any religious upbringing as antiquated) offers no comfort for adolescent angst. And if a boy thoughtlessly uses a girl and doesn’t call her the next day, well, why go on. Although the mother is a bit hard on rock-and-roll albums (she makes her daughter destroy them) and Dad’s a dim bulb, the parents are not portrayed as abusers of the girls in any way. They just don’t seem to connect with the secretive mind of the ‘90s teenager. The rapprochement of suburban life has some merit. If the attaining of the right house, the right job and the perfect-looking family becomes the ultimate goal, there will indeed be a smoldering dissatisfaction. We are mental, physical and spiritual beings. To deny a true fulfillment of the soul will keep the heart from ever knowing true peace. But is that what the filmmaker is saying? I’m not sure. It is a sad film that doesn’t answer any questions. All too often filmmakers think they have done their duty by merely raising questions.