Paid in Full (1950)

“You can build a career on being beautiful but not a marriage.”

If I watch a tearjerker, then I want a film that gives enough unabashed, glorious lurid melodrama that we can wallow in it. Douglas Sirk was the master at this sort of thing. Take Written on the Wind for example–an alcoholic playboy marries the woman who’s secretly loved by his best friend, and the best friend is the quarry of the playboy’s nympho sister. See what I mean? Tacky, tawdry, lurid and proud of it.

Get out your hankies for the 1950 melodrama Paid in Full which stars the marvellous Lizabeth Scott. Paid in Full is, strangely enough, based on the true story of two sisters: Jane Langley (Lizabeth Scott) and her younger sister, Nancy (Diana Lynn). The original story appeared in the May 1946 edition of The Reader’s Digest and was written by the doctor who attended both women. When the film begins, Jane is a career girl who works closely with Bill Prentice (Bob Cummins), and Nancy is a floor model, modelling expensive gowns she can’t afford. Nancy is despised by her co-workers who nickname her “the Duchess” for her airs and graces and the fact that she thinks she’s better than everyone else.

While Jane is obviously in love with Bill, he’s in love with spoiled nasty Nancy. The two sisters are contrasts in personalities. Jane is saintly, sweet, loyal and self-sacrificing and Nancy is selfish, materialistic, bitchy and immature. Since Jane raised Nancy after the death of their parents, Jane is more of a mother figure to Nancy than a sister, and unfortunately, when it comes to Nancy, Jane overcompensates for the lack of parents. The result is total indulgence. The two sisters have an unwritten creed: What Nancy wants, Jane gets for her.

Bill is so oblivious to Jane’s feelings for him that he discusses his relationship with Nancy, and even shows her the ring he plans to present to Nancy. Meanwhile, Nancy, who finds Bill dull and boring, has her eyes on a relationship with a millionaire. After being dumped by her wealthy beau, Nancy turns to Bill’s proposal with relief. While Jane (who according to Nancy has read too many “marriage manuals’) waxes on ecstatically about the glories and sacrifices of marriage, it’s clear that to Nancy marriage is a relationship in which she can be spoiled, ‘made happy by her husband’, and when she can finally buy all those dresses she’s modelled for other people. Already things don’t look good for the Prentice marriage.

Jane stays in the wings as bitchy Nancy uses and abuses Bill, but he takes whatever she dishes out, until she demands a divorce. The best scene in the film occurs with Nancy sitting in front of her dressing table while Bill finally tells her what an abominable excuse for a woman she is.

But these are the melodramatic moments of Paid in Full. There are also the tearjerker points with the theme of motherhood as a redemptive state.

Lizabeth Scott glows in the role of Jane. When she looks at Bill, her entire face illuminates with love, but he’s such an idiot, he doesn’t recognise her feelings. Actually I think he does sense Jane’s adoration, but he chooses to ignore Jane’s feelings because part of him wants to be a doormat. Bill wants a woman he can put on a pedestal and worship–or at least he thinks he does. Several excellent scenes show just how Nancy plays Bill, and these scenes show their relationship at its best and at its bitter worst.

Bitchy nasty Nancy is played well, and I particularly loved the scenes of her modelling job and then her former employer’s revenge.

The film’s biggest problem is the insertion of male authority figures: Dr Winston (Stanley Ridges), a lawyer friend of Bill’s and a psychiatrist who appears towards the end of the film. While the two male doctors deliver sanctimonious lectures to the females in the film, the lawyer friend of Bill’s tells Bill that Nancy is seeking a divorce. What happened to confidentiality? These male authority figures dampen the melodrama and move the film away from its tawdry lurid depths. I prefer more drama and less lectures. Plus then there’s poor Bill–a man who’s used as a sperm donor by these two women while they play ping-pong with his heart. If Bill were in his right mind, he’s wish he’d never set eyes on these sisters in the first place.

For fans of Lizabeth Scott, Paid in Full is a must-see. While Scott’s best role (for me) is Too Late For Tears, she does an excellent job as Jane and the role as it is written. Personally, I would have loved to see the film with both sisters as evil, scheming bitches.

From director William Dieterle

Sidewalks of New York (2001)

“We’ll put that romantic crap to bed for once and for all.”

It’s impossible to watch Sidewalks of New York without realizing that the film is either a homage to, or derivative of, Woody Allen. But that doesn’t make Sidewalks of New York a bad film, and if you’re a Woody Allen fan, you may find yourself enjoying the film more than you thought.

Similar to Woody Allen’s brilliantly funny Husbands and Wives, Sidewalks of New York also examines male-female relationships, infidelity, and marriage through a handful of characters. And as in Husbands and Wives, during Sidewalks of New York, from actor/writer/ director Edward Burns, scenes also segue to interviews in which the characters are asked key questions regrading their personal relationships and their attitudes towards sex, love and relationships.

Sidewalks of New York begins with Tommy (Edward Burns) engaged in an argument with his girlfriend. After being thrown out, he moves in temporarily with middle-aged Lothario, Uncle Carpo (Dennis Farina) and then tries to find a new apartment. He uses real estate agent Annie (Heather Graham) who’s married to cheating dentist Griffin (Stanley Tucci). Griffin’s self-confessed “European attitude to marriage” has him in an affair with scrappy waitress Ashley (Brittany Murphy). Ashley is doggedly pursued by doorman/future rockstar Ben (David Krumholtz). Ben was married to teacher, Maria (Rosario Dawson).

The interconnected relationships between these careening characters are explored with humour, but honestly Dennis Farina as Uncle Carpo steals the film, with Stanley Tucci coming in as a close second. The all-too brief scenes with Farina are hilarious. Carpo’s advice to the love-lorn Tommy: “Nothing heals a broken heart like a brand new piece of boodie”  is enough to screw up a man for the rest of his life, for while Carpo thinks he knows all about women, his approach to women might have worked in the 50s but it’s too out-of-style to work in the 21st century:

“I’m an animal. I’m twice as vital as any married man 1/2 my age. I’ve had sex with with over 500 women, and I’ve left them all baying at the moon.”

The weakest part of the film is Maria’s relationship (such as it is) with Tommy. She is the sketchiest drawn character of the lot. Heather Graham just doesn’t cut it as Griffin’s wife, and since she is a main character, this is unfortunate. Here as Annie, she delivers her lines to Griffin with a little smile that sometimes just seems out of place, but she seems much more at ease in her scenes with Burns.

Irina Palm (2007)

“Can you wank me off?”

Years ago, I took a philosophy class in which the instructor delighted in creating moral dilemmas for the students to mull over. “Is it alright to steal?” he’d ask, and after the students gave a resounding “NO!” he’d come back with the question, “what if you are starving? What if your children are starving?” This generated some lively debates, but more than that, it made us all think. Some students, however, could not handle the gray areas of morality, and would become downright annoyed with the moral scenarios presented in class–as if the instructor was cheating somehow.

Anyway, these memories came to mind when I watched the entertaining film, Irina Palm directed by Sam Garbarski and starring Marianne Faithfull. The film’s premise is simple: Maggie (Marianne Faithfull) is a 50-year-old widow who lives in a small village. Maggie doesn’t come across as a particularly happy person. Rather she seems to just exist, but then again, she doesn’t have much to be happy about. Her small grandson, Ollie (Corey Burke) is hospitalized and dying from a terminal disease. She’s had to sell her home to Jane (Jenny Agutter)–a snotty bitch who loves to patronize Maggie while parading her behaviour as ‘friendship.’

A small glimmer of hope appears in the form of an offer of pro-bono experimental treatment in Australia. The problem is MONEY. Somehow, Ollie’s parents Tom and Sarah (Kevin Bishop & Siobhan Hewlett) have to come up with enough money for the airfare and hotels during their stay. Maggie has already sold her house to help; there’s nothing left to sell.

Despondent and desperate, Maggie heads to London. Wandering into Soho, she sees a sign offering employment for a ‘hostess.’ Maggie steps into the tawdry “Sex World” where she promptly discovers from the club’s taciturn owner, Miki (Miki Manojlovic) just what a ‘euphemism’ is when he explains what a hostess actually does. At this point, Maggie seems wildly out-of-place inside the club. She’s dumpy, middle-aged and wrapped up in a coat–contrast this to the lithe, naked, and bejeweled bodies of the pole dancers, and well…you come to the conclusion that Maggie’s out-of-her-depth.

But Miki sees something in Maggie. Does he think she’s dependable? Does he recognize that perhaps maturity brings a certain patience? Who knows. The film doesn’t clarify the point, so it’s left for the viewer to speculate why Miki hires Maggie on the spot. Her job: she’s the club’s wanker, and that’s what she does to earn money. It would spoil the film to tell you what happens in the club–let’s just say that Maggie has already crossed one boundary she thought she’d never face, but in her new career, she does discover her moral limits.

I told a few people about Irina Palm. One person shrieked, “well that’s one thing I know I’ll NEVER do,” while someone else thought the film had an interesting premise. I think the film is fascinating, and its very point seems to be that here’s this middle-aged woman chosing to do something she thought she’d never do. Maggie thinks that life has nothing else to offer, but adversity changes all that. The plot certainly generated some lively discussions around my house.

The film has some great touches of humour. However, that said, let’s not forget that the sex industry includes a great deal of depersonalization. The film sugarcoats this aspect of things, making SEX WORLD a far nicer, less threatening place for Maggie. While I enjoyed Irina Palm , somehow I can’t help but imagine the film rewritten with no grandchild for Maggie to save. I suspect this would have been a much more interesting, and challenging film if Maggie had been a character who wanked for a living–but without an ‘excuse.’

Days and Clouds (2007)

 “We kept living as though nothing had happened.”

The excellent Italian drama Days and Clouds (aka Giorni e Nuvole) charts the disintegration of the marriage of an affluent middle-aged couple as their fortunes change for the worse. When the film begins, the very attractive Elsa (Margherita Buy) has just completed a long-held ambition to graduate from art school, and her husband, Michele (Antonio Albanese) gives her a pricey pair of antique earrings and throws a surprise party. But all this appearance of wealth is a façade. The party is over quite literally when Michele reluctantly reveals that he’s now unemployed and has been for months. A former company director, he’s been squeezed out by his partners as part of a restructuring move. Elsa is flabbergasted to learn that there is hardly any money left to pay the bills, and that their lifestyle must change radically. Blindsided by the news, she tries to gauge just how bad things are.

The film follows exactly how this couple copes with the many changes they must face, and there are moments when they are both in denial about the severity of their financial crisis. Elsa has no idea how much their monthly expenses are, and so she must rapidly learn some of the very basic facts about their finances before even beginning to make plans. Michele, on the other hand, has a very difficult time accepting that he can’t pick up the check for all of his friends at the expensive restaurants they habituate. Shame soon leads both Elsa and Michele to cut themselves off from their friends as they sink from their affluent lifestyle to a working class environment without fancy vacations, pricey wines or valuable antiques.

Director Silvio Soldini explored the dynamics of a marriage in trouble in his film Bread and Tulips, but in that film, the wife exploits an opportunity to run away. Not so in Days and Clouds where Elsa tries sticking to her marriage even as her formerly good relationship with Michele disintegrates as the money pressures mount.

As the couple loses their material possessions, Elsa markets her job skills and puts her art restoration interests on hold, working two jobs. Meanwhile, Michele discovers that no one wants to employ a middle-aged executive. This all raises questions: was their marriage “happy” because it was coated with affluence, or is their relationship stressed solely to financial pressures? To exacerbate the situation, it’s also quite clear that once Michele is stripped of his ability to earn a living, on many levels, his wife vastly outclasses him.

The film raises some intriguing issues, but while these issues appear for our scrutiny, they are not dissected and analyzed. For example, as the money pressures mount, we begin to wonder if Michele was really ‘protecting’ Elsa by keeping her in the dark about their financial situation, or if this was just one part of his continuum of denial. Through the course of the film, it becomes apparent that perhaps Michele contributed to his own downfall–certainly his ex-business partners think so.

Days and Clouds includes some simply marvelous touches, the acting is superb, and this is one of the best (and most painful) depictions I’ve seen of the decline of an upper middle class family. This is yet another wonderful film from Film Movement, and Days and Clouds is August’s selection for their DVD of the month club. For more information about Film Movement or to join the club, go to www.filmmovement.com

The River King (2005)

“You see things you thought were clues. Turns out they weren’t.”

Set in the frozen landscapes of a wintery Haddan, Massachusetts, The River King casts actor Edward Burns as small town policeman Abel Grey. Abel and his partner are called out to investigate a report of a body found in a frozen lake. The body is Gus Pierce, a student from an exclusive prep school located on the outskirts of town. Gus was a loner who never really fit in, and his one close friend was fellow student Carlin Leander (Rachelle Lefevre). Teachers at the school, with the exception of Betsy Chase (Jennifer Ehle) act as though the police investigation is a nuisance. But to make matters worse, Abel is railroaded into accepting Gus’s death as a suicide.

I like Edward Burns. Can’t explain it, but there’s just something about his screen presence. His performances are sincere and believable, but apart from that he is one of America’s directors who’s still trying to say something outside of the Hollywood machine. In The River King, Burns is excellent, and the fact that the story is told through his troubled eyes bolsters the film tremendously. With a subtle and typically low-key performance, Burns conveys discomfort and nagging doubts throughout an investigation marred by class and corruption. The film slides into clichés when uncovering the nasty little frat boy initiation ceremonies, but then that sort of silliness is clichéd no matter how you look at it.

While corruption rules, and an old-boy network effectively ensures that cover-ups continue, the film slides away from the less subtle predictability of plot, and instead lands squarely on the issue of the weight of guilt. Guilt and its long-term consequences lead Abel to make a decision, and whether or not he has the ‘right’ to make this decision is at the heart of this beautifully photographed film. Incidentally, the photography is from Paul Sarossy (The Sweet Hereafter and Affliction). Frozen landscapes covered in snow and sub-zero temperatures reflect some of the characters’ frozen emotions. Both Abel and his father carry a burden of guilt, but they refuse to examine it and they have chosen to ignore it for various reasons. The death of Gus Pierce, however, forces Abel, at least, to confront his guilt and grief over the death of his brother.

As it turns out, there’s a significance to Abel’s first name, and this is an issue the plot chooses not to explore directly, but the subtext exists for those who catch the Abel/Cain connection. The River King wisely leaves this reference and its inferences for the audience to catch. Supernatural elements are also weaved through the story, but again, this is delicately done, and so we never really know if these moments really exist or are simply ghosts of the past.

Abel’s final decision is beautifully played, and I couldn’t help but compare this to the preachy deliverance of a fateful decision in Ben Affleck’s film Gone Baby Gone. Towards the end of Gone Baby Gone, Casey Affleck and Morgan Freeman hash out their respective moral positions ad nauseam in a scene that’s unbelievable, heavy handed and far too lengthy. The River King leaves the moralizing and the argument as to whether or not Abel has the ‘right’ to assume the responsibility of his actions to the viewer. Director Nick Willing obviously thinks his audience is intelligent enough to work out the intricacies of Abel’s behaviors for ourselves. Personally I prefer subtlety, and so I appreciate The River King’s low-key style, even if it has a less-than perfect story. Based on a novel by Alice Hoffman.

The Leading Man (1996)

 “I could seduce your wife.”

The Leading Man is a tasty little drama set in London and centered on the marriage of playwright Felix Webb (Lambert Wilson). As the film begins, Webb is helping cast roles for his new play, and he’s secretly having a passionate affair with young talented actress Hilary Rule (Thandie Newton). Meanwhile, his neglected wife Elena (Anna Galiena) sniffs something’s afoot, and this results in increased tension at home while Felix juggles the demands of wife, mistress and new play.

Enter American actor Robin Grange (Jon Bon Jovi). He’s left Hollywood with the intention of working in theatre, but he still draws crowds of fans, autograph seekers, and potential groupies. His good looks, charisma and direct approach to women prove to be a deadly combination, and the women in the cast speculate over his talent as a bedmate. Hilary, however, isn’t interested in Robin. She’s too busy pressuring Felix to leave his wife.

Robin is a complex character. He appears to be just another pretty face, but it’s not long before he makes it clear to Felix that he knows about the affair with Hilary. Dropping hints here and there, Robin seems to be playing a strange game of cat-and-mouse. And then Robin proposes an unexpected solution. He suggests helping Felix by seducing Elena. Asserting that this is the best solution for everyone, Robin smoothly argues the case for seduction stating that a love affair will give Felix some needed space, restore Elena’s confidence and show her that Felix isn’t so necessary after all.

This bizarre turn of events is intriguing. After all, the role of cuckolded husband isn’t exactly enviable. Even adulterous husbands generally don’t want some other man sniffing around the old homestead. But while Felix is at first appalled by Robin’s suggestion, he concedes to the strategy.

The Leading Man reminds me of the domestic politics of a Woody Allen film, but without the comedy–although there are elements of dark humour. The film works so well largely due to the ambiguity of Robin’s motives. Is he malicious or ambitious? Is he truly interested in Elena, or is he out for what he can get? Ultimately this decision is wisely left up to the audience.

I read some criticisms of Jon Bon Jovi’s performance, and this seems unfair. He did an excellent job as the amoral, slippery Hollywood actor who possesses amazing powers of duplicity. This entertaining drama is from director John Duigan.

Arranged (2007)

“I would like you, because you are very attractive, to serve me.”

I recently joined the Film Movement’s DVD of the month club. It’s a great idea. You subscribe for a specific amount of time, and then Film Movement sends a DVD a month–a foreign or independent film. Where I live, the local cinema only plays 10 shades of Disney or the latest Hollywood extravaganza. So for me, signing up for a monthly new release (not yet available commercially) that costs less than the price of a couple of cinema tickets is a wonderful deal. Plus throw into the pot the idea that I like the titles chosen by the Film Movement.

So this brings me to Arranged. This would not have been a film I would have selected because it sounds so clichéd, but it arrived in my letterbox, and since I paid for it, I decided to get my money’s worth and watch it. I’m happy to say that Arranged is a surprisingly sweet and refreshing film that centers on the unlikely friendship between two young New York teachers–an orthodox Jew and a Muslim.

See what I mean about sounding clichéd? But in spite of this, the film manages to rise above clichés, and instead the film offers a different perspective while maintaining freshness and a simple realism.

Written and directed by Diane Crespo and Stefan C. Schaefer, the story revolves around orthodox Jew Rochel (Zoe Lister Jones) and Syrian Muslim, Nasira (Francis Benhamou). They meet in a teacher’s training session where they both stick out as different from the rest of the teachers. While the other teachers introduce themselves with juicy, and usually inappropriate icebreakers, both Rochel and Nasira have nothing grimy to share. They both live at home with their loving, religious families and neither girl has a boyfriend.

Rochel and Nasira don’t fit in with the other teachers, and even though they may have very different religions, they share common values. While everyone else (workmates and family members) is uncomfortable with Rochel and Nasira’s friendship, the two young girls are increasingly drawn to each other for moral support.

Both Rochel and Nasira are marriageable age, and their families begin searches for suitable husbands. Each family has its own approach to the idea of arranged marriage. While Rochel’s orthodox Jew mother takes the initiative, Nasira’s father lines up suitable men for his daughter. Arranged has its moments of gentle humour which are found in the preposterous dates forced upon Rochel. It’s interesting to see that Nasira’s Muslim family is a bit more open to listening to their daughter while Rochel’s mother ratchets up the guilt to ensure her daughter’s cooperation.

Arranged is so enjoyable and works mainly because the relationship between Rochel and Nasira makes sense. The audience understands this perfectly, even though fellow workmates and family don’t understand at all. As for characters–some were very believable–especially the school administrator–a woman who sees Rochel and Nasira as suffering from mental shackles, and she is unable to see that they have been raised in loving environments and both Rochel and Nasira simply want to replicate that. Interestingly enough, Rochel’s rebellion occurs when she senses that she won’t get what her parents have (a loving marriage), but instead is pressured to compromise in choosing a husband.

The film is overly optimistic. The schoolchildren are angelic and cooperative, the husbands dashing and kind. To my jaundiced eye, I seriously doubt that all arranged marriages end as happily as the film depicts them, but I do think the film’s emphasis on shared values–in marriage and in friendship–is spot on.

For more on Film Movement: www.filmmovement.com

Picture Bride (1994)

“See the real paradise.”

The film Picture Bride is a simple story of Riyo (Youki Kudoh), a young Japanese girl who travels to Hawaii in the early 1900s to meet her new husband, Matsuji (Akira Takayama). This is an arranged marriage, and both parties are required to show the photographs they have of each other to the authorities as a means of identification. Unfortunately, Matsuji’s photo is about 20 years old, and Riyo is shocked when she meets her husband for the first time. While the wedding goes on as planned–Riyo doesn’t actually have much choice here–the marriage begins on a very shaky footing.

Riyo’s frail appearance belies her strong, determined character. From the moment she arrives at the sugar plantation where she is to work as a field labourer, she decides to start saving money to pay back her husband and eventually return to Japan–and this isn’t easy earning just pennies a day from back-breaking labour. Riyo meets and befriends Kana (Tamlyn Tomita) who earns extra money by taking in laundry. Riyo soon assists Kana and starts hoarding money for the trip home. Their friendship ameliorates Riyo’s loneliness but does little to improve relations with the well-meaning, kind Matsuji.

Apparently, more than 20,000 women travelled to Hawaii as ‘picture brides.’ Riyo’s story is just one of many, but no doubt, her experiences mirror the experience of picture brides in general. Conditions in the sugar cane fields were harsh and sometimes hazardous, but the film also emphasizes that a racial hierarchy exists in the sugar plantation–as badly as the Japanese were treated by the European overseers, Filipinos appear to be treated even worse. It seems ironic at best that thousands of people found themselves as dis-enfranchised labourers in a part of the world that is so idyllic. Living in paradise does not bring happiness or even contentment; happiness is an inner state, and the story illustrates this effectively. Fans of Toshiro Mifune will be pleased to note that he makes a brief appearance as a travelling entertainer. The film includes many scenes of breathtaking beauty, but by far the most memorable is the scene in which paper lanterns are placed on the river to remember the dead. Directed by Kayo Hatta.

Man Push Cart (2005)

The Bono of Lahore

Man Push Cart, from director Ramin Bahrani is a simple tale heavy on gritty realism that portrays the daily life of Pakistani immigrant, Ahmad (Ahmad Razvi). Ahmad’s grueling routine begins in the early hours on the dark streets of New York as he collects his food cart stored in a warehouse. He then drags the cart through traffic until he reaches his regular corner, and here he sells bagels, coffee, cream cheese and soft drinks. At the end of the day, he hauls the cart back, returns to his hovel of a room, sleeps a few hours, and the next day begins the process all over again.

Ahmad’s Sisyphus routine is supposed to have a goal. He makes payments on his cart with the idea in mind that one day he’ll own it free and clear, and no doubt linked with that is the idea that he’ll be an independent businessman and own a piece of the pie. Perhaps Ahmad is thinking that once the cart is paid, an uphill climb to success will replace the monotonous, endless grind that seems to get him nowhere.

Ahmad is a widower with a small son and hostile in-laws who blame him for his wife’s death. We don’t really know what happened to Ahmad’s wife, but over time, we discover that Ahmad was a famous pop star in Pakistan. In New York, his relationships are limited to casual greetings called out to fellow workers or customers, and at times his alienation seems to be something he chooses. During the course of the film, a few opportunities land in Ahmad’s direction. There’s the possibility of a romance with a young Spanish girl, Noemi (Leticia Dolera) and fellow Pakistani, Mohammed (Charles Daniel Sandoval) offers Ahmad some extra work.

Not a great deal happens in the film, but that doesn’t stop Man Push Cart from being a small masterpiece of detail and characterization. The plot flirts with elements of hope and love, but lands squarely on reality and realism; there are no Hollywood tricks here–just craftsmanship and an eloquent attention to detail.

Unfaithful (2002)

The Art of Seduction-Beware the man who quotes poetry!

In Unfaithful Connie Sumner (Diane Lane) is married to busy, distracted husband, Edward (Richard Gere). He owns a security company which occupies a great deal of his time, and she is the housewife who maintains the beautiful house in the country, and juggles such stressful issues as fundraising, and car-pooling their only child.

On a shopping expedition in New York, circumstances lead Connie to bump into Paul Martel–literally. He is young, looks like a male model, and cashing in on his French accent, he invites Connie into his bachelor lair. Connie is a bit naive–that’s obvious, but even she cannot completely ignore the flagrant messages Paul sends her way. Paul, who claims to be a bookseller, offers to give Connie a small souvenir of their chance encounter. When he directs Connie to a particular book shelf, to a specific book, gives her the page number to turn to, and then starts quoting poetry, it’s quite clear that Paul isn’t quite the innocuous bookseller he claims to be, but rather he is a practiced seducer. But it’s too much too fast, and Connie exits–runs is a closer description.

Connie can’t forget Paul, and soon thoughts of his physicality invade her everyday domestic life. Connie returns to Paul with some flimsy pretense to explain their renewed contact. A game of cat and mouse ensues, and by degrees, Connie begins her slippery slide to adultery. She is too tantalized and mesmerised by Paul to think of little else, ignores all the warning signs, and doesn’t stop to seriously consider the consequences of her actions. Soon it becomes obvious to her husband (his area of expertise is security, remember) that Connie is distracted by something–or someone.

This was the best role I have ever seen Richard Gere play, and Diane Lane (one of my favourites) was simply incredible. This film really does a spectacular job of laying the foundations of human nature with the three main characters, Edward, Connie and Paul. Connie has everything a woman is supposed to want–a loving devoted husband, financial security, a beautiful home etc., but she’s on a tedious, boring, treadmill, and she has the looks, means and the time to get in trouble. Edward is busy–too busy–providing all those goodies for Connie. He makes the mistake of being a husband and a provider rather than a lover, and while he vacates this role, Paul is happy to take it. The film displays the culture of adultery unflinchingly. Connie discovers that small attentions from a complete stranger are seductive and outweigh complete devotion from her spouse. There is an evitability in this film which parallels the inevitability of Connie’s submission to Paul’s practiced, subtle assaults. While the film doesn’t make any overt moral statements against adultery, nonetheless, it does illustrate the incredible pain, futility, and destruction suffered by all those involved, and the film remains one of the best statements I’ve ever seen on the subject. Unfaithful is a remake of the Claude Chabrol film, La Femme Infidele, and while I liked the French version, this is a rare instance in which I prefer the remake. From director Adrian Lyne.