Last Sunday night Barbara and I had a group of friends over for dinner. Discussion centered on “Unfaithful,” a current movie starring Diane Lane and Richard Gere. Everyone had strong feelings about the film. We were urged to view it soon.
Yesterday afternoon we saw “Unfaithful,” and reacted immediately to it, but not in a way we anticipated. The following comments are for readers either who have already been to this picture, or who don’t plan to watch it. If you intend to go to “Unfaithful,” wait until afterward to read these essays.
Like “In the Bedroom,” another celebrated recent serious adult drama, “Unfaithful” is over-rated. We should have read the reviews on Rotten Tomatoes before going, because we wouldn’t have bothered. Earlier this week we saw “Monsoon Wedding,” which was our most enjoyable movie in months.
From suburban routine to unplanned sexual affair to deceit to suspicion to unplanned murder to marital guilt to reconciliation, “Unfaithful” treads a familiar path without any strong character development. I don’t need to get my kicks watching people be naked or have sex in the movies, but we were anticipating the “real thing” from what our dinner guests told us. In fact, the most sensuous moment was when Constance (Diane Lane) was taking a bath by herself. Many of the “sex scenes” were too brutal for my taste, in this era of sensitive lovemaking.
Filming was first-rate, but story and direction by Adrian Lyne were not. The plot kicks into gear only when Edward (Richard Gere) becomes determined to dispose of his wife’s lover’s dead body along with all traces of Edward’s presence in the lover’s apartment. “Unfaithful” has some momentum from then until its “decision pending” finale, but not enough to reverse my opinion on the entire picture.
One dinner guest felt the story was improbable from a law-enforcement reality, but I consider that objection irrelevant. We’re talking about a movie, after all, not a reality show. Less probable for me was the family relationship between Constance, Edward, and their adorable, sensitive son, which felt hollow.
By coincidence, my articulate neighbor, Isidore Shapiro, had composed his own lengthy essay on psychological problems inherent to “Unfaithful,” which I submit in entirety. Your comments and rebuttal are welcome.
“UNFAITHFUL, ” starring Richard Gere and Diane Lane
This is an unusual movie with two gifted actors and an extraordinary director. I was disappointed at the moment Gere’s character, Edward, strikes the lover and kills him because it introduced melodrama in place of an evolving painful family drama. When Edward destroys all traces of his act and removes the body it is a desperate and unlawful act that shifts the film into a different human tragedy.
The emotional consequences are profoundly altered because it is manslaughter and not the discovery of an affair. If the story had remained within the context of jealous rage and the pain of social disapproval without death, the family recovery could take place over time. Even the impact upon the nine-year-old son would have been ameliorated within time after the initial shame.
Leaving the above observation aside and looking at the story as presented, I am impressed with the imaginative little signs that illuminate the character structures of each player.
Constance (Lane) is a fastidious and controlled woman. The scene of son Charlie’s urinating and his mother cautioning him to lower the toilet seat “after you finish” is the first clue. Then, after her fall and knee injury and using the book dealer’s bathroom, she is careful to keep her bare foot away from the toilet rim. We begin to understand how a person so contained can be swept up in an uncontrolled passion that obviously never found expression in her marriage. Why?
Edward too shows a warm but controlled man who also reveals powerful passion at moments in his work life with staff not up to par. A woman cannot be solely absorbed in her sexual gratification. Some reciprocal affection beyond sex must enter the dynamic. Otherwise, how to explain the gift to the lover of the snowflake music box given to her by her husband? Edward’s playfulness with this ornament in the beginning of the film lets us know that it will have a significant part in the rest of the story.
It is possible to read into this scene a broader social commentary about the manner in which suburban life inhibits emotional freedom. They are unable to give vent to flights of fancy and behavior that the book dealer represents. Frankly though, the use of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam’s poetry is adolescent romanticism and certainly not the stuff of real passion. It is an obvious seduction device that Constance responds too so naively and so tenderly.
Note should be made of certain significant scenes that illuminate the emotional struggles and guilt of the couple. The first is Edward’s question to Constance whether she loves him. That occurs soon after her sexual experience with the book dealer. While she affirms her love, she switches off the room light upon leaving his office and immediately turns it back on. A powerful gesture blocking out their vision of her act.
The second occurs during her bath when Edward joins her, reaching for sexual intimacy that is not fulfilled. She cannot betray her new intimacy. But it also reflects some inner integrity in Constance à she cannot be intimate with two men at the same time.
The book dealer is the sexual man who uses his good looks and obvious sexuality to gather in vulnerable or hungry women. Most men know and dislike as well as envy such men. Their gift is a romantic, sexual charge that appears genuine but is merely contrived and clever. The moment he sees Constance he senses a potential sexual conquest and he works hard at it. Constance, of course, perceives only the passion and attaches love to it. Is it fair to say that is the uniqueness of women’s psychology?
We see this so powerfully when she observes her lover kissing another young woman in the bookstore and attacks them. That leads to a powerful sexual scene with some brutality that highlights, in my view, Constance’s own need to feel overpowered in order to experience intense sexual pleasure.
The interchange between the lover and Edward is especially astute. The lover is not afraid although a bit wary of Edward and is somewhat contemptuous of him too. The sharing of a drink while appearing considerate is really an act between a loser and a winner. Edward did not need the drink. I think he used it as a delaying tactic because he was not really aware of how angry he was. As he says later in a rage to Constance, “I wanted to kill you.”
The casual conversation about the city and suburbs further reveals more of the lover’s contempt because it justifies his taking advantage of Constance’s need. It also adds fuel to Edward’s growing anger.
The lover then makes a terrible error in judgment when he casually explains Constance’s gift of the paperweight. This is the final step towards the murderous rage that escalates to homicide. The lover misinterprets the rapid breathing both because he is young and arrogant. Am I carrying an interpretation too far by contending that he is filled with hubris because of his good looks and that no harm would come to him?
The concluding scene at night where our couple, seated close together in their car outside a little police station in a New York State suburban village, convince one another that they will see this through. Movies today no longer require that a guilty person be punished either through an act of God or by law. Can they really put this behind them? What a burden to carry throughout one’s lifetime!
Isidore Shapiro
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