Inception

At one point during Inception, you find yourself stuck with the other characters in a dream inside a dream, inside a dream, inside a dream. And there’s no guarantee that they (and thus, you) will find a way out, back into the “real world”—whatever that is. But I’m getting ahead of myself. First, the story.

Expert dream thief Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) has mastered the art of extracting material from the subconscious of his sleeping victims. However, when he is hired by successful industrialist Mr. Saito (Ken Watanabe), it isn’t to steal information, but to plant a self-destroying idea into the mind of Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), the heir to Saito’s arch business rival. Though challenging, the prospect is tempting—for Saito has also offered Cobb, on successful completion of the job, his only chance to return home to his children after being on the run due to accusations that he murdered his wife, Mal (Marion Cotillard).

Painstaking preparation by a carefully-assembled team of a forger, chemist, and an architect result in spectacular creations of Fischer’s subconscious worlds. Yet, continually haunted by the memory of Mal and her ability to manipulate his mind, Cobb repeatedly risks sabotaging their meticulous plan; he must learn to navigate his own dreams and realities as the ghost of his elusive past threatens to destroy not only the operation at hand, but Cobb himself.*

Despite knowing next to nothing about special effects (and honestly, rarely caring about them) it would be blasphemous of me to recap Inception without mentioning some of its technological feats. With a zero-gravity, Matrix-like fight scene which has Joseph Gordon-Levitt running (floating?) down spinning hallways, a freight train hurtling down the middle of the street amidst speeding cars, and a sequence in which the entire city of Paris seems to be folding in on itself, it’s hard not to get caught up in the excitement of it all. As the effects are part of the dream worlds that have been constructed by Cobb and his crew, Nolan has the license to make them as mind-blowing as he wishes. Yet he is careful not to exploit this allowance; rather than frivolous, self-indulgent spectacles, they are functions of their subconscious contexts, making it much easier for us to believe in them without scoffing at their improbability.

So much of this film focuses on explaining the logistical and temporal details of invading dreams and convincing us of the credibility of their endeavor, that the sheer complexity of the plot and devotion to special effects compromises character development. Usually for me, no amount of exploding sidewalks and snowy avalanches will compensate for lack of well-developed leading roles. Yet, here is one of those— rare— films that didn’t necessarily need to devote a great deal of time to fleshing out its principal characters to keep us invested**; as the only emotional relationship that really matters is that between Cobb and Mal, superfluous details about the backgrounds of the others may actually have been a hindrance rather than an enhancement to the film’s tempo.

This isn’t to say that the cast doesn’t deliver. The ensemble gathered here is as unique as the plot itself. Gordon-Levitt and Ellen Page as Cobb’s right-hand man and principle architect, respectively, impressively move another step away from trapping themselves into careers in cutesy adolescent dramas. Leonardo DiCaprio seems to be playing the same “intense” guy in his last few films. Luckily, it works here, but he is often overshadowed by Tom Hardy, whose mischievous take on his character of the forger Eames offers refreshing moments of comic relief. The scene stealer, however, is Marion Cotillard. With a role that seems small carries the fate of the entire film, her portrayal of Mal elevates Inception even higher, from being not just an extraordinary sci-fi, but a stirring love story and psychological drama as well.

I’d like to think that I have a slightly-larger-than-pea-sized intellect. But I’m not going to lie: at some points, it’s easy to go rather cross-eyed trying to understand the multiple labyrinths of subconsciousness that Chris Nolan keeps weaving us in and out of. It’s easy to feel him deftly, almost gleefully loosening the screws inside your head as you struggle to retain grasp of what is real and what isn’t. It’s easy to feel an uncontrollable desire to stand up in the middle of it all and scream for a time-out just to catch yourself up on what the heck is going on.

But that may be just what Nolan is going for: to shake our illusion that we are in control, and perhaps to make us come away from the film questioning our own dreams and realities, wondering to what extent our lives are dictated by our memories and how ready we are to confront the layers of our subconscious that we have previously shied away from.

I’m sure that, upon numerous viewings of the film, people will find all sorts of loopholes and logical imperfections to debunk its unnerving effect. But for the time being, I highly recommend this film for its compelling performances, awe-inspiring visuals, and an ending that is at once exasperating and absolutely perfect. No matter how you may feel about its technicalities, you will most likely walk out of the theater wanting to watch Inception again.

*I just read that synopsis through again and I’ve really done no justice to the story. I apologize. If you want to know how it really went, you just need to watch the movie. Probably twice.

**Or I could just have been too busy grappling with the plot to scrutinize characterization.

Raavan

As if we didn’t already have enough Ramayan adaptations in the world, Mani Ratnam decides to join in on the fun. Raavan, as the title unashamedly gives away, is the acclaimed director’s take on the epic, with a few plot and character twists thrown in—you know, to be “different” and all.

Known for thwarting power in favor of the poverty-stricken, tribal leader Beera Munda (Abhishek Bachchan) is revered by villagers yet resented by local authorities. Consistently evading capture and arrest, he has gradually grown to unofficially rule the small town of Lal Maati.

Enter Dev Pratap Sharma (Vikram), an accomplished and highly-respected inspector, called upon to rid Lal Maati of the roguish likes of Beera once and for all. With a few strategic attacks on Beera’s world, Dev is at his commanding best—until he learns that his own wife, Ragini (Aishwariya Rai), is the kidnapped victim of Beera’s revenge.

Led by the goofy-but-wise forest guard Sanjeevani* (Govinda—a casting choice I can only explain as a weak effort to simultaneously fulfill the need for a “Hanuman” as well as some comic relief), Dev and his band of trusty colleagues set forth into Beera’s jungle to rescue Ragini. Meanwhile, as Ragini increasingly interacts with her captor and learns of her husband’s hand in his painful past, sides of him emerge that contradict his image as a demonic villain.

I can see where Ratnam might have been going with this. Beera has been endowed with Robin Hood-like qualities and a rather tragic backstory, while it is occasionally the supposedly-heroic Dev whose intentions appear morally questionable. In so doing, Ratnam allows each of them a realistic and relatable, rather than symbolic, function. While this certainly makes for greater character dimensionality, it remains to be seen whether Indian audiences will buy these more sensitized depictions—will they accept such loose interpretations of religious figures, or resent them, arguing that because Ram and Raavan’s mere existence is to signify the battle between virtue and evil, to humanize them would defeat their purpose? Perhaps if the film hadn’t been so blatantly touted as a modern-day Ramayan, and therefore hadn’t weighed itself down with the pressure of adhering to the tropes of the original, the blurring of the lines and somewhat unresolved ending would have worked more favorably.

As for the acting, lackluster performances abound. You already know how I feel about Govinda. The others aren’t much better. Abhishek often appears to be channeling his inner Joker with manic grins and fits of psychotic rage; yet where he truly shines is during Beera’s rare betrayals of vulnerability. Aishwarya has little to do besides emit the occasional shrill shriek and feature in an oddly placed, if not completely unnecessary, song and dance number. It is entirely possible that this production was probably an excuse to get the Bachchans onscreen together again because let’s face it, they’re an unavoidable package deal now.

At 138 minutes, the film is simply too long, especially when one considers that a good half hour could have been saved just by eliminating the excessive shots of Ash peering through dew-laced lashes at her surroundings in slow motion. If you must go, go for music—the score’s unique syncopations and catchy rhythms ooze classic A.R Rahman—and stay for the cinematography. Save for the aforementioned slo-mos, Santosh Sivan puts forth a visually stunning display that not only showcases his mastery of his craft, but justifies watching the film on a big screen, assuring us that despite our misgivings about any narrative gray areas, Raavan is unmistakably a true beauty to watch.

*That's right, Sanjeevani. Yeah, me either.

Coming to America

Coming to America starts off like a National Geographic special: as the opening credits roll, the camera glides through vistas of palm trees, lush forests, and thriving wildlife before coming to rest on a palace that, with its blue turrets and sprawling lawn, seems to have been ripped out of the pages of a Disney fairy tale. Yet in this fictional African land of Zamunda, Prince Akeem (Eddie Murphy), is disgruntled with his privileged life and the prospect of an arranged marriage. With the companionship of his sidekick Semmi (Arsenio Hall), he decides to travel to Queens, New York to find a wife who will love him, not his status as future King.

The story, admittedly, is not anything we haven’t seen before; the rich boy, poor girl formula has been used all too often. However, it’s easy to forgive the unoriginality, as romantic comedy is rarely a genre that allows for groundbreaking novelty anyway. What is new is Eddie Murphy’s performance, markedly more subtle than his past outrageousness in Beverly Hills Cop or on Saturday Night Live. Here, he barely uses profane language or rowdy behavior; well-spoken and courteous, he’s the perfect gentleman, whether it's calmly standing up to the robber who holds up McDowell’s or stopping on the street to give money to homeless men. Actually, the film might even be read as a metaphor for his career—just as Prince Akeem yearns to break away from his life in Zamunda, so too does Murphy want to separate himself from previous roles as the rough, gangster-type. Being Akeem is a chance for him to assert both his broader range as an actor as well as his refusal to comply with the narrow parameters for African American characters in Hollywood.

Even more striking is the fact that this is one of the few times that a film revolved around the love story between two positive black characters (remember, we’re talking about the 1980s here!). The childlike enthusiasm with which Akeem introduces himself to Lisa (Shari Headley), dancing in the restaurant during their first date—their relationship is sweet and genuine. Particularly heartfelt is their conversation about love and marriage after Lisa refuses to marry her despicable boyfriend, Darryl (Eriq LaSalle)*. The interaction between them makes it easy for us to see them as a “normal” couple—as opposed to alternatives offered at the time—and therefore root for their relationship to succeed.

While the romance may be charming, and while Eddie Murphy may be unusually tame as the innocent and well-mannered prince, almost everything else about the film is far from subdued. As the opening credits described above suggest, we seem to be alerted from the beginning that what we are about to watch is unashamedly tongue-in-cheek. A satirical undertone is present almost throughout, from the exaggeratedly long dining table at which Akeem and his parents sit on opposite ends and the exotic African animals randomly running across the frame, to the curse-filled shouts of angry New Yorkers and the not-so-subtle spoof on McDonald’s. Additionally, Murphy and Hall indulge in their specialty of embodying multiple roles, particularly as the various kooky employees of the local barber shop. As entertaining as they are, most of these elements contribute little to the narrative: the barbers don’t do much for the progression of the plot, and neither, for instance, do Hall’s over-the-top antics as the rowdy Reverend Brown. Consequently, it often feels like the entire film is an extension of Murphy’s stand-up routines, fragmented into short sketches that don’t necessarily have any purpose besides comic effect.

So while Coming to America, as a different depiction of African Americans in cinema, may have had the potential to make more of a social impact, perhaps the disjointed and sometimes crude humor prevents it from being taken too seriously. However, it may be because of this mix of romance and comedy that the film has appealed to both fans of such humor as well as those seeking more of a love story. For all the contradicting opinions among critics and audiences about its political and social statements, we can’t deny that this movie is funny—and if nothing else, undoubtedly fulfills Murphy’s eternal goal of wanting to make people laugh.

*This is irrelevant, but am I the only one who still can't think of him as anyone but Dr. Benton on ER?

Twilight Review: Part II

In case you missed Part I, catch up here!

So. What is it that makes Twilight click with almost all ages of a primarily female audience? Perhaps one explanation is that despite Stewart's impassive rendition of the lead role, Bella remains a relatable main character. No longer living with her mother and unable to communicate freely with her single father, she strikes a chord with the millions of viewers who are also the products of broken marriages and may be struggling to maintain a bond with their parents. Slightly awkward, introverted, and somewhat lonely, Bella also speaks directly to women who may feel similarly self-conscious or insecure, whether they are currently experiencing or looking back on the emotional roller-coaster that is adolescence. Her athletic ineptitude, tendency to slip on ice, and altogether clumsiness is what makes her endearing. Young girls can look to her for hope that they need not be exceptionally attractive, talented, or part of the most popular cliques in school to find someone who will love them unconditionally. Meanwhile, through Bella, older women can reconnect with the younger versions of themselves and indulge in reliving their teen fantasy of finding their "one true love".

Especially when that fantasy comes in the perfectly sculpted form of Edward Cullen. Brave, beautiful--albeit dreadfully face-painted--and hopelessly enamored with Bella, Edward is what every girl wants and every wife or mother can remember wanting. His appeal is enhanced by the very fact that as a vampire he is, for all intents and purposes, off-limits. As it is often human nature to yearn for what we cannot have, Edward is the ultimate object of desire for whom to pine. His complete devotion is made even more attractive by his selfless commitment to sacrifice his own sexual impulses and longings for Bella's safety. Although she implores him to make her a vampire as well so that they can spend eternity together, he refuses, understanding that doing so would only devalue her existence. A symbol of the mom-approved virtues of abstinence and unwavering loyalty, Edward embodies qualities that are rare to come by in this day, making him that much more of an ideal lover in the eyes of female audiences. Despite the occasional disagreement girls may have over his ashy looks, then, Edward, with his admirable character and morals, remains the perfect guy.

Further contributing to Twilight's appeal is the pairing of two genres. Vampirism purists may not appreciate the tweaking of the theme; however, Hardwicke seems to use the modern-day context of the alter the traits of vampirism so as to work in its favor. While some features, such as the undeniable sexual undertones and implications of mortal danger, are retained, Twilight's vampires do not don dark capes or bear overgrown fangs like their counterparts in films past. Instead, dressed in normal human clothing and each blessed with striking good looks, the Cullens are much more accessible to audiences who may be wary of or unaccustomed to traditional depictions of vampires. This more viewer-friendly treatment, coupled with the ever-reliable concept of ill-fated love, results in a winning combination. As seen by the popularity of classic tales such as Romeo and Juliet or even the relatively recent Titanic or Moulin Rouge, the idea of individuals from two drastically different worlds finding soulmates in each other is timeless. It resonates with female audiences who relish the emotion-filled journey of an eternal romance; Bella and Edward become the latest addition to a long history of lovers who, knowing that theirs is a risky and likely doomed relationship, are nevertheless willing to face anything to hold on to it. Wrought with the very real human battle of the heart versus the mind, Twilight's use of this tried and true formula seals the film's potential for success.

Finally, while one would prefer for the film to stand on its own, it is impossible to conclude a discussion of it's appeal without recognizing that it is due in large part to the branding of the Twilight series and the loyalty of its readers. With over 21 million fan sites, countless cast interviews in print and on screen, and memorabilia that range from Edward-themed underwear to tattoos bearing the Cullen crest, it has been impossible in the last two years not to encounter some representation of how saturated the media and society have become with all things Twilight. Not only can the expanding franchise nourish existing obsessions, but it can spark new ones as well, sweeping the unassuming bystander into the craze*. As such an all-consuming aspect of popular culture today for teenage girls in particular, it is almost as though a passion--or at least a familiarity--for the Twilight books and films is required for them to conduct their social lives without becoming outcasts among their peers. The marketing of Twilight has also led fans to become attached to the characters even outside the realm of the series: they inform themselves of the actors' personal lives; join "teams" devoted to Robert, Kristin, or Taylor; go to bizarre lengths to enter contests that will win them a day with the cast; and begin to see themselves not just as viewers but as part of the Twilight ensemble. It is this extensive audience investment, fuelled by the multitude of media outlets that feed their obsession, which augments Twilight mania and sends the public flocking into theaters to see their favorite stars in action.

Thus, despite the film's woeful lack of cinematic brilliance, Twilight's ability to engage female viewers with its relatable story, clever use of genres, strategic casting, and shrewd marketing allows it to secure its place as the premier love story of its time and win a fan base that is as faithful as Edward is to Bella. As a result, no matter how terrific or terrible the remaining films may be, Twi-hards are here to stay and will ensure that they are destined for the same--if not more--success.

*Apparently my cynicism has reached a point where ample views of vampires and werewolves with washboard abs have no effect on me, thus allowing me to escape from said craze unscathed.

Twilight Review: Part I

Until recently, I had little reason to watch Twilight for a number of reasons. Not having read Stephanie Meyer’s novels of the saga, I was blissfully ignorant of their seemingly addictive effect and thus had zero motivation to assess whether director Catherine Hardwicke’s film adaptation lived up to the apparently thrilling yet heart wrenching story offered in the book. Also, I have seen a grand total of one other vampire film in my life, and was hesitant to use the little free time I do have watching a movie in a genre that I clearly do not know much about. Third, I am a 23 year old graduate student with no particular attachment to Robert Pattinson, not a giggling pre-teen—or her mother, for that matter—who feels compelled to squeal at the very glimpse of his scruffy haircut in a magazine. However, over the last year, as I witnessed girls of various ages around me drop like flies in their obsession over the film and franchise, my curiosity got the better of me. I therefore justify my first Twilight experience with a review of the film and, in a "part 2" post, some ideas as an objective viewer as to why it has appealed to such a widespread, mostly female demographic.

Initial apprehensions over my unfamiliarity with the books disappeared almost instantly as I realized that my illiterate 3-year old cousin could have followed the plot without much problem: shy, attractive Bella Swan (Kristin Stewart) abandons sunny Arizona for the drizzly chill of Forks, Washington, where she finds herself inexplicably captivated by shy, attractive classmate Edward Cullen (Pattinson), who seems determined to maintain his distance. After Bella’s relentless prodding into the secret behind his mysterious demeanor, he reveals that he in fact belongs to a family of “vegetarian” vampires who restrict their diet to animals rather than humans. However, Bella’s scent is especially alluring for Edward, leading him to simultaneously fall in love with her yet doubt his self-control around her. The more he warns her to stay away, the more she yearns to be with him, until the two are so besotted with each other that even his potential as a bloodsucking killer is not enough to keep them apart.

While the basic premise is easy for us non-Twi-hards to understand, Melissa Rosenberg’s screenplay and Hardwick’s direction are still sloppy enough to ensure that unless one is familiar with the books, they will be baffled by the lack of development of much of the story’s elements. For instance, although scenes between Bella and her father are mostly halting conversations over burgers at a local diner, hardly any attention is spent on exploring their obviously awkward and impersonal relationship; they are as clumsy in their interactions at the end of the film as they are at the beginning. Taylor Lautner as Jacob, Bella’s childhood friend, has a total of about five minutes of screen time, leaving us puzzled as to why he is in the film at all and rendering him quite unnecessary. While ample time is devoted to fellow classmates’ pursuits for prom dates, the love story between Bella and Edward blossoms so fast that it appears forced. Their entire relationship seems to progress over the course of a week at most, so that when Edward insists that Bella is his “whole life now” or she claims that she has fallen “completely and irrevocably in love with him,” the declarations come across as ridiculously melodramatic rather than romantic—especially considering that the lovers are seventeen years old. Clearly, the film stumbles into to one of the classic traps of novel adaptations, attempting to cram in so many disparate components of the book to please fans that it is eventually unable to come together as a cohesive, flowing narrative. It is irksome to feel as though, in order to understand or appreciate the movie, one must surrender to the cult-like society of obsessive Twilight fans; Hardwicke unfairly assumes that we will either have read the series or will stay tuned for the sequel—neither of which should be a criteria for simply wanting to enjoy a film.

As for those who are unfamiliar or uninterested in vampire films, they really need not worry—the genre seems to be used merely as a disguise for what is essentially a teen drama, skewing quintessential features of vampirism in order to portray the Cullens in an idealistic light. While sunlight is usually fatal to vampires, in Edward’s case its effect is to give his skin a brilliant glimmer, which only makes him more beautiful to Bella. His vampirism is portrayed more as an exotic addition to his good looks than an actual threat to Bella’s life. There is not a single mention of holy water, crucifixes, or even garlic; the traits of classic vampirism are further distorted by the Cullens’ various eccentricities, such as Edward’s mindreading skills or his sister’s ability to foresee the future. Vampirism is used here simply as a reason for Edward to restrain himself from giving in to his desire for Bella; had it not had anything to do with the film, we would still be left with basically the same story: a determinedly chaste adolescent romance. Thus, viewers expecting another Nosferatu or Dracula will be utterly disappointed by Twilight’s lukewarm allegiance to the vampire genre.

Even more disappointing, however, is the depressingly abysmal acting put forth by virtually every character in the entire movie. Stewart broods her way through the film with exactly one facial expression, delivering her lines without the slightest hint of inflection. Robert Pattinson’s intense staring and grimaces of love-induced anguish come across as constipated rather than passionate. In a film centered on the romance between two such young people, actual chemistry is crucial for us to respect and believe their emotions. Add to that the fact that one of the lovers is a vampire, and it becomes even more important that they play their relationship convincingly enough for us to take them seriously. Yet, there is such a dismal lack of spark in Bella and Edward’s interactions that his insistence that she is like his “own personal brand of heroin” is laughable*. With a supporting cast of overzealous high school classmates, parents who try too hard, and not-so-scary rival vampires, the entire film becomes an exhibit of embarrassingly amateur performances.

So what is it that makes Twilight click with girls everywhere? Stay tuned for my attempt to answer that question in Twilight Review: Part II

*not to mention a leading contender for "Stupidest Movie Line Ever."

Terminator 2: Judgment Day

After attempting to kill Sarah Connor in the first film, the Terminator is back--except this time he's been reprogrammed to have a change of heart. Returning from the future, his mission now is to prevent a bigger and meaner cyborg--the T-1000--from killing Sarah's son, who will one day be at the helm of the war between humans and machines.

For die-hard fans of science fiction*, it's easy to see how Terminator 2: Judgment Day is quite the pioneer in terms of its special effects. The film is composed of spectacle after spectacle, from cyborgs morphing into human beings to elaborate fight scenes involving raging fire pits and exploding trucks. The CGI of the film deserves credit, as it's hard to imagine anything prior to 1991 that achieved such sophisticated, awe-inspiring images. In terms of visuals, Terminator 2: Judgment Day undoubtedly delivered, and had me optimistic that perhaps this wouldn't be another run-of-the-mill science fiction debacle.

That hope dwindled, however, with the realization that the film's narrative abounds with gaping plot holes. While the fact that it's science fiction allows leeway for unrealistic events, screenwriters William Wisher and James Cameron seem to feed off the film's precursor, using its success to tamper with the logic of the story and get away with it. Why else, for instance, would it go unquestioned that although John eventually destroys the T-1000 and the microchip that creates all cyborgs, there still somehow remains the risk for a future war between humans and machines? Or that, although Sarah is stabbed pretty forcefully by the T-1000 during the climax, she's still quite able to remain alive, escape its clutches, and even try her hand at gunning it down? The only, albeit unsatisfying, way to reconcile such issues is to accept that this genre, by definition, doesn't need to account for much realism.

Nor does it appear to pay much heed to the quality of acting. Edward Furlong as the unruly, 14-year old John Connor is agonizingly irritating, overacting to the point where no longer do we care that he will one day rescue the human race from total destruction, but we almost hope that the T-1000 will get him. Arnold Schwarzenegger is actually in an ideal role here, because lucky for him, playing the Terminator doesn't require any actual acting. Instead, it relies merely on having physical strength and a robotic demeanor, both of which come to him naturally. His few attempts at humor and sensitivity are awkward at best; while they may have been included to give him more of a paternal image in terms of his relationship with John, it's all the more disconcerting to imagine that a machine is being made to take the place of a real person--which, on second though, may have been an intended effect, a warning of sorts that society's obsession with technology may be taking over human relationships. Only Robert Patrick's portrayal of the T-1000 is satisfying**; aloof and unapologetically brutal, he passes off perfectly as a soulless machine whose only goal is demolition.

Worst of all, though, is the sheer length of the film. Halfway through, it turns into one big chase scene that gets extremely tiring to watch. The T-1000 is supposed to be indestructible, the ultimate threat to the cozy family unit that Sarah, John, and the Terminator have become. Although we catch on to that pretty much within the first 30 minutes, Cameron seems determined to pound it into our heads. Thus, for more than 2 hours, we are subjected to watch the T-1000 repeatedly get shot, blown up, and disintegrated into puddles of liquid metal, only to fuse back together and resurface without a hint of a scratch on its human-like exterior. While the images are striking indeed, the lackluster performances, ludicrous plot, and unforgivably long runtime eventually overtake the visuals, making Terminator 2: Judgment Day much less enjoyable than it had the potential to be.

*i.e. NOT me

**and he doesn't even have any LINES! That should tell you something about the rest of the performances.

Fatal Attraction

*Just a little opening caveat: The next few films I review may strike you as really random or really outdated. I agree. My explanation for that is that they were required screenings for a grad school course, and since I have considerably less time to watch the latest theatrical releases at the cinema, these films are pretty much all I have to work with at the moment. Hopefully I'll be back with newer stuff next semester!*

Adrian Lyne's Fatal Attraction has the makings of a riveting thriller: strong actors, an original story (for it's time), aesthetically sound cinematography...even the hauntingly beautiful tunes of Madame Butterfly work well to accompany the building of suspense in many scenes, allowing us to forgive the blatant plot similarities between the film and the opera. Still, somehow, somewhere, something goes incredibly wrong. It all starts off intriguingly enough--attorney Dan Gallagher (Michael Douglas) indulges in a one-night stand with seductive Alex Forrest (Glenn Close) while his trophy wife, Beth (Anne Archer) and daughter Ellen are away for a weekend. Yet he soon realizes the terrifying consequences of his mistake when Alex turns obsessed and willing to resort to any means to make him hers.*

What's admirable about the film is that each actor manages to make his or her character sympathetic to some degree. Although you'd love to despise Douglas for his infidelity, he seems to genuinely regret the affair, as is evident in the way he overcompensates for his actions by suddenly turning into the perfect husband and father immediately afterwards: giving into the repeated requests of his daughter** for a pet rabbit, agreeing to buy the suburban house that his wife loves--we grudgingly understand that despite his mistake, his loyalties lie with his family and he may be getting dealt a rougher hand than he deserves. Anne Archer also wins us over with a sensible performance. While she's blithely unaware of anything amiss for the majority of the film, she doesn't come off as foolish; only trusting, as any wife should have the right to be. Most surprising, though, is that even Glenn Close earns our sympathy (well, at least until about two-thirds of the way into the plot, at which point you're alternately appalled and amused--more on that in a bit). In spite of her pathological tendencies, she portrays her loneliness with a vulnerability that manages to be fairly heart-wrenching, particularly when shots of her sitting alone by her lamp, flicking the light on and off, are juxtaposed with those of Douglas surrounded by his family and friends. However, the sympathy quickly wanes in the third act, when Lyne seems to lose interest in giving her character any nuances and lets her psychotic impulses take over.

Here's where the film slides downhill, going from thrillingly disturbing to ridiculously melodramatic and choppy. The scene where Close "kidnaps" the kid seems to have been inserted at random, while Douglas' confession to his wife is given far less consideration than it warrants. Anne Archer hardly has a chance to explode into an enraged outburst before the scene is rapidly cut short; the next time Douglas and Archer interact, things are back to being hunky-dory without the need for conversation or reflection on why they've found themselves in this situation at all. The film rapidly turns into a sequence of silly chases where we're made to wonder who will destroy whom first. Worst of all is an ending that is just too easy, and all-too reminiscent of the famous bathroom murder scene in Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho. Surely there must have been a better way to conclude the story than to simply kill off the offending character without any real psychological exploration into her motives.

I know that over the years, the film has achieved iconic status, and for those of you who loved it, I don't mean to rain on anyone's parade. But for me, there are just too many loose strings in the plot to really appreciate it. We're given barely any information about Alex's past; had there been some more exploration into her backstory, we would have been able to better understand the reason for her disturbed mentality. Additionally, it's difficult to believe that a character as decent as Dan--loving father, successful lawyer--would actually be unfaithful. Had there been some initial indication of dissatisfaction with his relationship with his wife, the affair would have been more credible, as we would have understood that there was a deeper reason behind it than just the allure of an attractive woman.*** Thus, while entertaining and, admittedly, capable of maintaining one's attention till the last frame, Fatal Attraction ultimately falls short, giving way to excessive and over-the-top violence, and ruining its potential to be taken too seriously.

* I mean, really, any means. Not to spoil the plot, but boiling pet bunnies is pretty extreme.

**did anyone else not realize until about halfway through the film that the kid was, in fact, a girl? I think I was distracted for a good 45 minutes of the plot because I was too busy trying to figure that out.

***and I'm sorry, but I'm really pushing it when I say Glenn Close is alluring and attractive.