Intimate Affairs (2002)

I wanted to but couldn't!

It's a feast for the eyes. But what really makes this dramedy work is the acting.

It is an exhilarating, distressing, funny and profound film, with one of the more memorable film scores in years,

The film never slows down or bores, plunging from one harrowing sequence to the next.

I have to admit I have barely managed to watch this movie to the first half. The movie is SO boring! I just have fast forwarded to the end in desperate attempt there may be at least some sex in the movie, but I have found none. The description of the film was quite interesting, but the reality was just plain dull. People sitting in the room or in the restaurant constantly speaking some blah blah blah, trying to look important or interesting. Horrid, never ending flow of talks, talks, talks, just without any sense or meaning. Bizarre group of youth "artists" and "researchers" who never had to work in their lives try to "investigate" the sexuality by some very bizarre free association method? What is this? It is not research, just some strange happening of really bored guys who try to achieve something which has no sense at all. I like the actresses, both Neve Campbell and Robin Tunney, but they turned out to be the single attraction in this pseudointellecual desert. It was not erotic, intelligent, clever, educative and most of all, it was not fun. Save your time and go to pub with friends of yours. Have a couple of drinks and have a chat about sex and sexuality - it will be way more entertaining and probably more intelligent that this crap.

My usually reliable TV guide gave this only one and a half (out of five) stars and, judging from the lurid title, I expected either (1) a dated rehash of "The Vagina Monologues" or (2) the sort of trashy and episodic soft-core porn that is commonly seen under titles like "Sex Games in Cancun" and "Women Who Love Horses." Actually it was better than that -- funnier, nicely acted and directed and edited, and thoughtfully written.Its chief disadvantage is that it's going to come across as a stage play, which, I was amazed to find, is not how it started out. (That it began as a French novel was a lot less surprising.) It's stagy. And, as in most plays, there's not a heck of a lot of action and little change of location. It mostly depends on talk and teamwork for its success, and thus it's likely to seem boring to anyone with barbed-wire tattoos anticipating a series of violent rapes.Basically, it's a story of a "research group" of half a dozen or so university students in the 1920s who have been funded by Nick Nolte to have serious, frank discussions of human sexual behavior, with an eye on psychoanalytic interpretations. The original participants include a super-polite black kid in evening dress; a Brit with squinty eyes and a monumental jaw; a nerd who finger paints and whose hair reaches straight towards heaven from his scalp; a young, stern German; and Dermot Mulroney, never a fave of mine, as the deadly, intense leader. They agree that only sex will be discussed -- no love or philosophy or joking around -- and they hire two stenographers, blond Zoe, who later reveals animal impulses, and dark Alice, who wears wire-rimmed glasses and begins and ends as innocent as her namesake.The first one or two discussions are about what you'd expect from a class of intent young students. All the words are as Latin as Havelock Ellis's, except, I suppose, "the little man in the boat" is mostly Germanic. At first the two stenographers are ignored. They're initially flustered and embarrassed. Zoe occasionally throws a smutty glance or smirk in Alice's general direction.Then I'm forced to admit the play or the movie or whatever it is begins to lose its focus, its organization. Nolte shows up, a huffing, growling ancient wreck with wild straw hair, dragging along his wife, Tuesday Weld, whose accent touches bases with both Omsk and Canarsie. Other characters show up half-way through. We watch an avant guard film by one of them -- "Sentenced to Life," with blurry images of jail cells, shackles, and a winged seraph doing a fan dance before absorbing a man the way an amoeba engulfs a food particle. Nolte gets drunk and begins crawling all over the chuckling body of Weld like a giant, hairy tarantula. One couple don pigeon masks and bill and coo behind the drapes. Things fall apart. The center does not hold. The dramatic climax comes when Mulroney and Neve Campbell, who is Alice, feel a glandular attraction to each other but he sends her on her way, preferring the ideal figure of his masturbatory fantasies.Alan Rudolph has done a good job of directing this jumble of incidents. There may not be much action in the plot, though there is some -- a copulation and a fist fight -- but there's plenty of liveliness in the cutting and reaction shots, enough to maintain our interest. There are some very interesting lines in the screenplay too. Weld carelessly throws out, "Sex is always the same. Love is my delusion that one man is different from another." And there is a reference to "Billy the Kid gloves," which someone must have had fun writing.The production designer and set dresser must have had a jolly time too. You have never seen such surrealism. The decor is a radical collection of mutually repulsive junk, more radical than that of Dicken's "The Old Curiosity Shop." The plastic elephant trunk rising chin-high in desolation out of the floor kind of leaps out at you in phallic fashion. An ordinary arm chair is wrapped and tied with stuffed burlap so that it resembles a human figure with a head. Well, I'm not sure that's "surrealism." Maybe it's "dadaism." I don't know the difference. (I think Man Ray was a leader of one movement, while Ray Man led the other.)Sometimes the film prances along and sometimes it mopes. And it's mostly those with a taste for the slightly bizarre that will get the most out of it. But it's worth more than one and a half stars.

I generally like Rudolph's work, even when it borders on the pretentious, but this one plain reeks of it, to the point where I was shaking my head at the screen, not believing what I was hearing and seeing during most of the film's running time. The premise is interesting and somewhat perverse ~ the men hire two stenogs to transcribe every stupid word they utter; one of them is played by the always-good Robin Tunney, who's sexually evolved a bit, having at least 3 conquests under her belt, and the other is the squirmy, virginal Neve Campbell, who's never been worse. A ridiculous part, no question, but someone with some panache - I kept picturing Geraldine Chaplin when she was younger - might have at least brought some fun and believability to the proceedings.Good cast, and good performances, otherwise (considering the material). Nick Nolte's a hoot, raving about his sexual encounters with a particularly attractive donkey, whom he'd enjoyed on Tuesdays and Thursdays, he tells us, in his drunken stupor, and on Wednesdays there was a goat he'd set his sights on but said goat was too fast and he never could catch him. Him. That's right. His character professes to be an equal-opportunity bestiality master, who is married to Tuesday Weld, who talks with a ridiculous sort of German accent part of the time and sounds like she's from the Bronx for the rest.Alan Cumming, who is always fun to watch, is fun here as well, relieving himself of his shirt every chance he gets and posing like a Greek god around the room these clowns are supposedly 'investigating' sex in.By the end, it means absolutely nothing, of course, except that you wasted a little time hoping for some clever titillation at the very least and some possible insight on the subject. There's more insight to be had in any Will Ferrell movie, folks, and that's a harsh indictment.

Anyone who had the pleasure of seeing this film doesn't know the meaning of the word "pleasure." What an inept piece of pompous trash! It is like Plato's Symposium for morons. Poor Julie Delpy looks like she hasn't a clue as to what she should do, and I take this as a sign of her intelligence. It's a great big piece of empty posturing.Tuesday Weld's accent is all over the place, but I guess we're supposed to think she's just an empty old bag with no substance. Or how about the trembling Neve Campbell who does one shtick throughout but we're somehow supposed to think she's wiser at the end. And then there's Dermot Mulr9ony with deep problems with his dad. Give me a break. What's amazing is that this kind of stuff is supposed to be sexy! Good God, hasn't anyone out there met anyone and had something happen between you?