Hey, everyone. "Moriarty" here with some Rumblings From The Lab.
It’s taken me a little while to wrap my head fully around this particular piece of lunacy from Roger Avary. I saw the film a little over two weeks ago, and I’ve been stewing on my review ever since. With something like SPIDER-MAN or ATTACK OF THE CLONES, those films are fairly easy to digest, and I’ve had enough foreknowledge of them to at least have some idea how to frame a review by the time I go to see the film. With RULES OF ATTRACTION, I walked in blind by design. I didn’t want to know anything. I knew that we sent Quint and Massawyrm to the set, where they both evidently caused deep and lasting disgrace to the name AICN, much like Harry does on a daily basis. I tried to distance myself from said embarrassment, and I didn’t want to read the script by the time a copy of it finally floated across my desk. Hell, even when I introduced JedTheHutt’s early review of the film, I didn’t read it closely for fear of prematurely coloring my perception of it. I decided to just wait and see the movie.
One of the reasons I was interested was because, for many years, I was Roger Avary. At least, that was the rumor. Joe Hallenbeck was Quentin Tarantino, and I was Roger Avary, so the story went. The giveaway was when I actually gave KILLING ZOE a higher spot than PULP FICTION on my ‘90s list entry for 1994. I used to get hysterical e-mails that told me the jig was up. People had “figured me out.” I thought it was just plain funny, and of all the people I was “revealed” as, this was always my favorite. The misperception cursed me to never actually be in the same place that Roger was, though. Time after time, Harry would come to town and set up some sort of get-together with Roger, and it never happened. Something came up for me, or something came up for him, or something came up for Harry, and it just never happened.
I was beginning to resign myself to the idea that I would never actually meet him when I got a call one morning asking if I wanted to come over to Sony that afternoon for a screening at the Thalberg building. I was there, waiting and ready, when Roger showed up. We were there before anyone else, and had a chance to chat for a few minutes. He’s one of those guys that relaxes you immediately as you start talking, personable and low-key and obviously proud of what he had to show. A few other long-lead press types were there to see what was still a fairly rough cut, with some temp music cut in, and after everyone showed up, Roger made a brief introduction, then rolled the movie.
The film starts with a bang, and I mean that in the sleazy double entendre sort of a way. Lauren Hynde, played by the excellent and surprising Shannyn Sossamon (A KNIGHT’S TALE, 40 DAYS & 40 NIGHTS), is losing her virginity. She’s face down in a mattress, half-conscious, having wandered upstairs from the End Of The World Party. She recalls talking to some guy about movies (he prattles on quite comically about Quentin Tarantino, a wry little moment where Avary can’t resist jabbing your expectations), him filming her the whole time. She’s broken-hearted about something, and she decides to go ahead and make this the night. Upstairs, there’s a blackout, and when she comes to, she’s already being slamfucked, but she can see the guy with the camera. He’s filming her. It’s someone else that’s behind her, inside her. She cranes her head for a better look and groans, more disappointed than outraged as she thinks, “It’s a townie. Just a drunk fucking townie.” Before the sheer disillusionment can sink in, the townie stops, suddenly sick, and proceeds to vomit all over Lauren’s head and back. We freeze frame to see her in all her misery, and then time seems to just... run backwards...
We’re downstairs again, back at the party, and Lauren’s still talking to the film major, and we meet Paul Denton, played with a sly, smart presence by Ian Somerhalder (LIFE AS A HOUSE), and we follow him through his own humiliation that night. He’s Lauren’s ex-boyfriend, and it’s obvious right away that he’s gay. He makes a pass at another guy that goes terribly wrong, and there’s something desperate, even self-destructive in the way Paul puts himself out there. Sitting bloody on the floor of a dorm hall, he can’t help but laugh at himself...
... and then time runs backwards again...
The final run through the party switches the focus from Paul and Lauren (both glimpsed in passing) to the film’s ostensible lead, Sean Bateman, played with a sense of seething self-hatred by James Van Der Beek (DAWSON’S CREEK, VARSITY BLUES) in a performance that should effectively destroy any goodwill he’s built up with a fragile teen audience. He’s a monster, a shark with black doll’s eyes, an emotional vampire with a bruised face. And it’s on this image of menace, simmering violence, that we roll time back again, this time far further, moving from winter to fall. The OPENING TITLES play out as snow recedes, leaves fall up, ice gives way to a campus at the end of summer. A few temp songs were used when I saw it, but there was also a lot of final score in place by tomandandy, and it’s effective, smart stuff. The director of photography, Robert Brinkmann, does the best work of his career here. His previous work includes THE BEVERLY HILLBILLIES, ENCINO MAN, THE TRUTH ABOUT CATS & DOGS, and the undeniably moody THE CABLE GUY. Here, he’s managed to create a visual landscape where outrageous comedy plays as naturally as raw emotional exposure.
Sean is getting letters from a secret admirer as the semester gets underway. They pump up his already inflated ego. He embraces his troubled outsider persona, practically daring fate to do something to him as he drifts through his life. He deals drugs for Rupert (played with a delirious coked out mania by TRAFFIC’s Clifton Collins, Jr.) and is in debt to him. We see how a chain of frustration unfolds as Sean goes to the people who owe him money, taking out the abuse he had to sustain on each of them in turn.
The semester starts with an Edge Of The World Party, a miniature Burning Man, and what we see are all sorts of chains of behavior, and we meet another couple of puzzle pieces, including Lauren’s roommate Lara (Jessica Biehl) and AMERICAN PIE’S Thomas Ian Nicholas. This is a film that, more than anything, is about the way individuals impact a community. Everything each of these characters do causes ripples that affect everyone else. So much energy is spent by these people thinking about who to fuck, how to fuck them, and what the fuck finally means. It’s amazing they have time for class amidst all of this.
Avary isn’t interested in the story so much. It’s sort of a lazy, aimless narrative, a series of loosely interconnected scenes and moments. One of the things that really took time to settle in for me is the almost casual nature of the thing. It’s deceptive. My advice is to simply give in and enjoy each of the moments as they come. Worry about the overall impact afterwards. It’ll sneak up on you. Avary manages to do some lovely, intuitive work, including a great split-screen between Lauren and Sean as they each suspect that the other might be the one for them. When two people are flirting, the typical way of shooting is to cut back and forth for specific beats. But the truth is... they’re both playing it for all they’re worth, their smiles turned all the way up. They’re working overtime, sending out powerful hormonal waves, and the way Avary finally resolves the encounter is a moment of particular clarity.
There are a few sequences that misfire. Although Fred Savage’s appearance is enough to make you gasp out loud, shocked when it hits you who you’re looking at, an extended gag sequence involving Jay Baruchel from UNDECLARED and a cameo by Paul Williams (SMOKEY & THE BANDIT, PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE) falls surprisingly flat. Still, it’s one of the few dry spots. Another wonderful split screen illustrates the bitter distance between reality and a masturbatory fantasy, the best scene of its kind since FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH. When another anonymous letter promises Sean that “this is the night,” he is convinced that he’s going to hook up with Lauren. He seems to believe that being with her is going to deliver him from the world of shit he’s built for himself. He’s looking for someone who can save him from what he believes he may have become, and Van Der Beek does a better, more subtle job of coming apart at the seams than Christian Bale did in AMERICAN PSYCHO, playing Sean’s older brother Patrick. That film is a cartoon of violence and sexual fantasy. RULES manages to walk a fine line, somehow coming across as very real despite the heightened, stylized world in which much of it is set. There’s a great digression when Paul goes home to the city, where he has dinner with his mother (Faye Dunaway), her friend Mrs. Jared (Swoozie Kurtz), and Dick Jared (Russell Sams), a casual acquaintance his own age. There’s a scene between the two of them that uses the George Michael song “Faith” that will change your perception of the song forever.
While Paul is gone, the Dress To Get Screwed Party becomes a turning point for Sean and Lauren. He’s on mushrooms, and he somehow ends up in bed with Lara. Jessica Biehl tried to burn down her family image a few years back in a photo layout, but that was nothing compared to the character she plays here. SEVENTH HEAVEN’s producers have got to be actively dreading the arrival of this one in theaters. The scene between them is awful and ugly, and Lauren walks in on them. She’s sickened by what she sees, and all those connections jangle, unsettled, sending bad vibes ricocheting through everyone.
All of this sounds vaguely soapy, but that’s not how it’s played. It’s the exact opposite of soap opera. It’s stark and tentative and everyone seems to get it all wrong. They’re all fucked up about who wants who and how they handle it. Sean can’t deal with being attracted to anyone. The idea that there’s something he wants from someone makes him tremble. It’s too much for him to take. He has to ruin his chances with Laura because there’s a chance, no matter how small, that she might make him happy. He responds to his own desire by lashing out, through random violence that’s directed both outward and inward. Suicide is a constant cloud hanging over the film (one musical choice in particular, played over images of a girl in a bathtub, is ironic and heartbreaking), and Sean does something terrifically pathetic, something that sums him up for Lauren more than his sex with her friend does.
Part of what drives Lauren crazy all semester is the idea that her one true love Victor (Kip Pardue of DRIVEN infamy) is away in Europe, enjoying some time off from school, due to return at the end of the semester. She starts off with the purest of intentions, determined to wait for him, determined that he’s going to be the one who is going to be given the gift of her virginity. We don’t see him for the first two-thirds of the film, but when we finally do, it’s a stand-up-and-applaud sequence, one of those things you just plain have to see. If there’s any one reason for you to buy a ticket, it’s the European tour, two weeks of digital video boiled down to five minutes of intense high-speed imagery, all underscored with a hysterically apt musical quoting of Lindsay Buckingham’s “Holiday Road.” It’s such an assault that you’re not quite sure what you’ve seen when it’s done; you’re just sure you need to see it again.
The rest of the film is the spinning out into inevitability that takes us all the way back to the End Of The World Party. One hurt leads to another, and one rejection leads to another. No one gets what they want, but they just might all get what they deserve. If anyone is a victim in this film, it’s Lauren. There’s something pure, almost untouchable about Sossamon. I didn’t think she was any good in her first two films. She seemed awkward, uncomfortable, still figuring out how to simply claim space in a scene as her own. This time out, she connects, and as a result, she’s the one we end up attached to, desperate for someone to have something good happen to them. The film doesn’t build to some artificial, melodramatic apocalypse. Instead, there are quiet, devastating decisions made, and lives are changed in an almost clinical manner.
I still want to see a final print of the film before I weigh in on it once and for all, but I think RULES OF ATTRACTION is a hell of a good film, and it may well prove to be an important one. Lions Gate Films has a unique marketing challenge ahead of them. This is a magent for controversy. Harry called it a “culture bomb,” and if Lions Gate pulls a William Castle, they could well turn this into something that you have to see for yourself. Open-minded viewers are going to find themselves pleasantly challenged, and we could be seeing several careers turning major corners, becoming something of substance. Avary has managed to make this film feel as rich and as textured as a novel, the ultimate compliment under these circumstances. It’s a strong return to form after a dormant period for a filmmaker with a clear and worthwhile voice.
I’ve gotta get a few hours sleep now, and then I’ll be back with an article about one of those great moments of geek synchronicity. Until then...
"Moriarty" out.
