I didn’t know, going in to Chloe, that it is an English-language remake of the 2003 French film Nathalie… So as it unspooled, I found myself not pondering sexy Gallic flicks but, instead, this: “Atom Egoyan’s been watching Fatal Attraction, hasn’t he?”
I like Egoyan, the sensitive Canadian director of films such as The Sweet Hereafter and last year’s Adoration. I really do. And if he told himself, “I will make a sexy nudy arthouse softcore porn flick with Julianne Moore and Amanda Seyfriend and maybe more people will see my movies,” I’m okay with that.
I wish Chloe was more involving, though. I wish that if Egoyan wanted to make a sexy softcore movie, he had made one that fully embraced its sexiness. I wish that the bits in which it is actually sexy were a little less… mean and depressing.
Cuz this is a story about manipulation. About mistrust. About people who supposedly have an intimate relationship yet are unable to communicate with each other. And when it gets sexy, it’s a lie. It might be, you know, “hot” on its surface, beautiful bodies beautifully photographed doing things to each other that, you know, ohmigod! But it’s all more sad than anything else.
Not that there’s anything wrong with sad, either, of course. But even the sad here never quite gels into anything satisfying in the right kind of melancholy way.
Maybe it’s just a girl thing that I’d like my sexy nudy arthouse softcore to be a little healthier in the psychological department. I realize this does not necessary make for the best stories ever, but messed-up folk lying to the people they’re fucking isn’t automatically interesting, either.
There’s Catherine Stewart, see, a Toronto doctor, and she is Julianne Moore (A Single Man, Blindness), who is a goddess at portraying cold, clinical femininity. She thinks her husband of many years, David (Liam Neeson: Five Minutes of Heaven, Ponyo), is having an affair. And after a chance meeting in a restaurant ladies’ room with a high-class call girl, Chloe (Amanda Seyfried: Dear John, Jennifer’s Body), Catherine hits on the notion of hiring Chloe to approach her husband — not as a prostitute but as a student, which dovetails nicely with David’s work as a music professor, a job that puts him right in the path of easily impressed, worshipful young things — and see what he does when presented with a lovely and willing young supplicant. Chloe does this, and reports back to Catherine on what transpired.
No, I won’t tell you what transpired. But it’s at this point where Chloe starts getting tricky, from a storytelling perspective. It’s all “oh what a tangled web we weave, etc.,” of course, but not just from Catherine’s and Chloe’s and David’s perspectives: from Egoyan’s and screenwriter Erin Cressida Wilson’s (Secretary) as well. There are layers of manipulation at work that we’re not aware of at first, and whether you catch on to them immediately (as I did) or are surprised by their unveiling, the motives that have been driving everyone to do what they did are never quite clear. I would never wish for such things to be overexplicated — and I would never expect a director of Egoyan’s faculty to do so — but they do need to feel organic, and not tacked on in a calculated way.
Yeah, Chloe is elegant: designed with an eye toward reflecting the coldness and isolation of its characters, performed by a cast that is always a joy to watch. But it never makes that leap from aesthetically pleasing to emotionally rewarding.
I didn’t know it was a remake either but it’s weird the manner in which the french can get away with things like this and english speakers absolutely cannot.
Found the “eye”/perspective of this thing very tired. A little of Fatal Attraction seeped in indeed.
The lead, the woman played by Julianne Moore, is obviously being treated like a doormat by both husband and son, working, knocking herself out with the tuxedo pickups, birthday party arrangements, and at what must be at least 40-47 years of age, still regressed to the level of changing her party gown several times, all of which is repaid by the husband deliberately missing his plane on his birthday.
What’s more, we’re treated to script lines Julianne Moore must mouth, whining on about how much better looking the husband gets each year, how his grey hairs and wrinkles just make him more attractive. I’m sorry, I’m not seeing it…. Liam Neeson looks…. old and tired, with just enough Botox to start getting the woman-mannish look that is not appealing (I also suspect some hair dye and maybe plugs)
But once again, the manipulation of this script suggests that the only avenue for poor Julianne Moore is to continue to fight for him against the never-ending flood of nubile flesh that will continue to throw themselves at him. We get a plot contrivance that leads to them both making out like bandits in the street and her rushing home to wait for him… I guess she’ll greet him at the door naked with a bottle of champange, a la Mariebelle Morgan (or whatever her name was)
Echh.. why so much drama? That dog is going to continue sniffing around…. but can’t we break through the tired old paradigm here? Even the “ladies lunch” where the women talk about someone “just hanging on” in terror of only having her children every other week.
Why be so strung out about the old fart? Julianne looks rockin, thin, in shape has a great career, can out-orgasm the husband at least on a ten-to-one ration (she’s even a professional at it) maybe she should explore her bisexual side or, at least, give up on the fantasy that you’ve got to keep up sex with your husband three times a day for 40 years. Good god! I think this is where the Europeans have us beat…. they are a little more realistic.
I was so bored at this (if I wasn’t there with a buddy I would have left) that I started inventing alternate plot ideas for Julianne Moore and “Chloe” maybe starting their own detective agency and targting cheaters, becoming female assassins, starting an award-winning talk show providing free vaginal reconstruction and orgasmic reconditioning to low-income women….ANYTHING BUT THIS!!!!!
As for the son, ughhhh, grow some big-girl ovaries, stop the fuck babying him and letting him use the copy machine and kick his whiny, annoying, obnoxious ass, woman!
Moe Murp, over and out.