I found the remake with Richard Gere and Diane Lane ("Unfaithful") intriguing in the way it explored the erotic pull the woman feels to her lover. It was very good at that. Most of the early scenes, especially any with Diane Lane, were very well done. Where Gere dominated a scene, on the other hand -- whether because of his acting, or flawed script or direction, I couldn't tell -- the movie felt phony and forced.
Now I know why. "Unfaithful" tries to exploit Chabrol's powerful storyline, but wants to go in its own direction, too. For instance, the woman in the story is not nearly as central in Chabrol's movie. The story there is really about her husband, and his predicament at discovering that his perfect wife is having an affair. The wounded husband is much more believable here, and thus the murder scene does not feel as lurid as when Gere bludgeons Martinez in the remake. The method of striking blows to the head is the same, yet we understand the meaning of the blows perfectly in Chabrol's original, and the scene immediately previous, when the rivals meet and discuss the affair in the lover's apartment, feels very real and organic in Chabrol (though it is still surprising to find that the husband has come to confront the lover).
By contrast, in the remake, Olivier Martinez plays that scene as part civilized troglodyte and part insouciant brat; Gere comes off as bordering on schizophrenia, or about to suffer a conniption -- a cuckold who's so de-eroticized that his sudden rage reads more as psychopathy. In a movie that purports to be about a crime of passion, the quality of passion feels more like a horror that has gone "off kilter" somehow. The scene is jarring, but not in ways that move the film along.
Having seen both movies now, I do feel like I at least understand how the story might have seemed a good candidate for a remake. La femme Infidele is so good...
It's so good I hardly thought I was watching a movie at all, but living in this story right along with the characters, albeit as troubled observer. It's a movie about the private conclusions that we come to, perhaps selfishly, that we don't share even with the people closest to us, perhaps because we are ashamed of our darkest feelings, those too taboo to admit.
There is a sense that the story's protagonists do feel shame somehow (even in the embarrassingly relieved way the lover welcomes the visit from the husband) but are all too human in the end. There is a sense of desire that emanates from all the characters, who all happen to be pretending at playing one game or another while keeping secrets from one another. Even the perfect little boy is shown to be caught up in his own storms, to the extent that his role in the movie is as more than a signifier of a healthy, prosperous family's bourgeois pride. At one point he explodes at his parents, during a tense evening, yelling at them that he hates them both.
This reading of the self in the throes of a very deep, selfish passion -- while at the same time trying to maintain appearances -- is masterful in Chabrol's movie, and I came away from it believing in the reality of these characters completely.
I can't seem to put it into words too well, but I was very impressed with the understated way this movie examines the tensions that simmer under the surface of family relationships. This is the first movie I have seen by Chabrol and I have to say-- as someone who's seen my fair share of movies touted as "masterpieces" that turn out to be middling -- my faith in the power of film as a storytelling medium is renewed by this piece.
Now I know why. "Unfaithful" tries to exploit Chabrol's powerful storyline, but wants to go in its own direction, too. For instance, the woman in the story is not nearly as central in Chabrol's movie. The story there is really about her husband, and his predicament at discovering that his perfect wife is having an affair. The wounded husband is much more believable here, and thus the murder scene does not feel as lurid as when Gere bludgeons Martinez in the remake. The method of striking blows to the head is the same, yet we understand the meaning of the blows perfectly in Chabrol's original, and the scene immediately previous, when the rivals meet and discuss the affair in the lover's apartment, feels very real and organic in Chabrol (though it is still surprising to find that the husband has come to confront the lover).
By contrast, in the remake, Olivier Martinez plays that scene as part civilized troglodyte and part insouciant brat; Gere comes off as bordering on schizophrenia, or about to suffer a conniption -- a cuckold who's so de-eroticized that his sudden rage reads more as psychopathy. In a movie that purports to be about a crime of passion, the quality of passion feels more like a horror that has gone "off kilter" somehow. The scene is jarring, but not in ways that move the film along.
Having seen both movies now, I do feel like I at least understand how the story might have seemed a good candidate for a remake. La femme Infidele is so good...
It's so good I hardly thought I was watching a movie at all, but living in this story right along with the characters, albeit as troubled observer. It's a movie about the private conclusions that we come to, perhaps selfishly, that we don't share even with the people closest to us, perhaps because we are ashamed of our darkest feelings, those too taboo to admit.
There is a sense that the story's protagonists do feel shame somehow (even in the embarrassingly relieved way the lover welcomes the visit from the husband) but are all too human in the end. There is a sense of desire that emanates from all the characters, who all happen to be pretending at playing one game or another while keeping secrets from one another. Even the perfect little boy is shown to be caught up in his own storms, to the extent that his role in the movie is as more than a signifier of a healthy, prosperous family's bourgeois pride. At one point he explodes at his parents, during a tense evening, yelling at them that he hates them both.
This reading of the self in the throes of a very deep, selfish passion -- while at the same time trying to maintain appearances -- is masterful in Chabrol's movie, and I came away from it believing in the reality of these characters completely.
I can't seem to put it into words too well, but I was very impressed with the understated way this movie examines the tensions that simmer under the surface of family relationships. This is the first movie I have seen by Chabrol and I have to say-- as someone who's seen my fair share of movies touted as "masterpieces" that turn out to be middling -- my faith in the power of film as a storytelling medium is renewed by this piece.