I can't figure this guy out. You know, sometimes... sometimes it's so easy. I mean, it might be the tie they wear or the books they read... or don't read. But you know what will end it. So you just file it away and you wait. And that sort of makes it bearable. But with this guy...
"They broke every rule," reads the original movie poster for 9½ Weeks. "A man. A woman. An attraction that became an obsession," reads another. "You'll never look at love the same way again," still another. But for all its titillation, boundary bashing and runaway home video success, the film that launched a thousand flaccid late-night cable knock-offs loses itself in its own steamy erotica. It doesn't take a doctorate in Film & Cinema Studies to unravel the mystery of its cult status, or how it could fail so miserably at the box office yet take the rental market by storm. But today, director Adrian Lyne's turbulent drama is -- perhaps as much as it's ever been -- an infuriating blend of artistic elegance and self-indulgent silliness; enigmatic passion and blunt-force erotica; raw psychological intrigue and gaudy, gratuitous distraction. Somewhere in the dark, deviant midst of it all is a film begging, just begging, to be taken seriously. If only Lyne obliged more often than he does.
"How did you know? How did you know I'd respond to you the way I have?"
9½ Weeks charts the crash-course of a tumultuous relationship between SoHo art gallery assistant Elizabeth McGraw (Kim Basinger) and Wall Street arbitrageur John Gray (Mickey Rourke). John, though, isn't a silk-n-roses kind of guy. Domineering, unpredictable and abusive, he pulls where others would invite, insults when others would wax poetic, and toys and tortures where others would tease and offer relief. Elizabeth, though, isn't exactly opposed to John's authority or advances, much as some of his attempts to scare her away truly frighten her. She finds solace in his emotional games, arousal in the ensuing uncertainty, and a strange sense of satisfaction in his erratic behavior. And he finds something he wasn't expecting as well: love. But the more willing she is, the deeper into the abyss she ventures, the more he feels the need to push her, test her and, whether calculated or subconsciously, watch their nine-and-a-half-week affair come undone.
In 2002, Steven Shainberg took 9½ Weeks to task with Secretary, exploring the needs expressed, feared and fulfilled by both the dominant and submissive members of a sadomasochistic relationship while steering clear of the soft-core trappings, cheesy interludes and sultry pandering that litter Lyne's uncut Weeks. Lyne is fascinated with the dynamic of such an unorthodox relationship (as the final ten minutes of Weeks makes abundantly clear), but his greater interest lies in exploiting it (as his entire second act makes abundantly clear). Secretary moves where and when its characters direct it; 9½ Weeks shuffles wherever its audience wills it. Lyne ironically submits to the demands of the genre far more often than he asserts himself as the one who should be issuing those demands. Unnerving, blind-folded exchanges and diffuse, minimalistic dialogue make John and Elizabeth's volatile affair a deliberately and deliciously ambiguous downward spiral. And when Lyne reigns in the '80s synth, rain-drenched alley-sex and honey-drizzled kitchen escapades and focuses on John and Elizabeth's unspoken, symbiotic connections, 9½ Weeks almost, almost rises above the '80s erotica fray. But Lyne favors smutty, smoky, at-times awkward sexual wind-walking over cinematic subtly and psychological craft. We see but rarely empathize. We watch but rarely feel. We grow curious but rarely, if ever, engage. And while that may actually draw us closer to John, it isn't as intentional as it might first seem.
Rourke seduces 9½ Weeks and makes it his film on his terms, but Basinger is in over her head. Far removed from her 1997 Academy Award-winning turn as a high-priced call girl in L.A. Confidential, she heats up the screen and little more. When she's quivering, recoiling or silently drinking in her lover's whims, Basinger sizzles. Unfortunately, all the lip biting and hand clenching she has to offer can't save her from her own performance. The moment Elizabeth opens her mouth, Basinger -- circa 1984, when the production wrapped -- seeps through. Clumsy, wooden and out of her depth, she struggles to transform Elizabeth into something more than an oft-humiliated object of obsession. (Not that Lyne was any help. Basinger later criticized his manipulative, equally abusive tactics, laying much of the blame squarely on the director's shoulders.) In theory, it should all benefit the film. In practice, though, Basinger isn't submissive, she's simply overshadowed. It's Rourke's obscured soul you want to peer into, not hers. It's John's past you want to examine, his motivations, his private life, his defenses and insecurities. But Rourke is only half of Lyne's torrid equation. Basinger, by inexperience or abandonment, isn't consistently convincing enough to keep pace with her co-star. Does 9½ Weeks still ooze sexiness? Sure, so long as the occasional dose of sleaze-n-tease '80s music, emotionally abusive relationships, and ridiculously impromptu liaisons don't spoil the mood. (After fleeing from thugs in a rainstorm, John and Liz get it on in a grimy New York alleyway, guzzling down the rainwater pouring off the nearby pipes.) It hasn't aged very well, of that much I'm certain, and it isn't going to attract many newcomers... at least not on its artistic merit.
For all the criticism and complaints Warner's 1080p/AVC-encoded video transfer is about to stir up, it is as faithful and filmic an image as anyone could ask for. Grain arrives as if it were a torrential downpour, shadows swallow the city whole, natural light floods John's apartment, and a soft, diffuse haze settles in over almost every scene. Casual viewers will shift uncomfortably; videophiles will breathe a sigh of relief. But it's all in keeping with Lyne's aesthetic and the film's original presentation, regardless of how erratic fine detail may be. There isn't any egregious noise reduction to speak of, no heavy-handed edge enhancement to gripe about (despite the fact that mild edge halos appear throughout), and no actual issues of note. Colors range from muted grays to fearless reds and smoky blues, skintones are by and large convincing, and black levels are deep and satisfying. The real question, of course, is whether a more extensive restoration could have cleaned up some of the outlying eyesores that persist. Although the Blu-ray presentation represents a substantial upgrade from its previously released DVD counterparts, contrast tends to fluctuate a bit from frame to frame (wildly on a few occasions), grain becomes unwieldy at times, and delineation is all over the place. How much each one could be addressed isn't entirely clear, though (without scrubbing Peter Biziou's original photography within an inch of its life, that is), and the film looks about as good as it presumably could without the sort of overhaul Warner grants its timeless classics (which 9½ Weeks is not).
Warner's DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track is more than serviceable, but it's also a bit too cold and detached, holding the listener at a distance rather than drawing them in, body and soul. Dialogue, while a touch thin in some interior spaces (Elizabeth's gallery and offices are repeat offenders), is clear and intelligible, and low-end output is solid, lending everything from rainstorms to passing cars to surges of Jack Nitzsche's decidedly '80s score welcome force. The LFE channel doesn't exhibit much finesse -- strength trumps grace -- but this is easily the best 9½ Weeks has sounded. The rear speakers are infuriatingly subdued, though; so much so that it seems as if entire scenes are being presented with a stereo mix. (A commendable lossless stereo mix, mind you, but a stereo mix all the same.) That's not to say that there isn't a soundfield to be had, just that it's often flat, inconsistent and uninvolving. Otherwise, I suspect fans will be pleased with the results.
Prepare to be swept away... somewhere. Just don't be surprised if you're ready to leave long before you learn how John and Elizabeth's relationship burns out. 9½ Weeks is two intertwined films: a smart, emotionally fascinating erotic drama starring Mickey Rourke and a silly, emotionally taxing bit of '80s erotica starring a then-fledgling Kim Basinger. It wants to be a serious film, yearns to be a serious film, but it can't help itself, succumbing to pitfalls littered with the corpses of dozens of similar and similarly divisive genre pics. Warner's Blu-ray release is a sleeker, sexier vixen than the film itself, even if its faithful, hyper-grainy presentation will disappoint many a casual viewer. It doesn't offer a shred of supplemental material (other than a theatrical trailer), but its filmic video transfer and decent DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1 surround track should entice curious cinephiles and satisfy longtime fans.
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