Cruel Intentions Blu-ray Review
Cruelty Is Universal
Reviewed by Michael Reuben, August 31, 2011
Imitation is a sincere form of flattery, but it's rarely an
exact imitation. I once wrote a paper
comparing Shakespeare's
Antony and Cleopatra with the version called
All for Love written in
1678 by the poet John Dryden, whose finely honed verse was considered small compensation for
the reduced stature of his characters. Dryden's Anthony was a professional soldier undone by
politics, not the tragically heroic battle lord drawn by Shakespeare, while the Cleopatra that
wooed him was a charming schemer and hardly the doomed, epic heroine that Shakespeare
forged into a classic role cherished by great actresses. Dryden's failure to create towering
characters may have condemned his play to less of an afterlife than Shakespeare's, but I argued
that he had written exactly the kind of play and characters he intended, because in Dryden's time
the great passions that had seemed so compelling for Shakespeare's age had fallen out of fashion,
and grandeur wasn't what it used to be.
Similar considerations apply to Roger Kumble's
Cruel Intentions, which borrowed a general plot
outline from the French novel
Les Liaisons dangereuses by Choderlos de Laclos, but reset it in a
contemporary New York peopled by rich, spoiled teens in a kind of precursor to
Gossip Girl. So
liberal is the plot's translation that the less the viewer knows about the original, the better,
because the behavior of the film's puerile trash-talkers will seem more credible if one isn't
constantly ticking off a checklist of reference points to Laclos' novel or the various films and
plays that have been made from it, including Stephen Frears's
Dangerous Liaisons from 1988.
(And just to illustrate my point about imitation, this opening is an
homage to the introductory
style of a fellow reviewer. But I won't say which one.)
Cruel Intentions takes place in a hermetically sealed world of wealth where callow teens who
have grown up wanting for nothing have concluded that ordinary rules don't apply to them. The
king and queen of this world are a pair of vipers who were made for each other, but instead of
becoming a traditional couple, they're step-siblings, their parents having married each other after
divorces. Kathryn Merteuil (Sarah Michelle Gellar) and Sebastian Valmont (Ryan Phillippe)
share the same "I want what I want when I want it" approach to sex, but despite the David
Mamet-style frankness of their conversation, it's clear that the physical act of intimacy isn't what
interests them. It's the conquest, the subjugation of another person, the obliteration of his or her
will. That's why, despite their obvious attraction, they've never slept together. Neither will
submit to the other.
In the opening scene, Sebastian conquers (indirectly) his celebrity therapist, Dr. Greenbaum
(Swoosie Kurtz, whose appearance is a nod to
Dangerous Liaisons, in which she also appeared),
who has authored a bestseller on good parenting. Sebastian feigns a sincere session, which he
leaves just before the doctor takes a tearful call from her daughter, Marci (Tara Reid), who has
just discovered the nude pictures of her that Sebastian posted on the internet in a parody of her
mother's book cover. Dr. Greenbaum races after Sebastian, who grins while she pounds on a
window, in a shot that's a direct quotation from
The Graduate, one of director Kumble's favorite
films (I've included it in the extra screenshots).
But while Sebastian can be public and swaggering about his exploits, his stepsister Kathryn must
maintain a veneer of respectability. She's the class president of their elite private school, and
when Sebastian returns from therapy, she's receiving a visit from Mrs. "Bunny" Caldwell
(Christine Baranski, who took the role because her daughters were huge fans of Gellar's
Buffy
series). Mrs. Caldwell's daughter, Cecile (a pouting Selma Blair), is transferring. Will Kathryn
take her under her protective wing?
Unknown to Mrs. Caldwell, Kathryn's wing is laced with razor blades. Cecile is the new
girlfriend of Court Reynolds (Charlie O'Connell), who just dropped Kathryn after getting a
glimpse of her true self -- and Kathryn wants her rival destroyed. She asks Sebastian to seduce the
little innocent, but he has his sights on a more challenging target: Annette Hargrove (Reese
Witherspoon), the new headmaster's daughter, who has just published an article in
Seventeen
celebrating abstinence and virginity. Annoyed, Kathryn bets Sebastian that he'll fail (the stakes
being his vintage Jag vs.
complete access to her body), and lines up another candidate to corrupt
Cecile: her cello teacher, Ronald (Sean Patrick Thomas). Meanwhile, Kathryn continues
pretending to be Cecile's friend.
Sebastian starts laying his traps for Annette, who is staying at the palatial Long Island estate of
his Aunt Helen (Louise Fletcher), but she's been forewarned by someone. Furious, Sebastian
blackmails the source out of Annette's friend, Greg (Eric Mabius), a closeted gay football player
whom Sebastian arranges to surprise
in flagrante with a treacherous queen named Blaine (Joshua
Jackson, a long way from
Fringe). The informant is none other than "Bunny" Caldwell, and
Sebastian tells Kathryn that he's now more than happy to seduce Cecile for her, which he
proceeds to do with cold calculation, before turning back to Annette.
Then the impossible happens -- the supposedly heartless lothario falls in love. Sebastian is
shocked, but Kathryn is even more so. (Gellar understands this character perfectly; she gives
Kathryn a face like someone punched her in the stomach.) In a romantic comedy, this would be a
happy moment. In
Cruel Intentions, it triggers a cascade of disasters.
I've seen the film multiple times, including in its first theatrical run, and each time I wonder
whether it'll hold together. It always does, because writer/director Kumble and his production
team never lost sight of their central subject. Yes, this is a highly stylized, artificial and isolated
world, even down to its wardrobe and language; but that's what vast wealth can buy you. Yes,
these high school students speak an adult vocabulary describing acts of which their knowledge
seems more theoretical than real ("I wanna fuck!" shrieks Kathryn, who sounds like she's
describing an exercise class); it's an expression of their essential boredom with a life in which
everything is antiseptically easy. ("I'm sick of sleeping with these insipid Manhattan
debutantes!" exclaims Sebastian. "Nothing shocks them anymore.") The only experience that
quickens the pulse for these kids enough to make them feel alive is the sensation of bringing
another to heel; hence the incessant power games. Sure, their cruel behavior looks tawdry,
offensive and cheap, but so does a lot of socially acceptable adult conduct when it's stripped of
its usual disguises and played out by children. (Consider how unappealing Gordon Gekko's
seductively competitive greed appeared when it was enacted by the youthful Sean Parker in
The
Social Network.)
You have to admire Kumble's honesty (and his daring). He took a pedigreed literary source, then
systemically dispensed with every element that might have allowed his film to claim some shred
of that source's respectability. Out went the period setting, the high-toned language, the costume
drama: everything that might have given
Cruel Intentions the slightest hint of a "prestige"
picture. All he retained was the inexorable logic of vicious people doing nasty things. "Before we
go through with this, I just want to make you aware of the damage we're about to cause",
Sebastian says to Kathryn at one point. She pauses for a second in mock thought: "I'm aware."
And she is.