119 mins.; 2.35:1; colour; language: English
At Wikipedia, IMDb (6.3), Metacritic (69)
Imagine a world in which films didn't show people eating. You could show them talking about eating or trying to get food, you could show them getting ready for eating or munching after they'd bitten off a piece, but never, ever, were you allowed to show food entering the mouth. (If you wanted to show people while in the act of eating, you'd have to show them from behind or only shoot them from the neck down.) Sure, there'd be specialised eating pictures, but not only would those be strictly for adults, but they'd never been shown in regular cinemas. Many would point out that these pictures are only for you if you find watching people eating interesting because in terms of witty dialogue, gripping plot developments or interesting camera work they'd have next to nothing on offer. As far as characterization is concerned, well, everybody in those movies would really be into eating, all of the time.
That, of course, is what we have today with regards to sex. So when director Patrice Chéreau decided to include in Intimacy about four seconds' worth of shots of an erect penis, in one case entering a woman's mouth, it was a talking point at least in this country, giving the film free extra PR (not that that helped an awful lot).
But the way the film shows sexuality does not come across as a PR stunt at all. The sex scenes, which are far from erotic, fit seamlessly into the aesthetics of the film, which just seems to passively observe. It's natural that we'll see an erection here and there as sex is at the centre of the story: Jay and Claire meet each Wednesday in Jay's rundown London apartement - a shithole, really - and fuck. When they're done, she leaves. They keep conversation to a minimum. They don't know each other's names. But Jay gets curious and follows Claire after she leaves. This leads him into the basement of a pub where Claire and her amateur troupe perform The Glass Menagerie. Back upstairs, Jay strikes up a conversation with Andy, a pub regular. If Jay were played by Michael Douglas, you could see where this is going, but he's not.
The seemingly detached was the scenes are filmed goes along with a script that doesn't explain an awful lot. How did Jay and Claire meet? We never learn. We get a few flashbacks into Jay's past, but they're not particularly helpful, only showing us he used to be happier. This is the kind of thing that drives critics into creativity: Roger Ebert develops a theory on why Jay hates women, but, unless I've missed something, it is never established that he does. Edward Guthman informs us: "'Intimacy' tells the story of two people wishing to escape themselves and the burden of their memories through the purge of sex." Maybe.
And that's where the film leaves you: Without any answers, on the most anonymous, loveless London streets I've ever seen depicted in a film. And by that I don't mean it was shot in Tottenham.
***
The trailer, being a trailer, makes it look a little too dramatic:
#9, due on Wednesday, will be a star-studded, feelgood blockbuster. Promise!
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