The Age of Enlightment gave to the world some pretty controversial minds. At one end of the spectrum there was the Marquis de Sade who, no secret to anyone, created the concept that is now known as sadism. At the other end there is Choderlos de Laclos, who is widely known for creating this story which in essence is very close to Sade's dark heart even when it never reaches the extremes of his florid depictions of ritualistic, sexual perversion.
DANGEROUS LIAISONS, based on the novel "Les Liaisons Dangereuses", is this tale, Laclos' most known, adapted many times for television and screen, but never like this with such attention to detail to make it as French as possible, and bringing a classical sensibility to the front. Stephen Frears, in his American film debut, creates a lush visage of restrained yet swooning passions, icy stares, and hushed, measured speeches against the backdrop of the Ile-de-France and should have been the film of the year had it not been for the usual sentimentalism prevalent during the 1980's which gave the major awards to RAINMAN, a film centered around autism that, while delicate as a subject matter was hardly dramatic and today is barely memorable.
On the other hand, this story is. The dark comedy that pins two bored aristocrats against each other as they play God with other people's lives without realizing the devastating consequences that will result from this has been the stuff of legend and allure. Glenn Close, John Malkovich, and Michelle Pfeiffer all are beyond awards in their exacting and multidimensional portrayals of three very different people caught in a web of deceit. However the star of this adaptation has to be Christopher Hampton who immortalizes Laclos' vision in a subtle, yet powerful story filled with subtext and restrained cruelty. He's the one who suggests pages about his characters, most tellingly of the Marquis de Merteuil in three key scenes: in the first, opening sequence (which she also shares with the Vicomte de Valmont), she admires her reflection in a mirror with a smug expression akin to the Mona Lisa. She is in control and about to go through with her activities. She is dressed into an orgy of corsets and fabric, looking directly into the camera -- the Vicomte does the same as he is dressed -- which sets their characters' tones. They are mirror images of one another, each in their gender. Both are apparently, in full control.
The second telling revelation of the Marquise is when she arrives to the Volanges' to give advice to Cecile about virtue. You can see how she has her Mona Lisa smile on, which as soon as she gets off her carriage turns to a rictus of anguish. Cut to her later saying about shame: "You find the shame is like the pain. You only feel it once." As her head rests against a window you may see her eyes briefly moisten. Her expression is, however, blank, but very deep and expressive. It's the first time she cracks open the door to her inner face, but just a little and only for a second, but what a second! The last time Hampton describes Merteuil is in a scene which mirrors the first scene: watch how again, she looks at herself in her mirror. Her traps have been discovered and she faces her own self and uncertain future, having destroyed everyone around her and being left alone. It's the calm right before the taking of the Bastille, hence why the timing of the story has to be in the Eighteenth Century, right before the French Revolution. And in being so revealing while using expressions, Hampton creates the internal dialog that was the driving force behind the epistolary nature of the novel. His rendition of the Madame de Tourvel and Valmont are no less complex. Michelle Pfieffer, with minimal dialog and her wide, doe eyes, is given a rewarding role that explodes during her face-off with Malkovich when her character is betrayed. Their physicality skirts with sadism and sets the stage for Valmont's own internal pain as he faces his own mortality, since he has been led to destroy the one he loves, and for a promise and nothing else.
It's been no mystery that films that lose to other, "of the moment" films become timeless and the stuff that makes movie magic. DANGEROUS LIAISONS, nearly twenty years later, still bites, especially when from a light comedy it becomes this horrific monster staring at us from the abyss, more so because of the exquisite cruelty that we cause to others in the name of reputation and vanity. And in that, the Marquise is right: vanity and love are incompatible. Just look at Valmont and you will see why.
DANGEROUS LIAISONS, based on the novel "Les Liaisons Dangereuses", is this tale, Laclos' most known, adapted many times for television and screen, but never like this with such attention to detail to make it as French as possible, and bringing a classical sensibility to the front. Stephen Frears, in his American film debut, creates a lush visage of restrained yet swooning passions, icy stares, and hushed, measured speeches against the backdrop of the Ile-de-France and should have been the film of the year had it not been for the usual sentimentalism prevalent during the 1980's which gave the major awards to RAINMAN, a film centered around autism that, while delicate as a subject matter was hardly dramatic and today is barely memorable.
On the other hand, this story is. The dark comedy that pins two bored aristocrats against each other as they play God with other people's lives without realizing the devastating consequences that will result from this has been the stuff of legend and allure. Glenn Close, John Malkovich, and Michelle Pfeiffer all are beyond awards in their exacting and multidimensional portrayals of three very different people caught in a web of deceit. However the star of this adaptation has to be Christopher Hampton who immortalizes Laclos' vision in a subtle, yet powerful story filled with subtext and restrained cruelty. He's the one who suggests pages about his characters, most tellingly of the Marquis de Merteuil in three key scenes: in the first, opening sequence (which she also shares with the Vicomte de Valmont), she admires her reflection in a mirror with a smug expression akin to the Mona Lisa. She is in control and about to go through with her activities. She is dressed into an orgy of corsets and fabric, looking directly into the camera -- the Vicomte does the same as he is dressed -- which sets their characters' tones. They are mirror images of one another, each in their gender. Both are apparently, in full control.
The second telling revelation of the Marquise is when she arrives to the Volanges' to give advice to Cecile about virtue. You can see how she has her Mona Lisa smile on, which as soon as she gets off her carriage turns to a rictus of anguish. Cut to her later saying about shame: "You find the shame is like the pain. You only feel it once." As her head rests against a window you may see her eyes briefly moisten. Her expression is, however, blank, but very deep and expressive. It's the first time she cracks open the door to her inner face, but just a little and only for a second, but what a second! The last time Hampton describes Merteuil is in a scene which mirrors the first scene: watch how again, she looks at herself in her mirror. Her traps have been discovered and she faces her own self and uncertain future, having destroyed everyone around her and being left alone. It's the calm right before the taking of the Bastille, hence why the timing of the story has to be in the Eighteenth Century, right before the French Revolution. And in being so revealing while using expressions, Hampton creates the internal dialog that was the driving force behind the epistolary nature of the novel. His rendition of the Madame de Tourvel and Valmont are no less complex. Michelle Pfieffer, with minimal dialog and her wide, doe eyes, is given a rewarding role that explodes during her face-off with Malkovich when her character is betrayed. Their physicality skirts with sadism and sets the stage for Valmont's own internal pain as he faces his own mortality, since he has been led to destroy the one he loves, and for a promise and nothing else.
It's been no mystery that films that lose to other, "of the moment" films become timeless and the stuff that makes movie magic. DANGEROUS LIAISONS, nearly twenty years later, still bites, especially when from a light comedy it becomes this horrific monster staring at us from the abyss, more so because of the exquisite cruelty that we cause to others in the name of reputation and vanity. And in that, the Marquise is right: vanity and love are incompatible. Just look at Valmont and you will see why.