A tale of love and infidelity

Film review: Unfaithful

The movies have of late depicted variations of the theme of a woman giving in to blind passion. Killing Me Softly by the Chinese film master Chen Kaige shows Heather Graham finding a total stranger, Joseph Fiennes, so enchanting, mysterious and irresistible she makes love to him in public places and then marries him. In Gamitan by the newcomer Quark Henares, Maui Taylor gives herself to a college athlete, Wendell Ramos, only to be dumped like a hot potato. We learn that in Maryo J. de los Reyes’ new film, Laman, a wife (Lolita de Leon) succumbs to the charm of a low-class heel, Albert Martinez, loses all shame until both of them get their comeuppance in a riveting, reportedly morally-correct climax.

Then there is the film Unfaithful by the Hollywood director Adrian Lyne (Fatal Attraction), about a happily-married woman who literally bumps into a book dealer on a Manhattan street one windy day and jumps into an illicit liaison with him.

Unfaithful is a remake of the 1969 French film La Femme Infidele by Claude Chabrol, one of the exponents of the so-called French Nouvelle Vague (New Wave) movement in the ’50s and ’60s. Chabrol is a Hitchcock disciple, so his body of work carries the elements of violence, murder (or homicide), Catholic guilt, and deep psychological probing, which are characteristic of the great filmmaker and Master of Suspense. In either French or Hollywood film, the unfaithful woman’s psyche is probed in a sympathetic manner. When she gives in to her emotions, the audience does not think of her as silly, insane or nymphomaniacal.

For the most part, the differences between the old and new, adapted versions are minor–in the setting which is changed from a French suburb and Paris, to a New York suburb and Manhattan; in the minor characters and little dramatic incidents.

But the situation are basically the same: here is one happy, middle-class family consisting of a loving, moneyed husband (Richard Gere as Edward Sumner), a beautiful, loving and otherwise faithful wife (Diane Lane as Connie), and a normal, average little boy. Theirs is an insular, blissful home life. As a housewife bound by conventions, Connie cannot ask for more: she lives in the lap of luxury and contentment (including sexual satisfaction).

All’s fine and dandy until she meets this exotic-looking book dealer Paul (Olivier Martinez) who is described by one of her girl friends as a "heartthrob." Immediately, there is strong attraction, though she does not succumb so easily. Only after a time does the friendship develop into full-fledged, passionate affair.

The French version is more critical of bourgeois society. Chabrol presents the woman (played with understated passion by his real-life wife Stephane Audran) as contented but bored of her nice, middle-class domesticity. She loves her husband, but hey, something is lacking–some excitement, some danger maybe or some sin? In the Hollywood version, Connie is totally satisfied with her life, only to face temptation in an amoral, easy-going young hunk with a French accent, with whom she yields to reckless lovemaking at a restaurant toilet.

When Edward realizes his wife’s infidelity–due to some professional sleuthing, an irate office worker’s outburst, and the momentous visit to the other man’s flat–he also sees the boring predictability and middle-class life he has given the woman he loves. During this unannounced visit and civilized conversation with Paul, however, Edward sees more telltale signs of Connie’s adulterous act, like Paul’s unmade bed and the crystal ball Edward gave her as a wedding anniversary present.

Too much. He weeps openly, unashamedly in front of the man who makes quick love to his wife and is breaking up with his marriage. Then, murderous rage. He sees black. Then a little Hitchcockian horror and suspense.

Unfaithful, much like its original source, examines how an act of passion affects three decent, intelligent people. Nobody is villain here–only the weakness that the flesh is heir to. Civilized behavior is tested, its limit stretched. The woman does not emerge from this experience guiltless and unrepentant. Which makes it a highly moral movie. Ironically, the husband’s criminal act also becomes a reaffirmation of his love for the wife.

When the movie ends, both man and woman are talking about starting life all over again. Somehow there is that odd feeling that despite this open-ended closing shot, the arm of the law will invariably reach them, or maybe this feeling could simply be guilt in moviegoers who want these erring partners to succeed in their plan?

As far as the French version is concerned, however, the film ends more decisively, showing the irony in the growing physical distance between the husband and wife in the closing shot, and their growing simultaneous affection for each other.

A small note here: the French film locally titled Unfaithful Wife (not to be confused with a Filipino film directed by Peque Gallaga) was shown on the now-demolished Gala theater, a first-run moviehouse on Evangelista Street in Sta. Cruz, Manila (near Recto Ave. and Quiapo Church). It was marketed as a "bomba" movie.