waterworks weeknights at 11 in April
Have you ever wondered why people don't talk more about Tony Goldwyn's A Walk on the Moon (1999)? It's one of those pictures that contains all sorts of stuff people came to love afterwards in embryonic or transformational stages. It was here that Diane Lane practiced the mesmerizingly guilty adulteress act that she'd be Oscar nominated for in Unfaithful (2002). It was the moment when Viggo Mortensen, so often backgrounded in pictures till then, revealed that he was a Star. It was also the mainstream bridge between Anna Paquin's sexually curious wicked child (The Piano) and sexually wicked curious psychic (True Blood) since she played one of her most ordinary roles as a teenager struggling with all the hormones swirling around inside her and outside of her as her screen mother (Lane) was also experiencing a sexual awakening.
It was even in A Walk On the Moon that Liev Schreiber played the uptight wronged husband and, perhaps learning that Sex-On-A-Stick-Wife-Stealer was the better role, flipped parts for The Painted Veil (2006), bedding Naomi Watts (onscreen) which he's been doing ever since offscreen. Now, maybe we're reading too much into it. But the point is this: We like A Walk on the Moon.
Mostly it's an enjoyable picture because Diane & Viggo were at the arguable peak of their screen beauty and looked even more sensational paired. Certain star pairings just elevate everything, right? And does any actress do 'aroused but totally conflicted about it' as well as Diane Lane? There are moments in this performance that are just mesmerizing like the one pictured above wherein she shyly lets Viggo give her a necklace, briefly daring to meet his gaze before dropping her head into his chest in submission. Her shyness is fascinatingly mixed in by the actress because the repetitive act of visiting his mobile clothing store is rather brazen; she knows instinctively what awaits her therein. Viggo is such a smooth and hypnotic ladykiller that her legs are over his shoulders before she's realized she's horizontal. Next thing you know, she's let her hair down metaphorically enough to experience sex in the outdoors. Under a waterfall, God's own high pressure shower.
More after the jump [mild nudity] including a question for film historians with a minor in sex scenes.
Their physical beauty aside, with the acknowledgement that it's very hard to set aside, the love scene is actually pretty steamy even if it's a bit derivative (was Don't Look Now the movie that invented the editing technique of mixing pre and post-coital behavior directly into the sex scene for a before, during and after wraparound sensual effect? Any film historians know?)
While we're watching them enjoy God's awesome water pressure (have you ever stood under a waterfall? Wow, it's forceful) we're watching him coax her into leaping off a cliff. Get it?
A Walk on the Moon is so shameless about this big metaphor that it even underscores her sexual awakening / philandering with Joni Mitchell's "Cactus Tree". Which goes a little something like this.
There's a man who's been out sailing
In a decade full of dreams
And he takes her to a schooner
And he treats her like a queen
Bearing beads from California
With their amber stones and green
He has called her from the harbor
He has kissed her with his freedom
He has heard her off to starboard
In the breaking and the breathing
Of the water weeds
While she was busy being free
There's a man who's climbed a mountain
And he's calling out her name
And he hopes her heart can hear three thousand miles
He calls again
He can think her there beside him
He can miss her just the same
He has missed her in the forest
While he showed her all the flowers
And the branches sang the chorus
As he climbed the scaley towers
Of a forest tree
While she was somewhere being free
The best part of the scene is the laughter -- such great chemistry these two have and they haven't worked together again (sigh) -- and the relaxation that seems to settle into her.
Of course the joint probably helped with the relaxation part.
But be careful how busy your freedom gets. Next thing you know you're a middle-aged mom hanging with the stoned throngs at Woodstock while your daughter is losing her shit back home.
