Oscar voters aren't the greatest fans of erotic thrillers. Despite that, there are some times when a cinematic achievement is so undeniable that AMPAS' usual prejudices are thrown out the window. One good example is Adrian Lyne's Fatal Attraction, a cultural phenomenon that, in 1987, managed to nab six Academy Award nominations, including for Best Picture and Best Actress. Years later, another of Lyne's erotic reveries would be honored with an important nod, though this time it was just in the Best Actress category. The picture was 2002's Unfaithful and the actress was Diane Lane delivering one of the most magnificent performances of her career. Her work as Connie Sumner is a masterclass in sexual discovery and abandonment, guilt, and desire.
If for nothing else, Lane earned the nomination for a scene in the middle of the movie, when her adulterous character is returning home by train, after her first tryst with Olivier Martinez's sexy bookdealer…
Unfaithful is a lustful film that's never afraid of gilding the lily, style-wise. From a constant windstorm to a myriad of insert shots of people's hands, touching the cold glass of a snow globe or the hot skin of a lover, it's a formally robust movie. Because of that, it feels a bit disconcerting that, after many scenes building up to a sexual indiscretion, we cut from it before anything too steamy comes to pass. One moment Diane Lane is being taken by hunky Olivier Martinez to his bedroom, and then we're unceremoniously plopped into the sardine can environment of a train.
In this metallic box, we find our heroine contorted into a cramped seat, her naked knee bearing the bloody wounds she got on the day she met her lover. Initially, she's looking out the window, lost in thoughts we are not privy to, but such secrecy is quickly dispelled. In no time, Lane's falling apart in exciting remembrance. Even before we get a flashback to the consummation of the affair, the actress conjures the thrill of sex with her physicality. Notice the way she keeps touching her face, her neck, her chest, perhaps trying to catch the ghost of her lover's presence over her body.
No matter how intimate the moment might be, Connie isn't unaware of her expressivity. Lane plays her like a woman who's too happy to care what other people think but whose body is accustomed to modesty. The way her nervous hand covers a smile speaks of the muscle memory of a suburban housewife whose candid emotions aren't to be openly shared. Even in bedroom flashbacks, the actress plays the reticence of the adulterer, the doubt, and the shame overcome by an explosive desire. As we cut back and forth, between the memory and the now, it feels like the woman in bed is trying to hide how good she feels while the woman in the tram exposes all that pleasure.
In some ways, the remembrance of pleasure can be more exhilarating than the moment of being pleased. Unencumbered by present reality, the sex of the past gains a mythic quality that can be even more wonderful than the real thing. As we watch Connie remember how good it all felt, we watch Diane Lane play someone surrendering themselves to the joy of that memory. On the train seat, Connie is transported and Lane makes sure we, the audience, are similarly impacted. Hints of shame, the guilt of a cheating wife, the insecurity of someone with a younger lover, all those things surface during this recital of non-verbal ecstasy. However, they're always followed by another ebullient smile.
As the scene unravels, we get a sense that Connie wants to giggle like the teenage girl she once was. It's as if the attention of a new lover cracked open the layers of ossified contentment that had built up over years of matrimony. She is exploding and Lane is exploding with her. When the memories start to get racier, when the woman in bed sheds her mask and reveals her want, Lane plays her train scene like an orgasm in slow motion. In its afterglow, she appears surprised at herself, maybe a bit bashful, but happy. That happiness may hide behind indifference and concern as soon as she gets up but we have seen it. Connie is a changed woman.
Throughout its story, Unfaithful sometimes edges a bit too close to utter absurdity. The decisions of the protagonist are hard to swallow as she lets her affair drive her to peaks of recklessness that seem at odds with the behavior she showed at the start of the film. While the script may present an incoherent characterization, the actress never does and a key to her success is the train scene. In it, Lane plays a woman so consumed by her experience that we can believe she'd go to extremes to relive that high. With her silent expressions, Diane Lane makes that reaction shot into Unfaithful's most honest, most memorable moment. It's also its sexiest scene, which is a great feat in a film full of half-naked Olivier Martinez.
Considering all this magnificence, how could AMPAS resist Diane Lane's besotting performance?