Fatal Attraction Pt 1: Everything AND the Kitchen Sink

Three-Part Mini-Series
Every once in a blue moon we'll take a movie and baton pass it around the team and really dive in. This time Nathaniel's going solo. But if you like this approach to investigate a movie we've gone long and deep before on the following films: Rebecca (1940), West Side Story (1961), Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (1966), Rosemary's Baby (1968), Cabaret (1972), Silence of the Lambs (1991), Thelma & Louise (1991), Aladdin (1992), and  A League of Their Own (1992) -Editor

by Nathaniel R

Did you know/remember that Fatal Attraction was released in Paramount's 75th year? I did not but it's a detail that feels somehow right. Founded in 1912, the second oldest of Hollywood's few surviving major studios (Universal predates it) celebrated its diamond anniversary in zeitgeist style with one of its all time most profitable and leggiest hits. The Adrian Lyne thriller, which we'll discuss in three installments, was the second highest grossing film of 1987 and left the kind of cultural footprint that most movies can only dream of; it kept people talking for months on end, it ignited Hollywood's late eighties /early nineties erotic thriller craze, it made Glenn Close into a superstar by casting her against type (this detail is mostly forgotten but we'll get there), indirectly helped Michael Douglas win his Wall Street Best Actor Oscar, and took a B genre film all the way to the Oscars with six nominations.

While box office success and Oscar success (objective, mostly) has never automatically correlated with quality (subjective, mostly), you did once-upon-a-time have a much greater chance of the former by doubling down on latter. Which is just what Fatal Attraction did. All these years later, it really holds up as an example of Hollywood making grade A art with a B genre. So let's see why in scene-by-scene form...

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Demi Moore lost the Oscar but she’s still a winner

by Cláudio Alves

THE SUBSTANCE (2024) Coralie Fargeat | © MUBI

Bedecked in a silvery Armani Privé number and Chopard diamonds, Demi Moore arrived at the 97th Academy Awards like a winner. She left a winner, too, despite the lack of a little golden man complementing her crushed ice glamour. Saying such things may seem like a pity party or a way for fans to cope with their idol's losses, but it rings true here. Though she lost the Oscar, Demi Moore effectively changed the narrative of her career and forced both the industry and the public to reassess her worth as a performer, her history, her legacy. From "popcorn actress" to respected thespian, this is a reinvention of miraculous proportions and deeply deserved, too.

In many ways, these things are bigger than AMPAS' golden trophy, and may even have a bigger impact. After this season, nobody will look at The Substance star the same way ever again. At least, I won't…

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Berlinale #6: Kirsten Stewart in "Love Lies Bleeding"

by Elisa Giudici

LOVE LIES BLEEDING © Anna Kooris

A young woman hitchhikes along the edge of an American road, wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and carrying a backpack with her belongings. Jackie or Nomi? It's just one of the passages in Love Lies Bleeding that brings to mind Paul Verhoeven's Showgirls. The two films have a lot in common, starting with a rare attitude in American cinema: looking at an "unpresentable" American reality from within, while completely abstaining from any kind of judgment, morality, or dramatic commentary. Other similarities include the dream of the Vegas show (Jackie wants to participate in a bodybuilding competition) and a constant male presence as a judge and dangerous force. Director Rose Glass demonstrates the same ability as Verhoeven to make such bold and decisive choices, with a certain taste for the quip, that the film will inevitably be divisive.

With this introduction, I don't mean to say that Love Lies Bleeding is looking to reference Showgirls...

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Doc Corner: 'We Kill For Love: The Lost World of the Erotic Thriller'

By Glenn Charlie Dunks

If you’re restless for the return of Karina Longworth’s You Must Remember This podcast, "Erotic ‘90s", then We Kill For Love: The Lost World of the Erotic Thriller may be for you. In many ways, Anthony Petra’s near three-hour video essay (even so much as to get the opening credit of “A video by”) is like the direct-to-video cousin to Longworth’s long-form audio series. And I don’t mean that as a pejorative. I hope the director wouldn't take it that way, either, given Petra’s desire to focus more attentively on the less fondly remembered, less glossy works of (largely independent) Hollywood eroticism that more often than not skipped theatrical exhibition. Instead they instead found money and eager viewers on the shelves of video stores and as late-night cable network fare across the country...

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Erotic Thrillers: Part 4 – Naughty Nineties

by Cláudio Alves

THE COMFORT OF STRANGERS (1990) Paul Schrader

The last time we checked on the Criterion Channel's Erotic Thrillers collection, it was to consider the voyeuristic properties of late-80s cinema. Moving on to the next decade, let's get over the nineties in one go. During this era, the erotic thriller reached its apotheosis of influence and trashiness, gradually fading into obsolescence as the millennium approached. It was an epoch of Fatal Attraction copycats and prestige-infused sensuality, a final resurgence of neo-noir aspirations, the rise and fall of Joe Eszterhas, Sharon Stone's stardom, and direct-to-video sleaze. Criterion traces these arcs through eleven titles, spotlighting great cinema and irredeemable garbage with the same gusto…

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