Intimidade

Like most films either adapted from Hanif Kureishi's fiction or having screenplays written by him (`My Beautiful Laundrette', `Sammy And Rosie Get Laid' as well as this film, which lists Kureishi as a co-writer along with Anne-Louise Trividic and director Patrice Chereau), `Intimacy' circles its subject in an indirect manner, never declaring what it's truly about but leaving a distinct impression. This can make for difficult viewing, requiring an inordinate amount of concentration to keep up (and which wears you down after a while) and it only sinks in long after it's over. But that's the film's strong point: the writers prefer to have you draw your own conclusions, with dialogue that forces you to read between the lines of an affair in which both participants seem to be using it to address their individual demons. Chereau and Kureishi are more interested in their characters' circumstances than their actions but it's precisely their circumstances that make their actions compelling. Mark Rylance and Kerry Fox are the lovers (and they're excellent, even though the fact their trysts are presented in explicit detail may overshadow their performances), with Rylance as a bitter bartender who has spontaneously abandoned his family and Fox as a drama teacher stifled in her marriage to a cabbie (Mike Leigh favorite Timothy Spall, also very fine) whom Rylance befriends in an attempt to understand her; it's the tensions that build around the trio that drives the narrative. It's an unhappy yet sensitive film that may distance some audiences and push others into uncomfortable areas they may not want to visit, yet there's no denying its inquisitive, intelligent presence.

A disturbing, theatrical, thought-provoking, difficult-to-watch film which revolves around a sexual relationship between two people who almost never talk to each other. There is passion but no intimacy in this relationship, in fact there is no intimacy between any of the characters in this film. The male character begins to yearn intimacy, but the female character seems content with 'meaningless' sex. Overall the film is a dark and uncomfortable study, well acted but a bit too "arty" for my liking.

You will very, very rarely see a film with such explicit sex made is L.A. Thats because, since long ago American filmmakers worry tons more about their rating and therefore the box office attendance.

"We better not go too far, we'll loose money" is the bottom line in Hollywood. The raw and and utterly believable sex scenes are the symbol in this independent film for the sincerity and genuine attempt by the filmmakers to tell a story about how people might really behave under certain conditions.

That being said, the story line becomes harder to accept as the plot unfolds. Even tho the acting is superb by every player, the more that happened, the more distanced I became. Conflict between characters and their motivation became just more and more unbelievable, even irritating. You see the writer pushing and pushing the storyline until you don't care about the story anymore, instead of being taken in and moved, as one should be. (In spite of the writing, the film is definitely worth seeing and nevertheless refreshing in the face of Star Vehicle Movies, Action Junk, as well as guarded and censored sex scenes that are the standard fare of Hollywood standards today).

This film was made with the sentiment of "Let's make a good movie, no holds barred, no matter what" instead of "Make a movie about whatever you want, but make sure its a hit at the box office".

Though it may not achieve all its aims, Patrice Chereau's would-be existentialist drama, adapted from stories by Hanif Kureishi, makes a welcome change from the recent run of London-based thrillers and comedies. Intriguing while it focuses on the obsessive sexual relationship between non-committal Claire (Kerry Fox) and embittered, divorced Jay (Mark Rylance), the film tends to lose its way as more characters and situations are introduced. Shot, with a lot of hand-held camera, in Jay's untidy flat, in crowded bars, and in busy South London streets, about the only visually beautiful frames are those showing Claire's and Jay's intertwined naked bodies, relaxing after their frenzied love-making.

Meeting once a week, and hardly speaking to each other, both Claire and Jay seem to be satisfied with little more than sex; but his curiosity takes over, he begins to follow her, and is resentful and envious when faced with the realisation that she has a life of her own and may simply be using him. The movie explores questions such as - how far can sex alone can take a relationship; and do words add to or detract from love? Another theme is that of role playing, on the stage and in life.

Both Fox and Rylance are superb in their scenes together; and Timothy Spall is excellent as Claire's talkative, down-to-earth husband. But I confess to finding Claire's friend Betty (Marianne Faithfull) a baffling character. Some sequences, particularly those involving Jay's friend Victor (Alastair Galbraith) and gay French barman Ian (Philippe Calvario), seem simply to be padding. Possibly, Chereau felt the need to insert personalities and scenes from Kureishi's books, even though these were not relevant to the central Claire-Jay situation. Finally, yes, the over-hyped explicit sex is necessary for the movie to work.

This film was controversial when it first appeared because of the fairly frank sexual scenes, although thy are mostly not real (apart from what seems to be actual oral sex at one point). But there is absolutely nothing erotic or unusual about them; they chiefly resemble farm animals mating in a mucky stable. Their coldness is deliberate, and an intrinsic part of this story about emotional chasms. Intimacy is what is missing from the character's lives. The overall milieu, which might be characterised as 'tatty-London' helps this a lot; the whole film is quite depressing in that sense. The least successful part of the film is the depiction of the relationship between Claire and her drama class student, which becomes tedious. The film is immeasurably helped by Timothy Spall's lugubrious taxi driver husband, at once knowing but also in denial.