In the previous installment of my ongoing Sex Crimes column, I explored a failed effort to revitalize the erotic thriller sub-genre in anticipation of Deep Water, the latest film from legendary director Adrian Lyne.
The new film, starring Ben Affleck and Ana de Armas, received mixed reviews following its debut on Hulu in April. This was after a release schedule that included multiple delays, some of which were likely a result of the pandemic, but also perhaps because the studio was unsure how to promote the film.
Still, the lack of enthusiasm for one of the sub genre’s key contributors (if not its most important creative talent) was a little surprising. After all, this is the director behind no less than three of the most iconic texts associated with Erotic Thrillers.
Flashing back to 1987 and Fatal Attraction only puts the current moment in starker contrast. The infidelity thriller features an iconic unhinged performance from Glenn Close alongside Michael Douglas, starting his run as the gold standard for shitty dudes in the 80s and 90s. With a supporting cast that includes Ann Archer as Douglas’s wife Beth and a truly adorable Ellen Latzen as their only child, Fatal Attraction was a cultural phenomenon; the film grossed $156M in North America and $320M worldwide on a modest $14M budget.
So why did this Erotic Thriller hit so hard when it was released 35 years ago? In brief: by amalgamating all of the sexual and political concerns of the mid-to-late-80s in one immensely satisfying package.
As any film historian – and particularly horror fans – can attest, Hollywood has long conflated sex and death. It’s a reliable and lucrative business practice that dates back to the beginning of cinema; it can be seen in the vast majority of the Universal Monster Movies, as well as the femme fatale in Film Noir (a subgenre from which Erotic Thrillers borrow heavily). Although Erotic Thrillers aren’t exclusively driven by death (many of them do not actually feature any fatalities), the “thriller” component leans on the illicit, the danger, and the forbidden, with the ultimate penance for transgressing resulting in imprisonment, isolation, and, yes, death.
Arriving near the end of a decade ravaged by the AIDS epidemic, escalating divorce rates and Reagan-era Conservative politics, Fatal Attraction explored themes and topics that were at the forefront of the cultural zeitgeist. The film features Douglas’ Dan Gallagher, a successful lawyer working in book publishing who is living a perfect middle-class yuppie existence, including a happy marriage with Beth, a healthy young daughter, a dog and a cramped apartment in New York City.
Arguably this picture-perfect existence is the most damning element of Fatal Attraction: Dan has every conceivable aspect of the American Dream, but when he meets editor Alex Forrest – first at a company party, then at a Saturday work meeting – he’s willing to turn his ideal life upside down to pursue an affair with her.
Naturally, this turns out badly for Dan when Alex becomes increasingly possessive of his time and attention, and her intentions escalate from harassment to bunny murder and beyond. The message of the film, taken at face value, is pretty clear and straightforward: even the men who have everything can be tempted to step out on their perfect lives, but the penalty for transgressing could cost them everything (Also: sexually active single women are “crazy”).
This simply, albeit slightly reductive reading of Fatal Attraction is thoroughly in keeping with the conservative bent of the time. The film is built on a foundation of socially constructed fears: hand wringing about the sanctity of marriage at a time when it was statistically falling apart, the dangers inherent in “risky” extramarital sex when fear of HIV infection was at a high (and, importantly, no longer confined exclusively to marginalized gay men), and years of pent-up backlash against female sexuality following the women’s liberation movement of the 70s.
These elements are all starkly on display in the film’s test audience-mandated bombastic ending, wherein Alex becomes a kind of slasher villain who is nearly impossible to kill. It’s telling that the eventual ending is both more bombastic and punitive towards Alex’s character. In the original ending, by contrast, Dan was imprisoned for Alex’s murder after she dies by suicide. This original treatment would have effectively “punished” both members of the affair.
Instead, the infamous ending only punishes Alex: first, she is drowned by Dan, then she is shot to death by Beth. The married couple, who have been separated for most of the film’s last act, come together as a unified front to battle Alex and, tellingly, it is Beth, the “innocent” victim of Dan’s infidelity, who strikes the final blow against the adulterous woman who threatened her marriage.
In this way Fatal Attraction adheres to the conventions of both film noir and melodrama: transgressors are brought back into the socially acceptable fold (Dan: with his milquetoast heterosexual Norman Rockwell-esque marriage) or dispatched (Alex: whose ferocious sexual appetite could never be allowed to go unpunished). In this way, Fatal Attraction, particularly its climax, embodies the conservative family values of the mid-to-late-80s.
What’s fascinating is how the film’s messaging has been turned on its head over time. As noted by Gena Radcliffe in a recent Kill By Kill episode on the film, the comments section of YouTube clips of Fatal Attraction not only hypothesize about Alex’s potential undiagnosed mental illness(es), but also identifies Dan as the true villain, in no small part for leading Alex on and encouraging their affair.
Of course, there’s a great deal more to Fatal Attraction than its moralistic family-first messaging; it features incredibly assured direction by Lyne, a number of smoldering sex scenes that contemporary films are sadly lacking, and Archer and Latzen are among the most fleshed-out family members in any Erotic Thriller. The film remains the gold standard template for the subgenre, even though its sexual politics are firmly rooted in the concerns of the time.
What’s shocking is how approximately a decade later a studio film would come along that is so brazen and audacious that it makes even the most scandalous elements of Fatal Attraction feel tame by comparison.
That’s next month on Sex Crimes.
Sex Crimes is a new column that explores the legacy of erotic thrillers, from issues of marital infidelity to inappropriate underage affairs to sexualized crimes. In this subgenre, sex and violence are inexplicably intertwined as the dangers of intercourse take on a whole new meaning.
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