An attractive young couple find themselves drawn into the web of a strange, elegant man in 1990's The Comfort of Strangers. It's a fascinating little gem of a movie, a subtly crafted piece that compels contemplation.
There are no weak links on the staff. It comes from a book by Ian McEwan with a screenplay by Harold Pinter and it's directed by Paul Schrader. It has music by Angelo Badalamenti. Rupert Everett and Natasha Richardson play the young couple, Christopher Walken plays the sinister man and Helen Mirren plays his wife.
The film's typically described as an erotic thriller but, while eroticism is certainly an element, it addresses a broader aspect of human nature. Everett and Richardson find their accumulated instincts for politeness and socialisation draw them into Walken's company like gravitational pull. There are only a few explicit hints that he has an agenda that's alien and hostile to them.
Nowadays, Walken's performances accentuate his peculiar mannerisms but here they're used to speak volumes on their own. Mirren is also quite subtle. The really sinister thing about them, what eventually makes sense of the behaviour, is that it's a kind of pantomime, a veneer of humanity to cover a carnal interest in the young couple with complete disregard for their humanity. Walken's character is like a fascist dictator without a country.
Or he and Mirren are like a country of two. I was reminded how xenophobia can make a people regard foreigners as animals and they therefore feel comfortable taking whatever liberties you might take with a cat or a dog.
The film also has beautiful cinematography and production design. The Comfort of Strangers is available on The Criterion Channel.
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