Sarah Michelle Gellar

Misunderstood Masterpieces 12.18.07: Cruel Intentions

…or, It May Be Cruel, but I’m Not Quite Sure About Intentions

For some reason, in the late ‘80s there was a vogue of adapting the Choderlos de Laclos novel Les liaisons dangereuses for the screen. In fact, two films were made based from this work of French literature: 1988’s Dangerous Liaisons and 1989’s Valmont. As it’s been a while since I’ve seen either movie, I’ll try to break down the plot of them as best I can . . .

In the 1700s , French women loved pushing their bosoms onto their collarbones and piling their hair on their head. Colin Firth had bad caps on his teeth while John Malkovich was still bald. Glenn Close schemed and laughed a lot. John Malkovich got it on with a very nubile Uma Thurman. Annette Bening took a bath and laughed about it. Michelle Pfieffer had empty light bulbs attached to her back while Meg Tilly died a tragic death and disappeared from Hollywood, ne’er to be seen again. Perhaps that’s what made her sister turn to poker for solace. In the end, Keanu Reeves slew Colin Firth in a duel, but Fairuza Balk was pregnant, so there was much rejoicing anyway. Yay.

Ten years later, it was decided that two versions of this tale weren’t enough . . . there needed to be more! In fact, there needed to be a modern high-school version of the story! Wait . . . what? Yes; due perhaps in part to the startling crop of talented young actors popping up via the WB and elsewhere, someone elected to create a teenage adaptation of Les liaisons dangereuses for the silver screen. Though fairly famous and successful in its release, 1999’s Cruel Intentions may not match up to its literary forebears; in fact, it may just be a Misunderstood Masterpiece . . . let’s find out!

Not one minute in, the film is already disappointingly emo, as the credits fly forebodingly over a giant cemetery. On a highway bordering the cemetery, Ryan Phillippe – who, thanks to his francophonic surname, I shall refer to as "Phillippe" for the remainder of the film – drives his ostentatiously fancy car into a city that just happens to be New York. It seems, continuing the emo trend, that he has an appointment with his psychiatrist . . . Swoosie Kurtz. Geez! I can’t get away from her! Phillippe reveals that he’s hormonally tortured and, apparently, a sex addict, so Swoosie rewards Phillippe with a self-help book. Umm . . . doesn’t that defeat the purpose of going to see a psychiatrist?

Phillippe, being a recovering sex addict, goes into remission when he compliments Swoosie’s legs; she shoots him down by telling him she’s going on a book tour. It’s so obvious that she wants to explore just what doctor-patient privilege really entails, though. Phillippe, meanwhile, moves on to the next possible conquest: Swoosie’s daughter, Tara Reid. Huh? Swoosie tells Phillippe that she’s out of his league – but Jeremy Shockey is? – so Phillippe leaves, dejected, and Swoosie takes a call from her distraught daughter, who just found . . . shocking pictures of herself on the Internet! Hmm . . . I wonder if it’s the one where her chest falls out of her dress. Or the more recent ones of her lotioning herself up in a bikini. Or even the entire run of Taradise; now that certainly was shocking. Swoosie, showing an intelligence far beyond most in the film, discerns that this is all Phillippe’s doing, so she freaks out and beats up a rent-a-cop, while Phillippe calmly scores a little more poontang.

Elsewhere, a very young looking Selma Blair and her mom (Christine Baranski) meet with snotty socialite Buffy Summers (Sarah Michelle Gellar). Selma’s mom wants Selma to be Buffy’s underling, since they’re going to be going to school together in the fall. Buffy puts on an air of false piety, but that’s quickly broken down when Selma reveals that she just wants some nookie. And, speaking of nookie, the meeting is rudely interrupted by a quite impetuous Phillippe, who scandalizes the proceedings with some dirty jokes. Selma’s mom is not amused, so she and her daughter take their leave, while Buffy calms her nerves with a little toot of coke. She then patronizes Phillippe because, due to a past liaison, she wants REVENGE against Selma and her boyfriend – who happens to be Buffy’s ex-boyfriend, Charlie O’Connell. Apparently, he’s some sort of famous bachelor or something.

Buffy, on her path to REVENGE, requests that her stepbrother Phillippe help her by seducing Selma. Dum-dum-DUM! Phillippe, meanwhile, has his sights set on more challenging fare, specifically virginal archetype Reese Witherspoon. Hmm . . . I wonder how that turned out in retrospect. While Buffy tries to stonewall Phillippe by informing him that his quarry lives in Kansas, Phillippe reveals that he’s been doing some homework, as she’s coming to New York because her father is going to be the new headmaster of their school. Phillippe, sensing success in his current undertaking, offers a wager to his stepsister as motivation. After a bit of consternation, Buffy agrees to the bet, because she wants Phillippe’s fancy car if he loses. Meanwhile, if he wins, he can violate her however he sees fit. It’s good to be Phillippe.

Phillippe, now emboldened by this development, hurries off to his Aunt Ratched’s house, where Reese is staying for the interim. Once there, Phillippe ingratiates himself to his quarry by insulting her virginal ways; she counters, in her own uppity way, by revealing that she thinks he might be gay and she knows that he is, indeed, a boy-slut, thanks to an anonymous letter. Meanwhile, back in the city, Selma gently caresses a lucky cello with her thighs while her hunky, black music teacher (Sean Patrick Thomas) tries to help her relax. Buffy, beginning a trend in the film, rudely interrupts the proceedings and, after the music teacher exits, stage left, Selma reveals that she thinks he’s dreamy. Even though she’s supposedly dating Charlie O’Connell. Maybe she doesn’t think she’s worthy of a rose.

Elsewhere in the city, Phillippe complains about this mysterious letter to gay Pacey (Joshua Jackson), who’s busy weighing out a treasure trove of weed. Gay Pacey, the film’s homosexual detective, deduces that the only Kansas connection in the school is probably the football team’s quarterback . . . who also happens to be a closet queen. Phillippe, in order to extract some information from the quarterback, plans a bit of blackmail, with the aid of gay Pacey. Meanwhile, Buffy and Selma bond in Central Park and Selma reveals that O’Connell has been badmouthing Buffy, drawing Buffy’s ire. Perhaps to quell her fury, Buffy elects to make out with Selma. Wow . . . that was . . . pointless. And to think this is the scene that Cruel Intentions is famous for. Sadly, Selma’s little foray into bisexuality doesn’t take, as she confesses that she has love letters from the music teacher. Buffy, seeking REVENGE, requests copies of the love letters; Selma, meanwhile, just wants to have a sleepover. Hmm . . . maybe she wants to make out a bit more after all.

That night, Phillippe breaks into Reese’s pool and plays Beethoven very loudly for no apparent reason. After Reese interrupts his foray into A Clockwork Orange references, Phillippe switches to The Cardigans, because it was a rule that "Lovefool" had to be in every teenage movie made between 1996 and 2000. Phillippe offers a totally innocent swim together and, though Reese agrees, he’s rudely interrupted by a call from Buffy. Reese, after leaving to don a sensible bathing suit – as she is a virginal archetype, returns to find Phillippe naked and waiting for her . . . totally innocently. They come together in the pool, where they match wits over Phillippe’s philandering ways and Reese’s unspoiled womanhood . . . remarkably monotonously. After a few minutes of mature discourse, Phillippe, as per his particular idiom, says something stupid and Reese leaves hurriedly.

Phillippe, probably with a raging case of blue balls, has to settle for a bit of REVENGE, as he "catches" gay Pacey in bed with the quarterback (Ugly Betty’s Eric Mabius), and, through the threat of blackmail, he discerns that the quarterback is innocent of outing Phillippe’s history as a lothario. In exchange for Phillippe’s and gay Pacey’s silence, the quarterback agrees to defend Phillippe’s reputation to a remarkably open-minded Reese. In the meantime, Phillippe finds out who the stool pigeon really is, and it may very well hit close to home. Sometime later, Buffy watches spy-camera footage of Selma and the music teacher together and she’s disgusted by the romantic sentiment. Phillippe joins the party and he and Buffy conspire against Selma’s mom in order to hasten Buffy’s quest to despoil Selma’s reputation in the eyes of society . . . because only "society" cares about this sort of thing. Phillippe, for no reason in particular, gives Buffy a massage, so she repays him with a lapdance. Unfortunately, I don’t think this is going to come to a happy ending . . . just like Phillippe’s lapdance.

That evening, Phillippe calls Reese because he’s looking for the glasses that he’s wearing – yeah, he’s hopped up on goofballs – and a date. The next morning, Buffy meets with Selma’s mom and she rats out Selma’s illicit – yet innocent – relationship with the music teacher. Selma’s mom, enraged by the paranoid fear of miscegenation, freaks out and fires the music teacher, who is instantaneously overcome with a low-key version of black rage. On the music teacher’s way out of the building, he meets with Phillippe and Buffy, who, suspiciously, offer to help keep the romance going. Though Phillippe has pangs of conscience, Buffy still wants her REVENGE against Charlie O’Connell because he wouldn’t let her be a classy slut. Or something like that.

Anyway, in the next step of their plan, Buffy and Phillippe call on Selma and, that night, Selma sneaks out of her house and joins Phillippe for a bit of drinking and love-letter writing. Phillippe, probably bored by the saccharine scene, starts photographing Selma and she clumsily rolls around on the bed for him. Phillippe tires of this charade and he finally gets down to business . . . which involves stripping Selma and blackmailing her into letting him go down on her, just because he cares about her reputation. There’s nothing more important in societal circles than technical virginity, after all.

The next day, Selma, Reese, and Phillippe go to lunch together, but Phillippe – as per his particular idiom – ruins the fun by grossing out Selma by simulating masturbation on a tennis-racket handle. Or maybe Selma let him use that on her the night before as well. Anyway, after Selma leaves disgustedly, Reese and Phillippe are conned into going to a retirement home by Phillippe’s Aunt Ratched. Once there, Phillippe pretends to play backgammon with an old woman – because no one knows how to play backgammon nowadays anyway – but the old woman’s enthusiasm impresses the nurse on duty and Reese as well. On the way back to Phillippe’s aunt’s, he and Reese bond in his fancy car while she sends him mixed signals. Phillippe tries to play it cool, so Reese attempts to lighten the mood by impersonating Jim Carrey and the fondling Phillippe’s gear shift. Literally, perverts.

Meanwhile, Buffy meets with Selma and Selma rats out Phillippe’s naughty acts the night before, much to Buffy’s entertainment . . . especially when Selma confesses that she really didn’t mind the orgasm. Buffy, content in the knowledge that her plan is progressing swimmingly, tells Selma to be a proud slut, so Selma goes back for more Phillippe lovin’. While she enjoys it, Phillippe isn’t quite as moved, as he has greater prey in his sights. Quite literally, in fact, as, the next day, Phillippe spies on Reese while Buffy rudely interrupts . . . yet again. Phillippe, laid low by the awesome power of Reese’s hymen, reveals that he’s into her because she made him laugh; Buffy, meanwhile, isn’t happy about this turn of events, even though she’s currently winning her bet. There’s nothing worse than a sore winner, Buffy; you don’t want to be that.

Phillippe, driven by hormones and infatuation, joins Reese outside and he impatiently tries to make out with her. While Reese isn’t quite affected, Phillippe freaks out and then Reese reveals that she doesn’t trust her urges around Phillippe. Later that night, Phillippe, in order to protect Reese from him, confesses to her that he’s leaving for France and then he calls her a hypocrite because she’s apparently forsaken her vow to get it on with someone who loves her because he loves her. Or something overly cerebral like that. Reese, perhaps convinced by Phillippe’s performance, offers up some lovin’ by unbuttoning her nightshirt, but Phillippe refuses the offer . . . and then he freaks out. Come on, dude; you know you’re just prolonging the inevitable. Didn’t you read the original book in high school?

The next morning, Buffy questions Phillippe about what went down the night before – in a word: nothing – and Phillippe confesses that his conscience got in the way of his hormones yet again. In the meantime, and much to Buffy’s amusement, Reese left the area, so Phillippe tracks her down at Penn Station – because nothing’s more romantic than a stalker – and they make out and get it on . . . somewhere. I’ve been in Penn Station many times and I’ve never found the "get it on" area. After the illicit coitus, Phillippe returns back to his finely appointed mansion and he catches Buffy with the music teacher because she digs the dark meat. I guess that’s the closest substitute for an O’Connell. Phillippe, though he won the bet, spurns Buffy, which incites jealousy against Reese for ruining her chance at some slightly incestuous relations. Buffy tries to force herself on Phillippe – and in the process talk some sense into him, but after he refuses again, she plans blackmail.

Over the course of the rest of the day, Phillippe walks the streets existentially and mopes in bed. The next morning, he meets with Reese once more and, filled with mopey ennui, he voices his desire to break up with her because he may not really be in love with her after all. Phillippe then goes all emo and lies to Reese about their relationship being meaningful, so she slaps him around and throws him out of her room. Back at the mansion, Phillippe waits for Buffy and, once she returns, she confesses to dumping Reese so they can commence their incestuous relations. Buffy ignores him by turning once more to the music teacher, but, much to her chagrin, Phillippe set him back up with Selma as a measure of incest insurance. Buffy, meanwhile, turns the tables on Phillippe by revealing that she’s been using him to do her bidding all along, and then, to add insult to emotional injury, she reneges on their bet! The nerve of her!

Phillippe, now enlightened by this revelation, freaks out and stalks the streets looking for Reese. He finally returns to the apartment she’s staying at and he gives his enigmatic journal to some uppity society woman residing there. She promises to turn the journal over to Reese and, shockingly, she does. Later that night, while Reese reads the journal, Phillippe mopes at the Metropolitan Museum of Art over his prior bouts schadenfreude . . . and, judging by his journal, his penchant for scrapbooking. Well that does explain why he’s so creepy . . . he’s a scrapbooker! Meanwhile, Buffy calls the music teacher and tells him that Phillippe hit her . . . and he’s been getting it on with Selma behind the music teacher’s back. Now why she had to lie is beyond me; just saying Phillippe’s been plowing Selma’s fields should’ve been enough. I can only imagine the lie is because BITCHES BE CRAZY!

Over the course of the night, Phillippe continues moping and Reese watches from her window until Phillippe leaves the next morning. Reese, perhaps moved by the contents of the mysterious journal, follows Phillippe, just in time to watch him get pummeled by the music teacher . . . and then get hit by a taxi. Oh well; that’s a life sentence for the music teacher, I’m sure. Reese, now that her man is dead, is sad, but, at his funeral, Buffy isn’t saddened thanks to a little help from her coke. Buffy and Reese face off in the bathroom and Reese, for reasons unbeknownst to anyone, gives Buffy a "Jesus talk" and then Buffy eulogizes her stepbrother. The crowd, thanks to some rabble rousers, rebels against Buffy and walk out on her . . . and then she discovers that Selma and Reese have had their REVENGE by publishing and disseminating Phillippe’s journal! Everyone shakes their heads at Buffy and then Reese rides off in Phillippe’s fancy car and has flashbacks to earlier in the film.

Even though Cruel Intentions isn’t that bad of a movie, I can’t help but shake the feeling that it doesn’t know quite what it wants to be. For the most part, in the beginning, Cruel Intentions is a fairly decent and darkly comedic take on the source material. Somewhere along the way, however, the film stops being funny and it starts taking itself too seriously, ruining the agreeable tenor it had established early on. When this shift occurs, Cruel Intentions becomes nothing more than a paint-by-numbers melodrama and an unimaginative retelling of the original story. What could’ve been an astringent, biting social commentary instead becomes a soap opera midway through, and that can only mean it’s not a success, but a Misunderstood Masterpiece.

Join me next week when I give you all a present for the holidays: the worst movie of the year! It’s guaranteed to be epic . . . trust me. See you then!