Customer Reviews

The Comfort of Strangers [Region 2]

5 star:		(14)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(10)

 

 

The Comfort of Strangers will appeal to those who are perceptive, have a long attention span, and love films that require attention to detail. This film is the model for understated elegance, with a plot line that at times seems mundane but with a world of subtext that could only have been created by the combined genius of Harold Pinter, Ian McEwan, and Paul Schrader.

Rupert Everett gives an excellent performance alongside Natasha Richardson as the self-obsessed boyfriend. But Walken and Mirren are even better, putting in career defining performances as the deviant couple that pulls Everett and Richardson into their twisted web.

There seems to be some confusion over the relationship of Everett and Richardson's characters. They are a couple that is considering moving in together, but nowhere in the film does it say that they are married as several reviewers have stated. In fact, Richardson is not even sure if Everett likes her kids, and she does an excellent job evoking the angst of the single mother trying to decide what she wants out of this man. Their state of uncertainty is important to this film because it provides the vulnerability that Walken preys on.

Everett and Richardson do find comfort in their sexual connection, but it needs to be noted that this connection only peaks after they've been subjected to the cruel mind games of Walken's "Robert." They too are strangers, in a sense, to each other. Robert senses this, and cunningly picks apart their fears and weaknesses. In the end, their polite tolerance of Robert and Caroline's strange games has very negative consequences.

The dialogue of the movie can alienate the viewer sometimes. The "thighs conversation" and the "we were this gang" monologue are slightly forced. But these are minor bumps in a road that requires careful study and appreciation. The characters speak out of things from the recesses of their minds and hearts. It's not always "entertaining," but it is always meaningful and profound.

The film is also visually stunning, evoking of sense of Venice as few other films have. The use of colors and lighting make this a masterpiece of cinematic precision. While this type of shooting is more commonplace today, the high quality is really stunning when considering this movie was made in the early 90s on an independant film budget. Simply brilliant.

I highly recommend this picture. Fans of Pinter and McEwan will not be disappointed! Enjoy!

This is an excellent adaptation by Harold Pinter of the McEwan Novel with superb cinematography and an evocation of the eirie atmosphere as well as the incredible beauty of Venice.All four main castmembers put in great performances with Christopher Walken at his dangerous best as the sophisticated yet strangely chilling protagonist.Helen Mirren,Rupert Everett and Natasha Richardson are perfectly cast and give faultless performances.The scenes shot on the Lido are especially interesting and bring back memories of Dirk Bogart in Thomas Manns "Death in Venice",which you will find is a surprisingly appropriate reference even though the subject matter is vastly different. I also enjoyed the scenes shot late at night in which Christopher Walken mysteriously introduces an innocent Rupert Everett to some of the seedier nightclubs of Venice. Beautiful shots of the more well -known parts of Venice abound,with a beautiful soundtrack to highlight them. All this plus a spinechilling ending!

A pity this is out of production .I recommend it to the studio that they put this out on DVD.It could become a cult classic

The Comfort Of Strangers is worth watching simply for the photography. Venice turns up often in film, but director Paul Schrader really gets it right. From the endless alleyways, so ominous at night, to the outdoor sewers - whoops - I mean canals - to the exquisite public buildings and lavish, dark interiors, expertly dressed down to the last detail, the sense of place is intoxicating. Much of the film finds Venice bathed in gentle afternoon sunlight, rendering it soft, opulent, alluring. Every obligatory cliché is touched, from the pigeons to the gondoliers to the gold leaf domes and the charming bridges. Anybody who is anybody arrives at his or her 500 year old crib by water taxi. Art with a capital A is so ubiquitous and so in decline that the stench of decadence and licentiousness linger in the air like perfume. That's the good news.

The bad news is, everything else. To paraphrase Churchill, never has so much talent been assembled with such lack of result. This line-up has "dream team" written all over it. Novel by Ian McEwan. Screenplay by Harold Pinter. (Memo to Harold Pinter: Harold, sometimes less is less.) Christopher Walken, Natasha Richardson, Helen Mirren, and Rupert Everett. Granted, Everett would probably be in over his head shooting a Calvin Klein commercial, but the other three are world class. Walken exudes the kind of malice required for films like this when he's picking up lunch at Arby's. Top it off with the master of unsettling music, Angelo Badalamenti. Venice is the ideal city for a tale of sexual corruption, depravity, and decay. What started well became - staggeringly boring.

Sadly the blame must be laid squarely at the feet of Schrader and Pinter. The dialogue in this movie is so appallingly listless it makes Last Year At Marienbad seem like a Marx Brothers comedy. Our lead characters don't have enough energy between them to lift a teaspoon, or chemistry enough to cause the decomposition of leaves. The malevolent sexuality of Walken and Mirren, far from being either frightening or exciting, or - in a better movie - both - is simply dumb. In fact, everything about how these characters meet and interact is both dumb and pointless. Schrader has written and directed some great pictures; in this one he seems convinced that plush interiors make an adequate substitute for plot, characters, motivation, interesting situations and point. I have seen maple syrup pour onto pancakes with more urgency.

I return to this film at regular intervals as I return to other films such as Woody Allen's MANHATTAN. But where Mr Allen's film is as much watchable for its witty dialogue and characterisation , THE COMFORT OF STRANGERS is watchable for quite a number of different reasons. The overall idea of the story I take it to be is of two lovers from the modern world returning to an older and different culture to try and recapture their private past. If this older culture is a metaphor for their private past then their past is a murky, fluid, labrynthine, decaying place of intrigue and mystery which is how Venice is portrayed in the film. I may be misreading the major idea of the film but to my mind the film has a serious moral side to it. Certainly, the two lovers are not innocents. The male is portrayed as selfish, vain, indulgent , and the female as having abandoned her children, albeit temporarily. They are both self-absorbed and shallow people, looking for something. They find some relief in sexual passion. But after they meet two locals, their holiday changes. Having said that, the two lovers are deliriously good to look at. Rupert Everett must be one of the most beautiful men ever to have graced the screen and, dressed in his casual Armani clothes throughout the film, and in the prime of his youth, he is a visual and sensual treat to behold. Natasha Richardson has a wholesome beauty but her hair is a golden glory . Her Armani clothes also bewitch. The two Venetian locals , Christopher Walken, and Helen Mirren, aristocratic, decadent, sexually deviant, provide an interesting double for the visitors. He in his white silk/linen Armani suit, she in her gowns. The acting by this quartet, is pitch perfect. The dialogue by Harold Pinter weird and wonderful: the film begins and ends with a monologue by Mr Walken about his character's father, a vain man who used to touch up his greying moustache with mascara. And the fans of David Lynch and his TWIN PEAKS will be delighted with the eerie music by master Angelo Badalamenti. Camerawork by Mr Spinotti and sets by Mr Quaranta are resplendently rich. Paul Schrader delivers a mis en scene, a suspense, performances that deserve repeated viewings. It may not be a masterpiece but it reveals a great deal about what film making can be in the hands of gifted artists. Compelling viewing. No flat spots. For film lovers everywhere.

This fine film suffered the fate of bad marketing by Skouras Films when it premiered in 1991, and thus, lacks exposure,and appears to be out-of-print! Nevermind that it's slow going for the average Hellplex patron seeking eyecandy; it's an exceptionally well-crafted affair from head to toe (with an incredible score by Angelo Badalamenti, visuals from ace Italian lensman Dante Spinotti, production design inspired by Ferdinando Scarfiotti, and four expert performances from its core ensemble).

Shrader works from a script by Harold Pinter, which is a right-on adaptation of the decadent novel by Ian McEwan to tell a twisted story of sexual intrigue set in dear old creepy/lovely Venice, Italy. Yes, there are lovely scenes on the Lido and Grand Canal, but the picture of La Serrinissima here is more akin to, say, "Don't Look Now" than David Lean's postcard-pretty "Summertime" - a maze of canals and claustrophobic alleyways turning in on themselves in the style of its characters' psyches.

What is this film really about? That's open to discussion. At heart, it's a tale of a younger couple adrift in the byways of speculation about the meaning and purpose of their own relationship, and this makes them vulnerable to the apetities of a bored and rich niddle-aged couple looking for some "beauty must be punished" type thrills. There you have it: each man kills the thing he loves, someone said.

Pinter does his usual accent on dialogue with repeated lines searching for their true meaning (Everett: "This book makes no sense! I can't read this book!"). Christopher Walken is charmingly creepy in his white Armani threads and vague sexuality; Helen Mirren approaches genius with her take on a woman held captive in a palazzo to a self-invented aristocrat and her own sexual imagination ("ahhh, but if a man came, THEN something would happen (cackle, cackle)."); empathy for the younger couple, Everett and Richardson is established sufficiently, although Miranda Richardson's boyishness threw a curve into the story I'm not certain was supposed to be there. Maybe Shrader could elaborate.

COMFORT is funny, sad, morose, romantic, challenging, subtle. In flashes it is classic Gothic - black as black can be.

It does, however, demand several viewings over time to excavate its riches. If one still comes up with a feeling that something critical may be missing, well, that may or may not be part of its point: one never leaves Venice feeling wholly satisfied - it is always calling one back, back, back to its come-hither intrigues.

This movie is not for those filmgoers who like plot points spelled out every step of the way. It explores the darker sides of the human psyche in provocative, disturbing ways. A great script, superior direction, overall excellent performances by all -- especially Helen Mirren as the housebound wife whose passions nonetheless know no earthly bounds.
Kudos to Angelo Badalamenti for what may be his best score; it sets the mood right away during the titles and lets you know this is a twisting and twisted film that will be seducing you at the same time it's pulling you into a dark abyss.
Don't expect any sort of traditional horror or suspense film; it stands on its own as an exploration of the dark side of sexuality. Put the tape in, relax, and let the mood engulf you.

I have watched this movie via home video three times now and find something new to like about it each time. Released in 1991, this movie is based on an early novel of the same title by Ian McEwan so we are fairly sure from the outset that the characters won't all live happily ever after. Set in Venice and beautifully filmed, the movie is directed by Paul Schrader; the screenplay is written by Harold Pinter so we're obviously not dealing with slouches here.

There are only four characters in the movie, all of whom do commendable acting jobs: Rupert Everett, Natasha Richardson, Christopher Walken and Helen Mirren. Everett's good looks sometimes get in the way of his acting-- at least for me-- that does not happen here, however. A lot of appropriate adjectives fit this movie: sinister, scary, shocking, compelling, mysterious, sexually ambiguous, suspenseful. I do not know how much time this movie got in theatres, but it is a very fine movie indeed. It is certainly an artistic success and ought to have had a wide viewing.

This movie reminded me of both DEATH IN VENICE from the Thomas Mann novel and DON'T LOOK NOW. Another beautiful movie filmed in this otherwordly beautiful city about death and dying and/or horror.

This is one of those movies where you are left wondering long after its over whether you understood what happened and why it happened. I can't say I have much confidence in my own analysis of this plot and these four characters. I think things are left sketchy on purpose too so you feel as disoriented as the characters in the film do. I have my opinions about who did what and why but since the plot never winds down to any final resolution you are never certain whether you were right or not. This kind of film is disturbing because it deals with things that have no easy rational explanation--like the darker side of the psyche and its relation to desire and death. That said the film is a wonder to look at. My take on the film:Rupert Everett & Natasha Richardson are a confused couple who really don't belong together but don't know it yet. Everett is narcissistic and bored with both his wife and his job and perhaps with life itself. Richardson is drawn to Everetts beauty but so is everyone else. Including Walken and Mirren. Walken and Mirren live in an opulent kind of decadence surrounded by PreRaphaelite paintings depicting sensual languor. When Everett and Richardson sleepover at Walken and Mirrens villa they are photographed to look just like one of the paintings on the villas walls as they sleep with bedsheets barely concealing their nude bodies. Walken and Mirren possess all kinds of art objects and they play rough games with each other. Once they spot Everett they know they must involve him in some way. There is strange chemistry between Everett and Walken as soon as they meet and equally strange but less potent chemistry between Everett and Mirren. It seems both desire him. Walken and Mirren strike Everett and Richardson as more than just a little odd and yet they are also very curious about the older couple who are obviously interestd in them. Walken is rude and even violent to Everett and yet he seems to offer himself to this couple willingly submitting to whatever they have in mind for him. The couple obviously ignites something that had been dormant in him. Richardson is stunning in her own right but Everetts desire for her is really directed more toward Walken and Mirren who interest him far more than Richardson. As much as I like this film there are clues which never lead anywhere like the story Walken tells about his father which both initiates the frienship between the couples and is once again repeated at the close of the story. We are never convinced of Walkens authenticity as an aristocrat so everything he says is suspect including the story of his father which reveals nothing really whether it is true or not. I think this little story within the story is a clue that some stories make very little sense and because they make so little sense they continue to haunt the imagination.

I loved this movie, more than the book, which is rare. This film evokes a kind of mystery that connects with real life in a way that most Hollywood features don't dare attempt. The viewer doesn't always know what's going on in this film, or why, just as in real life. But enough clues are presented to allow the attentive viewer to ponder the work long after the film is over. This may be one of those films that long out lives it's nay-sayers. A terrific choice for those who are tired of blockbuster-big-studio snores that don't want you to think while you watch.

Iam McEwan's short novel is a masterpiece of perversion and a good novel rarely holds promise for a great film. In this case I was amazed by the adaptation. The film is wonderfully faithful to the novel. True, it would be difficult not to enjoy watching almost anything filmed in Venice, but the camerawork here is particularly sumptuous. All four actors are perfect. It is now impossible for me to think of those roles incarnated in any other way. The denouement is somewhat different than in the novel, but even more powerful. You will be asking yourself, echoing the police detective at the end. "What did I want here after all?"