Lure of 'Intimacy' sneaks into grubby and grim sex
Like Wayne Wang's "The Center of the World" earlier this year, "Intimacy" focuses on two near-strangers engaging in emotional-intimacy-free sex. Both films manage to make sex seem like a burden, a grim physical exercise accompanied by reddened skin, sweatiness and the sort of heavy breathing that recalls a blade rhythmically sawing through wood.
Chereau's film, the more thoughtful of the two, captures a palpable sense of desperation throughout. Jay (Mark Rylance), a London bartender recently separated from his wife and children (although we don't find this out until well into the film), meets with Claire (Kerry Fox) on Wednesdays for sex in his grubby flat. They don't know each other's names, nor do they converse much; the arrangement is a purely physical one.
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But although the two do not initially pursue intimacy, the need for it eventually invades their relationship. Jay starts following Claire secretly and learns that she's an amateur actress (performing "The Glass Menagerie" in a cramped little theater behind a pub) married to a likable bloke (a heartbreakingly honest performance by the gifted Timothy Spall).
Chereau, in his first English-language film, fills the screen with primary colors dotting the grayness of London and the essential melancholy of his story. Rylance and Fox give bravely naked (in both senses of the word) performances, but the story eventually comes down to the sad emptiness in Rylance's dark green eyes.
Is Jay really capable of intimacy? Does sex bring intimacy? And what's love got to do with it? "Intimacy" gives us beautifully acted melodrama and angst, instead of answers.
Moira Macdonald can be reached at 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com.