Candice is so clearly unhappy and the doting Richard Gere who plays her husband, so clearly doesn’t do it for her anymore. Nonetheless, she still keeps up with the tweezing and the highlights and the waxing, but we are expected to believe that she has no intention of having an affair; all this upkeep is for her or for her husband who she doesn’t want anymore? And then oops, one day the wind blows her accidentally into this exotic foreign guy in SoHo and she literally falls on top of him, and it’s all one big accident, which sounds a look like “honey, I didn’t mean to, but I slipped and my dick, well…” you know. Are we really to believe that Candice isn’t looking for an affair. That it’s all one big accident.
Candice is so hesitant – pretty much all the way through, even when she’s fucking the lover, she’s pushing him away and biting him and punching as he’s edging down to her lily-white pure and suburban Good Girl cotton panties, which is her way of telling herself she tried to resist and so is not at fault, la la. If you’re going to have an affair, which I’m not condoning, but if you go there, then at least enjoy it; the time to be conflicted is beforeit goes anywhere. By the time the guy is edging toward your panties, it seems to me a little late in the game to still be deciding whether it’s the right or wrong thing to do. I think it’s the wrong thing to do, for the record, but again, if you’re going to do it, at least do it with conviction.
Basically, Candice is representative of so many of today’s torn women who do everything to attract and then resist and intellectualize and feel guilty because what they were advertising for does comes along and when it does, they don’t know what to do with it.. Frankly, I don’t know why she even bothers with the affair in the first place: she’s too wound to really enjoy it. She’s too full of guilt, so she ends it. What kills me is that when she goes to end it and finds her lover running through the rain with some gorgeous dark-haired Italian or Spanish-looking girl who looks like she’d enjoy the fucking a lot more, Candice is both shocked and hysterical. Betrayed. She’s cheating on her husband – but it’s inconceivable that anyone would cheat on her. What, exactly, is her moral view point here? That her lover, who is in the middle of a separation (which is honest) and is playing the field, should be committed only to her? Go home little girl and cry with your cat and take some Klonopin. And no worries about this happening again, at least with this guy, because pretty soon, her husband finds out and decides to kill the lover and dump the body, because it’s all so bad bad bad and the message is This is what happens when you follow your animal instinct. Glen Close met the same end in Fatal Attraction (another Adrian Lyne film). The lover must die.