{"id":4624,"date":"2012-04-11T15:38:53","date_gmt":"2012-04-11T19:38:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/?p=4624"},"modified":"2015-12-30T19:54:14","modified_gmt":"2015-12-31T00:54:14","slug":"br-9-%c2%bd-weeks-1986","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/?p=4624","title":{"rendered":"BR: 9 \u00bd Weeks (1986)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Film: Very Good<\/p>\n

BR Transfer: Very Good<\/p>\n

BR Extras: Standard<\/p>\n

Label: Warner Home Video<\/p>\n

Region: All<\/p>\n

Released: March 6, 2012<\/p>\n

Genre: Drama \/ Erotica<\/p>\n

Synopsis: A NYC art gallery dealer begins an intense, emotionally masochistic relationship with a charismatic stranger.<\/p>\n

Special Features: Theatrical Trailer<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Review:<\/p>\n

More than 25 years since its theatrical release and burgeoning popularity on home video, 9 \u00bd Weeks<\/strong> can easily be assessed as the first American erotic film for the MTV generation, but it\u2019s also a harbinger of the two distinct talents involved \u00a0– director Adrian Lyne, and co-writer \/ co-producer Zalman King – in what stands as a landmark in adult-oriented entertainment released by a major studio.<\/p>\n

Fresh from the blockbuster music-drama Flashdance<\/strong> (1983), Lyne had shown a sharp knack for crafting sexually charged montages set to pop music, and a implementing a visual style wholly commercial \u2013 more so than fellow Brit Ridley Scott, whose own visual style seemed more intrigued by blending abstract images and symbolism to sell his movies (Alien<\/strong>), or perfume (Channel No. 5).<\/p>\n

Lyne\u2019s visual approach to Weeks<\/strong> ensured footage from any sequence could easily be recut into a music video to sell the film\u2019s soundtrack album, but the videos actually sold a different movie \u2013 more dancing and teasing fun instead of the intense and destructive relationship between art dealer Elizabeth (Kim Basinger) and arbitrage whiz John (Mickey Rourke). A chance encounter immediately instills a fascination between the two characters, and little by little John tests his companion with dares, orders, and demands, and while she does question and defends herself, Elizabeth increasingly gives in, and almost loses sight of her friends and job before John\u2019s aggression finally causes her to question their masochistic relationship, and she breaks it off.<\/p>\n

Their co-dependence as master and concubine doesn\u2019t begin overnight; screenwriters Sarah Kernochan and writing team Patricia Louisiana Knop and Zalman King (who also co-produced) map out specific points where John\u2019s aggressive steps test and break down Elizabeth\u2019s defenses, in terms of her ability to fend off an arrogant & overconfident jerk, rejecting fine gifts she knows, when worn, represent his ownership of her life after (and eventually during) working hours; and giving in to challenges that ensure she\u2019ll accept more daring erotic adventures.<\/p>\n

Amid the brooding masochism \u2013 which is generally up front \u2013 Lyne also indulges in music video montages that admittedly pad the film\u2019s simple story and arguably make it more palatable to American audiences: had the film been directed by a European filmmaker (such as Nathalie<\/strong>\u2019s Anne Fontaine), music would\u2019ve been purely source sounds, and the emphasis would\u2019ve been on the characters, with less stylized sexual interaction. It\u2019s also fair to presume by propelling the film with sex & music montages \u2013 endless running down streets, climbing to a clock tour for rafter-wall-bashing sex, or fleeing from thugs and tearing each other\u2019s clothes off to boff under a busted water mains \u2013 it tempered the MPAA who probably objected to just basic graphic nudity and singular frames instead of whole scenes.<\/p>\n

In terms of the leading actors, both Rourke and Basinger never looked more beautiful onscreen, and they\u2019re perfectly cast according to their look, and performance subtleties: Basinger captures Elizabeth\u2019s conflict in being intrigued yet terrified of John\u2019s chilly domineering behaviour, which often displayed with a quiet, slightly immature voice and command-style dialogue. Rourke gives John an aura of confidence, but from his fixed gaze and ongoing analysis of Elizabeth\u2019s behaviour, we know most of the time he\u2019s bluffing; his power lies in Elizabeth\u2019s malleability, and the moment she says \u2018enough\u2019 he knows he\u2019s lost the game and will need to find \/ acquire a new playmate.<\/p>\n

Lyne\u2019s influence is clear in the visuals, the sleek use of music to kick-start erotic montages, and a high raunch factor where the actual sex scenes begin with slamming, tearing, and writhing (plus the inclusion of at least one puzzled house pet, as in Flashdance<\/strong> and Fatal Attraction<\/strong>), but there are specific moments that are typical of King and Knop\u2019s writing \u2013 if not in dialogue, than quiet character exchanges consisting of contrived introspective character observations.<\/p>\n

The best example is a small scene where Elizabeth goes to the rickety country shack of a hermit painter, and asks him how he creates art. The dialogue is absurdly cryptic, and has both characters hooked in a kind of trance: Elizabeth desperately wants some gem philosophy she can apply to her own upturned life, and the painter mumbles quasi-prescient words while de-scaling a freshing caught fish. It’s either ripe with symbolism, or filler material with the density of rice paper.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s also the essential King premise of a woman who discovers her strengths through an intense cathartic series of sexual escapades: by the end of the drama, Elizabeth is no longer na\u00efve and is in possession of life skills which will defend her against the next \u2018John,\u2019 yet the film ends with a hint that she probably harbors a small yearning for the rush that enabled a ecstatic high like no other – a common hook (and wrap-up) in filmed erotica, softcore S&M like Radley Metzger’s The Image<\/strong><\/a>\u00a0(1975), or sadistic sleaze like Nello Rossati’s Erotic Escape<\/strong><\/a>\u00a0(1985).<\/p>\n

The supporting characters in Weeks <\/strong>are reduced to peripheral figures and really have no importance other than representing the normal world of John and Elizabeth; the former has a staff and secretary, and the latter has friends, a roommate, and an ex-husband all of whom feel like passing cars and wallpaper. (A silly relationship between Elizabeth\u2019s ex and roommate \/ co-worker Molly feels completely contrived, and one can suspect this invention came from King and Knop.)<\/p>\n

If King gleaned anything from Lyne, it was an assurance in following his own dream of exploring his own brand of American erotic cinema, but King\u2019s best work constantly revisited his fascination with the American ing\u00e9nue \u2013 a young girl or impressionable woman plunged into a drastic situation where she emerges a woman.<\/p>\n

King also adopted Lyne\u2019s commercial look and use of kinetic montages, but King\u2019s fixation was on the slow tease, and if there was any raunch, it was generally captured through softly lit, jazzily scored montages. Even in Lyne\u2019s later work, there\u2019s a combative nature to his leading characters who tear up their own staid lives for raging impropriety, whereas in King enjoyed exploiting his heroine\u2019s introduction & seduction into naughtiness, be it the rebel girl in Two Moon Junction <\/strong>(1988), the \u2018cunning linguist\u2019 and administrative aide in Wild Orchid<\/strong>, or the diverse female adventures read by a widower in King\u2019s popular Red Shoe Diaries<\/strong> cable TV series.<\/p>\n

For Lyne, Weeks<\/strong> freed the director to indulge in flagrant raunch, albeit within the confines of three characters fighting to maintain or become the dominant couple. The director would revisit his three-character battles in virtually all of his subsequent films: a marriage is upset by an obsessive temptress in Fatal Attraction<\/strong> (1987); the hallucinations of a scarred Vietnam War vet convince him his wife is having an affair in Jacob\u2019s Ladder <\/strong>(1990); a couple\u2019s fidelity is challenged by a wealthy manipulator in Indecent Proposal<\/strong> (1993); a professor pretends to love a loud woman to woo her teen daughter in Lolita<\/strong> (1997); and a woman\u2019s adultery adversely affects her marriage in Unfaithful<\/strong> (2002).<\/p>\n

It\u2019s worth noting that neither Rourke nor Basinger were major sex symbols when the film was released, so it was natural each actor moved on to a diversity of action, suspense, and dramatic character pieces, but perhaps due to the film\u2019s popularity on video, their need to find deeper dramatic roles was more imperative. Rourke subsequently distinguished himself in Barfly<\/strong> (1987), whereas Basinger was a perfect fit in Nadine<\/strong> (1987), but Rourke\u2019s own career choices \u2013 the I.R.A. thriller A Prayer for the Dying<\/strong> (1987), the historical figure in Francesco<\/strong> (1989) \u2013 weren\u2019t so solid or commercial, so he not only gave in to appearing in King\u2019s commercial hit Wild Orchid<\/strong> (1989), but also appeared in the direct-to-video sequel Another Nine & a Half Weeks <\/strong>\/ Love in Paris <\/strong>(1997). Rourke wisely had nothing to do with the in-name-only prequel The First 9 \u00bd Weeks <\/strong>(1998), co-produced by My Bloody Valentine<\/a><\/strong>\u2019s John Dunning.<\/p>\n

Weeks<\/strong> is an important film because it represents a major point when Lyne, King, and the main cast took risks to create a commercial form of American erotica, and it\u2019s managed to outlast both the cheap imitations as well as King\u2019s own variations for TV and home video. The performances are simple yet affecting due to the stars\u2019 natural eroticism, and the film\u2019s look isn\u2019t wholly representative of loud eighties flash and colour. Lyne\u2019s use of colours are muted and soft, and as the story\u2019s locations increasingly favour John\u2019s world (notably his sleek, steel and glass apartment), the film\u2019s colour scheme becomes increasingly grey and black, as does Elizabeth\u2019s wardrobe \u2013 hand-picked without compromise by John.<\/p>\n

Warner Home Video\u2019s Blu-ray is a bit of a mixed bag, because while the details are sharp, there\u2019s the occasional moment where diagonal lines have slight jaggies \u2013 visible in the main title sequence, via the diagonal lines of buildings, bridges, and the text credits. The film\u2019s grain hasn\u2019t been scrubbed away, so Lyne\u2019s use of fast film stock is still potent, giving the film a slight docu-drama feel which works well for the story. The uncompressed audio is also quite punchy when the music kicks in.<\/p>\n

Sadly, there are no extras (trailer excepted), and it\u2019s a shame a film historian (or Lyne himself) weren\u2019t engaged for either a commentary track, or a featurette covering the film\u2019s production, Elizabeth McNeill\u2019s original book and its impact, an overview of American erotica in film, or the cast (which includes virtual cameos by Christine Baranski and\u00a0 Julian Beck at a dinner scene, and an uncredited cameo by The Rolling Stones\u2019 Ron Wood at a gallery reception).<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a9 2012 Mark R. Hasan<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

External References<\/em>:<\/p>\n

IMDB <\/a>— Soundtrack Album<\/a> — Composer Filmography<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Film: Very Good BR Transfer: Very Good BR Extras: Standard Label: Warner Home Video Region: All Released: March 6, 2012 Genre: Drama \/ Erotica Synopsis: A NYC art gallery dealer begins an intense, emotionally masochistic relationship with a charismatic stranger. Special Features: Theatrical Trailer \u00a0 \u00a0 Review: More than 25 years since its theatrical release […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false},"categories":[18],"tags":[1202,405,1203,1201],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p8nuyW-1cA","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4624"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4624"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4624\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12874,"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4624\/revisions\/12874"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4624"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4624"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/kqek.com\/mobile\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4624"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}