In the films of Canadian arthouse veteran Atom Egoyan sex has always been a transgressive act. In 1987’s Family Viewing a son discovers his father has deliberately taped trysts with his mistress over family home movies, in 1997’s The Sweet Hereafter a case of incest is revealed beneath a family’s happy surface, while 2005’s Where the Truth Lies had Alison Lohman as a writer whose pursuit of a story ended with her being photographed in a compromising situation with another woman. Egoyan, with his eye for lone, disaffected protagonists, often punishes those who embrace physical pleasure.
With Chloe, a liberal remake of Anne Fontaine’s 2004 French release Nathalie, Egoyan uses sexual desire, both the lack and excess of it, to bait and trap his lead protagonist; the movie is an example of what film theoretician’s have identified as Having Your Cake and Eating It Too. Julianne Moore’s Catherine Stewart is a successful gynecologist – by profession alone she is meant to be practical about sexual matters – who has begun to fear that her husband, renowned academic David (Liam Neeson), is cheating on her as their once perfect marriage strays into the familiarity of middle age.
Catherine has little hope for rational engagement, as the very world she inhabits stokes her suspicions: great swathes of jealous red dominate the production design, from the dresses of younger woman to the very cladding of the family home, while David is introduced enthusiastically lecturing on the sexual conquests of Mozart’s Don Giovanni. One tame picture on a mobile phone and Catherine is convinced, certain that she can no longer captivate or satisfy her husband. That Catherine is played by the ravishing Moore, who at age 49 regularly features on magazine covers and advertises luxury goods with ripe nude images, somewhat weakens the paranoia, although Neeson’s sturdy affability and frayed patience keeps you guessing.
The wife’s solution is to hire refined escort Chloe (Amanda Seyfried) and instruct her to meet David socially and see if he makes improper advances. The younger woman, who is introduced in a scene of soft porn-like seduction where she puts on lingerie as the camera lasciviously plays over her body, soon returns with tales of sexual encounters, which both devastate and arouse Catherine. As in the straying male films such as Fatal Attraction and Disclosure that Michael Douglas once headlined, Chloe is the destructive outside force that once introduced into the family unit wreaks havoc, even violating the family domain to pursue Catherine and David’s college student son, Michael (Max Thieriot).
This is a high end version of a bad B movie, and whether out of intention or lack of technique, Seyfried’s performance is increasingly and suitably hysterical, complete with furious silences and acquisitive stares. It is amusing in parts – when Chloe seduces Michael she is aroused by gazing at Catherine’s clothes neatly lined up in the master bedroom’s walk-in closet – but it essentially first exploits Catherine and then punishes her, while Chloe is such a cut-out role – Fatal Attraction’s Glenn Close should get points – that the only response to her sexual incursions are violent retribution. The philosophical quandaries of ageing and marriage have no lasting impact in this lurid thriller.
'I try to find something to love in everybody," Chloe tells Catherine early on, when discussing her clients, 'even if it’s a small thing." In that spirit, let me add that the liberally featured architecture of Toronto, where Chloe was shot, is outstanding. The film is another matter.
