Deep Water is available exclusively March 18 on Hulu.
As advertised, Deep Water is supposed to be a super sexy adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s novel of the same name, featuring the once real-world couple of Ben Affleck and Ana de Armas, as directed by a one-time master of the genre, Adrian Lyne (Fatal Attraction). What that medley of talent manages to conjure up is a bewildering tale of connubial torture between two people who loathe one another for largely mysterious reasons. And not mysterious in the titillating, moody thriller way, but more like the inscrutable “what exactly is their problem and why should we care?” way.
Melinda (de Armas) and Vic (Affleck) are the married couple in question and it’s clear from the start, they are having some very prevalent issues. Surface-wise, they’re living an opulent life in an architecturally befuddling home in New Orleans with their delightfully precocious kindergartner, Trixie (Grace Jenkins). He’s an attentive dad, but a charmless schlump. And Melinda is his Myers/Briggs opposite, flitting barefoot around their home, wearing an endless array of clingy black dresses clearly meant to bury the fact that she ever popped out a kid. Outside of their idle natures, Vic also tends to a basement full of snails – I kid you not – that he smiles longingly at like they’re his actual one true pairing in life.
The pair have a circle of neighborly friends, who also seem to be equally work-averse considering the insane amount of parties they all throw, which always seem to feature Vic sullenly watching Melinda flagrantly flirt and/or make-out with other men. With a venomous smile, she goads Vic by calling him “Mr. Boring” and then plays the life of the party for himbo admirers that look like dim-bulb versions of Brad Pitt. One would assume that this recurring, twisted game between the two must be a means to ignite their simmered libidos, or liven up their staid parental existences, but no. When they return home and she’s drunk and naked, that earns her a perfunctory moisturizer application from Vic and that’s the end of it. Yeah, it’s weird.
Rightfully so, Vic’s friends are aghast at her public behavior. But he just shrugs in apathy at Melinda’s boy toy of the week as she swaps out paramours like they’re in a formal batting rotation. But every once in awhile, Vic gets pushed too far and then he threatens one of those guys with enough intensity that you suddenly believe he just might be capable of murder. Perhaps those snails are — gasp — in fact nefarious.
Zach Helm and Sam Levinson (Euphoria) are to blame for the screenplay, which does retain the basic premise and narrative spine of Highsmith’s novel. But bizarrely, they pluck out key contextual necessities from the book, much like random Jenga pieces, which makes Melinda and Vic’s behavior entirely confounding. Unlike the novel, the movie has no context for why these two married, if there ever was any passion, and why they haven’t bothered to divorce. What is clear is that neither hold any blackmail over one another’s head, or feel trapped in the relationship, emotionally or financially. She just throws herself at other men, he’s ok with it; rinse/repeat.
Maybe all of this would feel worthwhile if the chemistry was sizzling, but there’s no configuration of men to de Armas that is hot in this movie. And that’s not to say she isn’t trying, as the actress works overtime slinking through every frame with plenty of allure. Unfortunately, she has the best chemistry standing naked next to a coffee machine, so that’s problematic. Plus, Affleck is giving off best-effort vibes, sporting that hang-dog look that’s been forever immortalized in memes. And when the pair finally do the deed, it’s so weirdly edited and oddly framed that “sexy” isn’t even the seventh word you’d use to describe it.
Lyne doesn’t even use the New Orleans setting to his advantage. Everything is shot so tightly, even exterior locations, that there’s no sense of atmosphere or production value. How is it possible to make the Big Easy unsultry? In fact, no part of this film feels like it ever finds payoff. Intense emotional reactions from characters have no repercussions, missing people just remain missing, even the damn snails don’t get their moment to slime!
In truth, the only actor who walks out of Deep Water with their head held high is little Grace Jenkins. Her Trixie is insightful, complicated, and entirely charming. Every scene featuring her has nuance and a little taste of something sinister, which is disappointingly left unresolved as well. She comes across as the only thing Lyne loves about this movie, because his final head-scratching decision here is to feature her in an outtake singing to Leo Sayer’s “You Make Me Feel Like Dancing” during the credits. Yes, the psycho-sexual thriller about a deeply troubled couple who push the boundaries of love and hate ends with a moppet doing Carpool Karaoke. Truly the only surprise of the movie.
from IGN Reviews https://ift.tt/xyEonPp
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