“From the corrupt minds that brought you American Psycho and
Pulp Fiction”, the marketing screamed. With its teddy fornication poster, to
its Clockwork Orange (1971) riffing teaser spot, Roger Avery’s adaptation of
The Rules of Attraction knew exactly what it was selling. Although the hubbub
wasn’t as loud as what we often see from mainstream movies now, the outcome was
so very similar. The film split critics but captured a glut of the audience
that went to see it. Consensus scores are not the best way to evaluate a film’s
success, but I always remember how distinct the viewpoints were between the
film’s lowly Rotten Tomatoes score (now at a Rotten 43%) and the higher-rated
Imdb score (at time of release it was in the 7.0 range out of 10, it’s now at
the still decent 6.9). The A.V Club listed the film in its New Cult Section. Roger Ebert
felt an indifference for the film's characters and hoped they get better. When I
first saw it on it’s UK theatrical release in 2003, I fell for it in a way I
never really did with American Psycho, although that has changed over the
years. My best friend who I watched the film with, walked out at a notable
sequence. It’s that kind of film.
At the time of writing this film adaptation of Rules is 17 years old. In America, it is almost reached the lawful age of sexual maturity, yet the ramblings of the current culture wars still reek of this debauched little number. It’s no surprise that Bret Easton Ellis claimed that the film adaptation is the closest anyone had got to capturing his novel universes. Mary Harron smartly undercuts so much of American Psycho (2000). Capturing the shallowness of its era as well as the ugliness of the toxic masculinity of the time. Roger Avery goes all for leather in Rules. He gives us little respite. Attractive youngsters being entirely unattractive in a way only young people can. Controlled, nee overwhelmed by the id, wading rudderless in a sea of hollow depravity. But while many college/coming of age movies, leave its characters – and audience – with life lessons. Rules simply does not give a damn. Avery himself allegedly stated that the film is the assassination of teen comedies. Rules lumps us with people with no need to be depressed glaring glassy-eyed at the world as if it were a hopeless void. No life lessons here. Detention in purgatory. Simply said: Fuck Maturity.
Three kids attending a liberal arts college fall into what
can only be considered as a love triangle of misconception. Sean Bateman
(brother of American Psycho’s Patrick) keeps receiving glittery post from an
unknown recipient in the mail. To Sean, this is a slight distraction from the
borrowed drug money he owes from a couple of townie tweakers. Sean believes the
notes are from his classmate Lauren, a cynical woman who pines for her beau,
Victor, who is currently travelling Europe. Lauren is a virgin and starves off
any urges to cavort with any of the campus boys by reading a rather large
medical book of venereal diseases. Lauren’s dedication to Victor is strong but
there are hints that she may have an interest in Sean. Lauren used to date
Paul; a bisexual man whose attraction to Sean is set off by a misheard
exchanged between the two. The film is less of a conventional plot as opposed
to a series of loose vignettes. Much like American Psycho, the characters are
driven by their base urges, so much so they often neglect their
misunderstandings. So far so college am I right?
The film's disjointed plotting must have been something of a comfort to director Roger Avery. The other screenwriter of Pulp Fiction (1994) is once again swimming in a world of time-hopping narratives. As stated by the director, the jumps from point to point and hollow relationships between the characters were done so to resemble people's splintered memories of college. But was also a chance for him to direct another film with flashy flourishes and nihilistic themes. Avery’s first feature-length film; Killing Zoe, was labelled by Roger Ebert as Generation X’s first heist caper and is executed as such. A film in which characters are surrounded by the colour red and they delve deeper into the bowels of the bank they’ve decided to Rob. Avery also uses Otto Nemenz Swing & Tilt lenses to create the distorted feeling of being on heroin midway through the film. Rules is a mutation of this. While Killing Zoe has Eric Stolz’s Zed character holding the ability to ensure of earth-shattering orgasms to sex workers that he meets within minutes of sleeping them, Rules plays on the idea that these kids obtain absolutely no joy from their carnal pursuits or anything else for that matter.
Avery captures the novel's stream of consciousness with a
variety of self-involved narration from a variety of characters. A handy way of
capturing the distorted leaps in transition that occur in Ellis' book. There is
also the splintering of the narrative in a way that candidly reminds you that
this corrupt mind enjoyed teasing structure with Mr. Tarantino. The film
punctuates acts through parties and leaps through seasons with little desire to
notify the viewer, distorting the sense of time. Both the leaps and narration
not only provide an insular feeling but give a sense that these characters have
harboured these lustful misunderstanding for longer than they care to
admit.
The use of split-screen finds itself being used in a small
dorm room scene in which we’re provided with what looks to be a fantasy and a
reality. Paul invites Sean to his room for some pot. The screen splits in two
as we see Paul and Sean kiss and initiate sex (perhaps an eye-opening moment
for young Dawson Creek fans). The other half of the screen has Paul
masturbating in the same instance. Perhaps to the thought of what’s happening
in the former half. It looks to be a rather straightforward dream sequence yet actually becomes more interesting for fans of the book. In the book, Paul holds
comprehensively described accounts of himself and Sean being sexual partners.
In Sean’s accounts, these encounters are absent. This allows both accounts to
be ambiguous and contradictory. Avery’s use of the split-screen allows that
ambiguity into the relationship if only for a second. Either Paul is pursuing
and fantasising over a straight guy. Something we have already seen him do
earlier in the film, or he’s having a difficult intimate relationship with a
closeted bi guy who by all accounts, wants to keep it that way. It’s easy to
find the moment to be cut and dry, however having read the book, I personally
enjoy the idea that Avery appears to be giving the fans a hefty nod to the duo’s vague
relationship.
The film’s biggest trick lies in the middle of the film. A
five-minute, split-screen meet-cute in which Sean and Lauren encounter each
other in a class they share. A flashy sequence, but not one without substance.
In The Sundance Anatomy of a Scene series, Avery details that he wanted to
visually illustrate connection within a world of disconnection. Admittedly
borrowing film language from Douglas Sirk; who used the frame to unify and
divide characters within the frame. Avery uses the split to depicts the
differing routines of the two students before melding into a singular moment.
It’s a sequence so playful and in line with what one would typically expect from
a sweeter college comedy, it feels like it’s been lifted from an entirely
different film. This moment pertains to be the film's emotional centre. Sean
and Lauren seldom share a scene together. The scene plays up the dissimilarity
between the two characters. But the removal of Sean sunglasses by Lauren
provides a spark of connection. Initiating a small, elusive moment of
association in a film that enjoys disrupting connection at every turn. It’s
also the rise before the fall.
For a film full of stylistic tricks such as the split
screens or whole sequences where time moves backward you still need cast the
right good-looking people to make all the ugly antics click. Rules is a film
known for its stylistic traits but also features career-high performances from
many of the people involved. Let us not mistake dead-eyed and disaffected for
flat. Whether it’s James Van Der Beeks glazed Kubrickian stare or the way
Shannyn Sossamon holds a cigarette in a manner that screams “sardonic swagger”.
Each performance seems to grab hold of the film’s energy. Van Der Beek
especially thrives in the film. Rules was released with the young actor having
one last year has the so-called eternal optimist that was Dawson Leery. Sean
Bateman gives Van der Beek the type of role that could break the shackles of
the sweetheart character that made him known. Van der Beek holds a similarity
to Ryan Phillipe. Both seemed more well known as late 90’s heartthrobs, here,
much like Phillipe in Cruel Intentions (1999), both equally known their way
around sleazy and corrupt slimeballs. One of Van der Beek’s best moments lies
in the split-screen sequence. The small moment when Sossamon’s Lauren removes
his sunglasses and that small flicker of emotion is glimpsed. It’s an earnest
moment only bested by Sossamon’s tiny giggle moments later. Sossamon, who
looked fast-tracked to be a major star after a formidable run of mainstream
hits also hits her stride in this movie as a Daria Art School Dream Girl. It’s
easy to see why a college kid (especially Sean) would fall for her. That air of
devil may care attitude. The hint of being unattainable to anyone but Victor,
yet the films playing with form as already highlighted a pain that is already
made its mark. Ian Somerhalder may now enjoy a tv career of cavorting with the
undead, but his naïve and catty bi-guy performance mines a lot of the more
“approachable” humour. If you can call it that.
Credit should also go the film’s secret gem Theresa Wayman.
Shannyn Sossamon’s actual roommate at the time. Her small yet pivotal role is
wordless yet harbours all the feelings that the other character pretends to
have. Wayman’s major scene still holds an unbelievable amount of potency.
Mostly due to the combination of Wayman’s eyes wincing at the pain, and the
distortion that takes hold of the musical score. Even now this moment, the
hidden heart of the film, brings around destabilising feelings. The BBFC has
since cut the “bathtub” sequence for home screenings due to a technique that is
used. When I first watched it at the cinema in 2003 with a friend as stated previously, he
immediately left his seat after this scene. Returning 10 minutes later. Understandable.
And yet an unforgettable moment is completely lost on many
of the vapid characters. This is enforced when the film introduces us yet
another tactless character during the film's third act. The introduction of
Lauren’s beau Victor (Kip Pardue) is perhaps the most loved sequence of the
movie. Possibly because it is the most flashy and inimitable sequence of the
film. A rapid 4-minute hedonistic headrush, in which Pardue’s character leaps
from city to city in Europe in a cornucopia of base indulgence. The sequence
when isolated is an amusing four-minute short. However, when fitted into the
film it brings around a larger point of how all this indulgence is without
feeling. A young man with the means to travel Europe, notes his meaningless
sexual deviances longer than any of the landmarks and experiences he breezes
by. All the while his girlfriend pines for him, despite possibly wanting to
feed her needs with someone else. It all becomes swings and roundabouts as
everyone involved becomes entangled in their unrequited lusts. These people
pine for connection and yet yearn for lust.
I find that I tend to lean into certain youthful black
comedies and The Rules of Attraction is no different. I wonder if it is because
we are moving further into a culture in which people bicker even more about
what is politically correct. Ellis' book and in turn Avery’s film capture a
dark psychosis which would perhaps be more lost on a more “sensitive” movie. As
I loved the film from the time it was released to now, a part of me wonders if
there is sometimes a bit of honesty in the vacuous. Avery detailed that there
was a generational dissonance between critics and fans of the film and that if
you have never met the type of characters in Rules of Attraction then how could
you relate? I am inclined to agree with this. The American Pies of the world
sell you the lie.
That said. One thing about that meet-cute moment I still really love is that the class they missed was on the Post-modern condition. A quick google shows that there was a good chance they had read up on Jean-François Lyotard, who argued the notion of knowledge in postmodern society as the end of 'grand narratives'. I find that funny to see that in a film in which the plot has no real beginning or a true sense of...
