*ing : James Spader, Andie MacDowell, Peter Gallagher
Director : Steven Soderbergh
Tagline :
Steven Soderbergh's acclaimed debut feature is actually less kinky than a quick synopsis would suggest: an impotent drifter (James Spader) with an undefined source of income and a curious hobby (videotaping the sexual confessions of women) befriends the inhibited wife of an old college pal, who meanwhile is enjoying a torrid affair with his own sister-in-law. The subtle interplay of tensions and emotions between each character must have seemed more than usually absorbing to moviegoers in the late 1980s conditioned by a decade of low-IQ blockbusters. It certainly helped jump-start (in a big way) the career of its writer-director, who in his first film bucked current trends by favoring substance over style, serving his cast with some witty banter and giving them plenty of elbow room in which to work.
Soderbergh revealed a gift for writing natural dialogue, and for coaching unforced performances from his actors (love those pregnant pauses). But the story might have made more sense if he didn't identify so obviously with his enigmatic anti-hero: the lone artist who drifts into town and promptly changes everyone's life (including his own). And the resolution is unforgivably neat: a suddenly (and illogically) galvanized Andie MacDowell forces Spader to unburden his own hang-ups on camera, after which the two of them settle down to live happily ever after while her two-timing yuppie scum husband loses both his girlfriend and, presumably, his high-salary job.
The film as a result presents a curious morality tale with no clear moral, but Soderburgh was clearly a talent to watch. And the director showed enough intuition to recognize video technology as not only an emblem of emotional detachment in an age of dysfunctional communication, but also as an instrument of hard truth.
Rating :
*** & ½
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