I don’t know if it was the sheer intrigue of watching two motherlovers actually you know each other’s mothers, or if it was simply the fact that I didn’t feel like getting up off the couch. Either way, I spent my Friday night watching Robin Wright and Naomi Watts play sort-of lesbians who end up getting involved with each other’s sons in Adore. And I wish I could say I regret the experience.
I’m not here to argue that Adore is a great film, because it’s not. I knew what I was going to get before I hit “play,” which is what allowed me to watch the film without judgment — or perhaps just with less judgment than most. But regardless, before I knew it, I had fallen into this troubling story, and I didn’t know why. There was something magnetic about the film that I couldn’t identify. All I knew was that I didn’t want it to end. Let me reiterate: I didn’t want this story about two best friends, each one having sex with the other’s son (whom they’d helped to raise), to end.
So at this point I’m thinking there’s something wrong with me, right?