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"Fatal Abstraction." In Ridley Scott's Someone to Watch Over Me, a cop (Tom Berenger) is assigned to guard a rich woman (Mimi Rogers) who witnessed a murder. He loves his wife but is seduced by the lady's wealth and vulnerability. And then -- can you hear it coming? -- his child is kidnaped. The cop must wake up to his duties and rely on his wife's cunning to help outwit the killer. Ironically, this exercise in high style may have gone lame with audiences because of its accidental echoes of Fatal Attraction. It's too close, but without the kick. Scott lays an abstract '40s feeling on an '80s theme and gets lost in the mists of film noir.
"Fatal Repulsion." In Andy Anderson's minimalist revenge drama Positive I.D., a Texas real estate agent (Stephanie Rascoe) is raped. When she learns that the rapist is up for parole, she devises a second identity for herself, that of a good-time gal named Bobbie, and hangs out at a bar owned by the rapist's uncle. She soon sees that Bobbie is a more suitable, rewarding part than the quiet housewife she has been playing for too many years. She might be Fatal Attraction's Beth, now cosseted and corseted by marriage, who'd rather be a free and healthy Alex. As it turns out, Bobbie's a killer too.
"Datal Attraction." The thriller is not the only genre chilled by contemporary sexual skirmishing. In Armyan Bernstein's comedy Cross My Heart, two nice people (Martin Short and Annette O'Toole) endure the Date of Death. He borrows his best friend's car and apartment; one is stolen, the other trashed. She gets a leg cramp while they make out; he sees his shirt get singed on a nearby lamp as they make love. She won't tell him she has a young daughter; he won't tell her he has just lost his job. This sweet, slightly strained film finds knowing laughs in all the frustrations of modern romance. The couple must proclaim themselves free of herpes and AIDS before easing into bed, she with her diaphragm, he with his condom (or is it hers?). They both know that in an age of erotic malaise, the mating dance is often an audition for a show that gets rotten reviews and closes on opening night. As O'Toole sighs, when her sister tells her to have fun, "Dating isn't fun!"
Dating, or even tiptoeing outside the cathedral of wedlock for a weekend tryst, isn't supposed to be deadly either. But drama is often the imagination of disaster, and horror is the escalation of primal anxieties (pregnancy, puberty, even dentistry) into touchstone fantasies (Rosemary's Baby, The Exorcist, Marathon Man). Says Fatal Attraction's screenwriter James Dearden: "I wanted to take every situation to the worst-possible-case scenario and see what happened."
So his plot is worth parsing, right up to the "surprise" ending that most Americans must by now know by heart. (No peeking at the next five paragraphs if you haven't seen the film.) Start with a Manhattan marriage, radiant in its yup-scale domesticity. Beth (Anne Archer) gets dressed for a party -- sexy. Dan walks the dog -- cute. Daughter Ellen (Ellen Hamilton Latzen) crawls into bed with Mom -- poignant. To an outsider, their life must look like a New Age greeting card.