This is still a revelatory movie about sexual paranoia and the
instability of relationships. Only Spader has subsequently come
close (in Crash) to matching the power of his work here as the creepy
voyeur Graham. There's a morbid elegance in the way the characters
circle and manipulate each other, a chilling lack of feeling, that cuts
to the icy heart of the matter. The film's formal precision and the
sleek, expensive minimalism of on-screen architecture suggest
living death, as 1980s consumerism worms its way into sexual politics
and eats out the very soul of the characters.
