Let Them Eat Cake

"Les Liaisons Dangereuses" is pretty delicious. Marie Antoinette loved the play, and it's no surprise. I can see her in a castle window, silk slippers tangled in blankets, the script precarious on a tray of cakes. We discussed the script in a basement classroom, the white walls all too familiar from thriller movies in which the guilty correspondent knows they're fucked, captured, the interrogation long and perverse. The diligent kids were focusing on the page, unwrapping candy bars and trying to ascertain who the Bad Guys were. I was flipping through, highlighting the lines I liked best. You have to hand it to Mr. Christopher Hampton: the man does sinister sex well. Listen to this: "You see, I have no intention of breaking down her prejudices. I want her to believe in God and virtue and the sanctity of marriage, and still not be able to stop herself. I want passion, in other words. Not the kind we're used to, which is as cold as it's superficial, I don't get much pleasure out of that any more. No. I want the excitement of watching her betray everything that's most important to her. Surely you understand that. I thought betrayal was your favourite word." That is cold cold cold and so good good good. Call me evil, but sinister love games amuse. I don't envy Cecile, the innocent who promises languor and sex, awaiting her education. I'm not advocating real-life heartaches and heartbreaks but there's something to be said for the polished cynicism of the piece. Love ain't no chess game but strategy never hurt.