Jealousy is such a living hell that Claude Chabrol made arguably the definitive film on the subject and literally called it L’Enfer. This is an area of human relations with which Deep Water director Adrian Lyne is very comfortable, having previously directed Fatal Attraction, Indecent Proposal, Lolita (which I find superior to Kubrick’s version), and Unfaithful (loosely based on Chabrol's La Femme Infidèle. Coincidence?). To call this a retread is somewhat of an understatement, but Lyne is wise to have chosen familiar territory for his return from a 20-year break from directing.
Deep Water is likewise a good career move for Ben Affleck; it gets him back on track after he followed the great The Way Back with The Last Duel and The Tender Bar (although Deep Water would have preceded all those films had it not been for covid-related delays; funny how things work). Here is a movie that allows him to give a subtly nuanced performance, and he doesn’t disappoint, taking passive-aggressiveness and elevating it into an art form.
Affleck now joins his BFF Matt Damon as actors who have shined in roles based on characters created by Patricia Highsmith (and indeed this is how one might imagine Tom Ripley’s married life to be). Ana de Armas is also quite good as Melinda, Vic’s (Affleck) wife, a thoroughly despicable bitch on wheels whose only redeeming quality is Vic’s unconditional love for her.
Oh, he loves her with almost all his heart. I say ‘almost’ because his heart may or may not be able to pump enough blood to a certain other organ – thus it is tacitly agreed that Melinda has the freedom to find solace elsewhere, usually in the arms of intellectually challenged younger men. This arrangement is no secret among the couple’s friends because Melinda is also an alcoholic with zero self-awareness.
Vic dismisses the whole thing in public with a blend of dry wit, deadpan sarcasm, and self-deprecating humor (which provides some of the best dialogue in the film) that can turn ambiguously menacing at the drop of hat, especially when he finds himself alone with one of Melinda’s boytoys.
In addition to Chabrol, Lyne puts me in mind of iconoclastic British filmmaker Peter Greenaway – and not just because Vic’s pet snails remind me of A Zed & Two Noughts. I generally find movies where characters literally get away with murder in one way or another to be immoral; the few exceptions to this rule include films like Greenaway's in which there is no conventional morality to speak of in the first place. In Deep Water, no major, plot-relevant character is innocent, and they all get what they deserve – even when, like Vic, they get what they want.
