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Pretty Thing
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There’s a neat structural device organising Pretty Thing. It starts with Elliot (ever-haunted-looking Karl Glusman) glumly bearing his demeaning work as a cater-waiter (I’d never heard that term before). But then he locks eyes with Sophie (Alicia Silverstone), who – as her sister Tammy (Amanda Blanchard) later exclaims – is “always shooting off sexual energy” in every upmarket bar or professional drinks-gathering in New York … and the shot meets its target. Nights of passion follow – including an all-expenses-paid trip for Elliot to Paris. He becomes obsessed; she tries him on as relationship material, but then thinks better of it (more on this below). Stalking, messages left at Sophie’s marketing workplace, mysterious openings and closings of the internal elevator door in her apartment (maybe that architectural feature is not such a great lifestyle accompaniment, after all). At the moment when Elliot surmises (mistakenly) that Sophie has a husband or live-in lover, he breaks down and cries, falling into the arms of the ailing and rather infantile mother (Catherine Curtin) with whom he still lives … That’s mid-way. Then the film switches from his milieu and viewpoint to hers. Not to replay the plot so far (mercifully), but (as they say these days) going forward. Up to now, Sophie has figured as a modern femme fatale; we had no idea whether she was ever telling the truth about anything. Surprise: she was, all the time. We see her problems as a mature-age businesswoman in a firm that denies her advancement opportunities – rather like Halle Berry’s role in Crime 101 (2026), except dialled back from mid 50s (Berry is now, in reality, 59) to late 40s in age – and we get more detail about that shooting-sex-energy pastime. Aside: Alicia Silverstone! For a cinephile like me who, at the age of 35, was indelibly marked by the revelation of Clueless (1995), this actor’s subsequent career has proved endlessly fascinating. Cruising in many B genre movies and voice-parts for animation, but also redeemed from that obscurity by Yorgos Lanthimos (twice) and by the Dutch makers of the sadly little-known, would-be cult-object Krazy House (2024) – all of whom are also Clueless fans, I’m sure! And here she is cast in a ‘steamy erotic thriller’ – which sort-of takes us full cycle right back to Silverstone’s pre-superstar, sexy-teen roles in The Crush (1993), Hideaway (1995) and The Babysitter (1995). Back to the structure. Once the switch-pivot has happened at half-time, director Justin Kelly (this is his fifth feature – two of them feature James Franco, and another is the awful JT LeRoy [2018]) can alternate the two character strands – and escalate into a move/countermove game of wits. He’s a creepy, psychotic guy … but don’t underestimate Sophie, who has some devastatingly unnerving Blue Steel (1990)-type moves up her sleeve, including major training in self-defence! It culminates (no spoiler here) in a superbly engineered match-cut between the final two shots, showing each character alone. I always enjoy the triumph of such formalist touches in otherwise routine movies. There’s nothing else terribly special or novel about this film (scripted by UK actor Jack Donnelly and shot in 2023 under the brave working title The Bird and the Bee), but I enjoyed watching it. One aspect took me right back to the age of 16 or 17, when I saw Taxi Driver (1976) in first release on a big screen, and realised how the mechanics of class difference can be expertly indexed and used in a narrative. Like Travis Bickle in Scorsese’s film (and Schrader’s script), Elliot here makes the big mistake of taking Sophie out on a date that he thinks is a high-class good time – but reflects only the limits of the world he already, exclusively knows. They attend a play, and end up in a bar where Elliot’s young actor-friend (and brief ex-girlfriend) appears for a bout of double-date socialising. The reminder of her age bracket, the declassé theatre performance she must endure, the low-class pub setting, the obligation to chat with strangers … it all sends Sophie instantly hurtling out of this potential relationship. No more secret nights in Paris for him, alas! And when Alicia Silverstone tells you it’s over, you better believe it: it’s over. In a possibly sadomasochistic, never-ending way … © Adrian Martin 25 July 2026 |
