I heard somewhere that Milos Forman didn't reread "Les Liaisons Dangereuses" before writing the screenplay for Valmont, but worked instead from his memory of its sex-positive, good-natured blasphemy (my adjectives). I don't know if that's true, but it's a useful origin myth and yet, it renders the slightly bloated blandness of "Valmont" all the sadder. If its lurking turgidity could be blamed on fidelity to a well-padded book, the case would be unfortunate but not unusual. But the truth is that even the mush-mouthed Meg Tilly isn't entirely to blame for the film's lack of luster (although she does have a lot to answer for). No, the problem with "Valmont" is that there are no stakes. No character takes anything seriously, and it is therefore hard for a viewer to do so. Madame de Merteuil's constant, pretty smiles are those of the life of a fairly good party. The Vicomte de Valmont is a sweetie, really, and if he hurts a fly or two along the way, since the flies don't mind much, why should we? Of course, "Valmont" is supposed to be a satire on upper class hypocrisy - I get that. But it paints its portraits with such temperate clarity that it's impossible to miss this point and therefore there is nothing for a viewer to do, to root out, to think. "Valmont" is not a bad film it's just not a good one either. And yet, that is exactly why I have taken the time to write this comment, for I can think of few other films that are so puzzlingly not quite good in their consummate inoffensiveness.
Review of Valmont
