The Shape of Things
by Mark Sells

Director Neil LaBute is known for his dramas depicting cruel psychological games. In his debut, In The Company of Men (1997), two men, tired of suffering miserable fates at the hands of women, concoct a scheme to boost their egos: they pick a vulnerable woman, wine and dine her, and then, once she begins to fall in love with them, they kick her to the curb. Following in those footsteps is The Shape of Things, a film that explores the tempestuous relationship between Adam and Evelyn, two individuals searching for truth, but with completely different motives. Harsh, unflattering, and outrageous, it is guaranteed to leave an impression.

Adam (Paul Rudd) works part time as a security guard for a museum near California’s fictional Mercy College. One day, with his shift almost over, he encounters Evelyn (Rachel Weisz), a free spirit who appears obsessed with a statue of a naked man. Evelyn takes Polaroids of the figure’s genitalia and even crosses the boundaries to get a closer look. The statue, obscured by a fig leaf, offends her because it represents an obvious attempt at censorship. Before she can deface it with a can of spray paint, Adam approaches her. Awkwardly shy and reserved, Adam charms her and gets her phone number painted on his jacket. Instantly, opposites attract and the two form a unique love connection.

Over the next several months, the two become inseparable, and Adam slowly begins to change in behavior and appearance. He gets rid of his nerdy jacket and purchases a new one; he gets contact lenses in place of his glasses; he has plastic surgery, stops chewing his fingernails, and even loses weight. Gradually, Adam changes from an overweight, introverted nerd into a slim, outgoing and confident guy.

Shocked by this transformation are his two friends, Philip (Fred Weller) and Jenny (Gretchen Mol). Philip was Adam’s former roommate, and Jenny was the girl that got away. The two appear happily engaged, and are even planning an outlandish underwater wedding. But interesting character traits and pasts are uncovered as Evelyn begins to push each of their buttons, forcing a variety of changes in personae. While the characters give the outward appearance that things are okay, internally things are not what they seem. Says Evelyn: “It’s a living example of our obsession with the surface of things.” As relationships rapidly evolve and dissolve, it would seem that nothing could prepare them for the unexpected, explosive finale.

The Shape of Things was written as a stage play and was produced on Broadway before appearing as a film. Thus, dialogue is what drives the film, particularly since it is comprised of only four characters and roughly twenty different scenes. Much like LaBute's second film, Your Friends & Neighbors (1998), where three men are pitted against three women, this quartet interacts in a way in which men and women are perceived as enemies in an ongoing battle of the sexes. But what makes for an interesting stage play doesn’t always translate to film very well. At times, the scenes seem to drag. Instead of allowing the actors’ expressions to move and resolve a scene, the need for additional dialogue weighs the scenes down, even after we’ve concluded how it’s going to end. In a scene between Adam and Jenny, we slowly learn more about their feelings for one another. Yet, before the two meet, we already know their history and sense their mutual feelings. Despite attempts to make the scene more interesting by migrating from park bench to playground to ocean panorama, the dialogue becomes monotonous and unnecessary.

LaBute deliberately emphasizes his themes, both visually and subliminally. Without further explanation, we know that Evelyn (and most likely LaBute himself) is against censorship and that whether you like it or not, it’s better to be opinionated than indifferent.

Of most importance is the notion that seduction is an art form. In other words, is it possible for manipulation, the ability to alter or change something or someone for selfish reasons, to be an art form? When interpreting this kind of "art" throughout the film, it is crucial to focus on how art is manufactured - that art is conceived through the application of skill and creativity to produce something that is beautiful. I found this ambiguity interesting. I believe, however, that while seduction requires a certain degree of skill and creativity, it is not an expression of oneself. Art, therefore, cannot be rendered through mental persuasion or suggestion.

Paul Rudd is wonderfully playful as the evolutionary Adam (note the coincidence in names – Adam and Eve-lyn). Like a puppy dog with a crush, Rudd shows a remarkable range of expressiveness encapsulated in a series of facial expressions – from a childlike grin of joy to a bewildered look of surprise to an emblazoned visage of rage. It's a phenomenal performance. Equally up to the task is Rachel Weisz, who also produced the film. Although the role of Evelyn may be less dynamic, it is still potent because she is a woman on a mission. This degree of seriousness requires the opposite type of expression: distant, chaotic, and delusional.

For LaBute, The Shape of Things is a return to grotesque portraits of corroding relationships. Although at times it appears contrived and dialogue-heavy, it earns solid marks because it evokes an internal reaction (not to mention a reaction to one of the most humiliating moments in cinematic history). It's a thought provoking film - you may hate it, love it, or simply appreciate it. But that is film and that is art: an explorative, creative, and utterly subjective form of personal expression.

©2003 Mark Sells
CineScene