ExoticaFulfilling desires is a transactional agreement among strangers, and even acquaintances. It's why prostitution is often referred to as "the world's oldest profession". Consider: "Person A" wants something from "Person B", but Person B doesn't want to give it. Person A knows that Person B wants something that Person A can give in exchange, so ultimately Person B agrees. And thus economics was born. This thought underscores the entirety of Atom Egoyan's erotic drama, Exotica. Following several people whose lives intersect in and around a strip club in Toronto named "Exotica", the movie is a quiet meditation on the awkward ways with which we interact with people when we want something that we cannot have in our everyday lives.
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Exotica is one of those movies released in the Nineties that quietly snuck under the radar for many. I blame the overly salacious trailer that treats the story like a trashy skin flick, which--despite the setting--couldn't be farther from reality. Exotica is a tale deeply saturated in sadness, from start to finish. It isn't because the women in the strip club--like the beautiful yet jaded Christina (Mia Kirshner)--are exploited...that is, they aren't exploited any more than anyone else who takes off their clothes for money. No, it's because the main characters in Exotica are each afflicted with desires that are largely elusive for them. (Out of necessity to explore the meaning of the story, spoilers follow.) Let's begin with pet store owner and amateur exotic macau smuggler, Thomas Pinto (Don McKellar), because this is where the movie begins. Thomas is awkward at every step in the film, including his choice of attire, which always looks like it is worn to make him into someone who he isn't. Thomas makes repeated visits to the ballet, where he scalps tickets to would-be attendees. And Thomas is a closeted homosexual; in each instance, he specifically offers to sell his "extra" ticket to a handsome man, and the suggestion is that after each show, there may be more "transactions" to be had between them. For Thomas, there are at least two (probably more) things which he wants but does not openly declare: a one-night stand with a man and supplemental income from his exotic egg smuggling, implied to be to help support his late father's failing pet shop. Then there is Francis Brown (Bruce Greenwood), a tax auditor who is inspecting discrepancies in Thomas' books, and who himself makes frequent visits to Exotica, where he always requests Christina to dance at his table. Their interactions are intense, but not overtly sexual. He uses this time with Christina to exorcise the trauma from losing his daughter; she was murdered two years prior. Christina's routine of dancing in a schoolgirl outfit feeds into Francis' delusions, so that he can summon his daughter back once more, and so that he can "protect" her from further harm. When he says this to Christina, is he talking about his daughter or Christina? Francis also simulates his past life before the tragedy by hiring his niece, Tracey (Sarah Polley), to "babysit" his house while he is at the club. Implied to be a part of their arrangement, Tracey practices her music so that when he comes home, it can be as though his daughter were still alive. Francis is a widower; his wife died in a car accident after he discovered that she was having an affair with his brother, Harold (Victor Garber)--Tracey's father--who was left wheelchair bound afterward. Christina--like the other dancers--will dance at a guest's table for five dollars, with the rule being that there is to be no touching the dancer as they perform. Francis pays Christina and Tracey for their respective contributions to quelling his personal demons. And when Francis needs assistance to infiltrate the club later, he coerces Thomas into being his mole by offering to conceal his tax evasion in turn. And finally there is Eric (Elias Koteas), the DJ for Exotica, who introduces each new dancer with enticing statements about their sex appeal, giving special attention to Christina. This is because both of them met while students--during simpler times--and became lovers. At some point, however, the implication is that Christina then took up with the owner of Exotica, a woman named Zoe (Arsinée Khanjian), who is pregnant with Eric's baby; and all three of them still work together at the club. Eric supposedly has agreed to "never lie" to Christina, but in key moments he conceals the truth through vague or pointed dialogue. He also stalks the hidden chambers around the club, spying on patrons while commenting over the loudspeakers into his microphone about his observations in nonspecific ways. Eric harbors resentment that Christina appears to want everyone except for him, and schemes to sabotage her work, with Francis becoming collateral damage. For Eric, despite being the voice of Exotica, he has nothing with which to barter, and so he could be considered the film's "antagonist", constantly undermining the transactional efforts of others.
Exotica is a movie with strong visual motifs, either deliberately speaking to the characters' motivations or subverting them. The most outstanding example of this is the constant exchange of currency, largely by Francis. Francis is successful enough to afford him the luxury of a fine house, a nice suit, and time to spend at Exotica. He shows his gratitude for services by handing young women money; isn't this a form of "prostitution", even though there is no exchange of sexual favors? I say this, even though Christina puts on the show of an exotic dance for all of her clients, including Francis. As the relationship between them isn't fully established until the ending, it would appear at first glance as though Francis is motivated by Christina's sexuality, and yet it couldn't be farther from the truth. When the jealous Eric taunts Francis incognito to touch Christina, it gets Francis thrown out of the club...violently, and more importantly, by Eric himself. Eric, Zoe, and Christina all agree that he "broke the rule", but they mean this in differing ways. For Eric, it was a deliberate ploy to end something he could not enjoy himself, while for Zoe the rule allows her to maintain a semblance of control over the vision her mother had about the club, which she desperately tries to keep consistent with that vision. (Interestingly, both Zoe and Thomas seem bound by the enterprises of their deceased parents.) But for Christina, it goes deeper. When Thomas is sent into the club with a wire on Francis' behalf, Christina divulges that Francis has reciprocated things for her, explained to an extent in the ending. In a sense, Francis and Christina's relationship was more "pure" than any other. She was the original babysitter to his daughter, yet it is implied that she had a troubled home life. Francis offered to be her confidant out of nothing more than kindness...and yet he ultimately pays her for watching his daughter at the end of the car ride back to her house. Every time Francis offers money, it seems to reduce these young women into nothing more than agents for Francis' need, despite his best intentions. In this, Exotica offers a critical commentary on the inherent dangers of a society that uses money to compel others into doing something that they wouldn't ordinarily do. This is also found in the way Thomas uses ballet tickets to entice other men--all implied to be gay--into an engagement, with the implication of sexual favors in return. Thomas only gets the idea for this after sharing a cab ride from the airport with a businessman (Peter Krantz) who give him a pair of tickets because he can no longer attend, suggesting that he scalp them if he doesn't want to go himself. The man asked Thomas if he likes ballet, and somewhere deep down, Thomas' urges were no doubt stirred into thinking that he might be getting solicited himself--and the idea was planted. The whole act of scalping the tickets feels as though it were a part of a facade for cruising, a masquerade for certain men looking for romance without coming out and saying so. This role-playing routine of buying and selling ballet tickets becomes a kind of ritual, not that dissimilar to the ritual of exotic dancing performed at Exotica by nubile women in various states of undress for men in suits, prepared to pay to transform their fantasies into reality by degrees.
The other strong visual motif in Exotica comes by way of one-way mirrors. This is evidenced from the very beginning of the film when a customs officer (Calvin Green) watches Thomas through the glass. His colleague advises him to treat everyone as though they were trying to hide something, and to pay close attention to people's behavior--a key statement that informs the rest of Exotica, as it happens. Thomas gazes deep into the mirror--at his own reflection--while the officer feels as though he were staring at him. It is ironic, then, that the two should meet later at the ballet, each of them connecting with the other while looking to obtain something they subconsciously know that the other can offer. (Although I would be hard pressed to imagine a customs officer so thoroughly dedicated to seizing contraband as to go as far as this one does!) The other one-way mirrors are to be found in the club itself, from which both Eric and Zoe spy on Christina specifically, aroused by the performance she gives for her clients. For both of them, there is something even more erotic about the act of watching than participating. Zoe later reveals that these halls were built not as she originally indicated--by her mother to keep her dancers safe--but at the behest of a wealthy patron who wanted to watch the dancers for this very same reason. Film always has an inherently voyeuristic quality. We watch actors perform for our enjoyment, through which we glean a greater understanding about the human condition, in all of its myriad forms. As with movies ranging from Peeping Tom to Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, this makes us complicit in the acts performed within the film, although we always have that safety net to stop the movie whenever it gets too difficult or challenging. So in a sense, the television becomes a "one-way mirror" into a world staged to satisfy our own desires. And, yes, this also often comes with the exchange of money for the privilege. The idea that one person is in control and that the other is the receiver of the controller's message is revisited when Eric suggests to both Francis then Thomas to touch Christina. He plants an idea that he wants to see manifest, and the others perform for him because he has motivated them to do so. You have to question just how much of our lives has been manipulated by others? Similar to the one-way mirrors and movies themselves, Eric becomes the "director" of the events on stage at "Exotica", and we watch the performance, influenced and affected by these events, which in turn ask us to consider just what they symbolize. And like the patrons of the club, once the show is over, we walk back out onto the streets of life with a new perspective, pointed toward a new destination by the director of the performance. Has the veil of artifice been peeled away from our eyes, or has it merely been replaced?
Recommended for: Fans of a complex and nuanced psychological drama deceptively packaged as sleazy "Skinemax" fare, at least if its spurious trailer is any indication. Exotica raised important questions about key elements of modern society, from the psychological cost of commerce to our inherent desire to watch and control events around us, even when we aren't directly involved--because each of us is a member of the audience of the world.
Exotica is a movie with strong visual motifs, either deliberately speaking to the characters' motivations or subverting them. The most outstanding example of this is the constant exchange of currency, largely by Francis. Francis is successful enough to afford him the luxury of a fine house, a nice suit, and time to spend at Exotica. He shows his gratitude for services by handing young women money; isn't this a form of "prostitution", even though there is no exchange of sexual favors? I say this, even though Christina puts on the show of an exotic dance for all of her clients, including Francis. As the relationship between them isn't fully established until the ending, it would appear at first glance as though Francis is motivated by Christina's sexuality, and yet it couldn't be farther from the truth. When the jealous Eric taunts Francis incognito to touch Christina, it gets Francis thrown out of the club...violently, and more importantly, by Eric himself. Eric, Zoe, and Christina all agree that he "broke the rule", but they mean this in differing ways. For Eric, it was a deliberate ploy to end something he could not enjoy himself, while for Zoe the rule allows her to maintain a semblance of control over the vision her mother had about the club, which she desperately tries to keep consistent with that vision. (Interestingly, both Zoe and Thomas seem bound by the enterprises of their deceased parents.) But for Christina, it goes deeper. When Thomas is sent into the club with a wire on Francis' behalf, Christina divulges that Francis has reciprocated things for her, explained to an extent in the ending. In a sense, Francis and Christina's relationship was more "pure" than any other. She was the original babysitter to his daughter, yet it is implied that she had a troubled home life. Francis offered to be her confidant out of nothing more than kindness...and yet he ultimately pays her for watching his daughter at the end of the car ride back to her house. Every time Francis offers money, it seems to reduce these young women into nothing more than agents for Francis' need, despite his best intentions. In this, Exotica offers a critical commentary on the inherent dangers of a society that uses money to compel others into doing something that they wouldn't ordinarily do. This is also found in the way Thomas uses ballet tickets to entice other men--all implied to be gay--into an engagement, with the implication of sexual favors in return. Thomas only gets the idea for this after sharing a cab ride from the airport with a businessman (Peter Krantz) who give him a pair of tickets because he can no longer attend, suggesting that he scalp them if he doesn't want to go himself. The man asked Thomas if he likes ballet, and somewhere deep down, Thomas' urges were no doubt stirred into thinking that he might be getting solicited himself--and the idea was planted. The whole act of scalping the tickets feels as though it were a part of a facade for cruising, a masquerade for certain men looking for romance without coming out and saying so. This role-playing routine of buying and selling ballet tickets becomes a kind of ritual, not that dissimilar to the ritual of exotic dancing performed at Exotica by nubile women in various states of undress for men in suits, prepared to pay to transform their fantasies into reality by degrees.
The other strong visual motif in Exotica comes by way of one-way mirrors. This is evidenced from the very beginning of the film when a customs officer (Calvin Green) watches Thomas through the glass. His colleague advises him to treat everyone as though they were trying to hide something, and to pay close attention to people's behavior--a key statement that informs the rest of Exotica, as it happens. Thomas gazes deep into the mirror--at his own reflection--while the officer feels as though he were staring at him. It is ironic, then, that the two should meet later at the ballet, each of them connecting with the other while looking to obtain something they subconsciously know that the other can offer. (Although I would be hard pressed to imagine a customs officer so thoroughly dedicated to seizing contraband as to go as far as this one does!) The other one-way mirrors are to be found in the club itself, from which both Eric and Zoe spy on Christina specifically, aroused by the performance she gives for her clients. For both of them, there is something even more erotic about the act of watching than participating. Zoe later reveals that these halls were built not as she originally indicated--by her mother to keep her dancers safe--but at the behest of a wealthy patron who wanted to watch the dancers for this very same reason. Film always has an inherently voyeuristic quality. We watch actors perform for our enjoyment, through which we glean a greater understanding about the human condition, in all of its myriad forms. As with movies ranging from Peeping Tom to Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, this makes us complicit in the acts performed within the film, although we always have that safety net to stop the movie whenever it gets too difficult or challenging. So in a sense, the television becomes a "one-way mirror" into a world staged to satisfy our own desires. And, yes, this also often comes with the exchange of money for the privilege. The idea that one person is in control and that the other is the receiver of the controller's message is revisited when Eric suggests to both Francis then Thomas to touch Christina. He plants an idea that he wants to see manifest, and the others perform for him because he has motivated them to do so. You have to question just how much of our lives has been manipulated by others? Similar to the one-way mirrors and movies themselves, Eric becomes the "director" of the events on stage at "Exotica", and we watch the performance, influenced and affected by these events, which in turn ask us to consider just what they symbolize. And like the patrons of the club, once the show is over, we walk back out onto the streets of life with a new perspective, pointed toward a new destination by the director of the performance. Has the veil of artifice been peeled away from our eyes, or has it merely been replaced?
Recommended for: Fans of a complex and nuanced psychological drama deceptively packaged as sleazy "Skinemax" fare, at least if its spurious trailer is any indication. Exotica raised important questions about key elements of modern society, from the psychological cost of commerce to our inherent desire to watch and control events around us, even when we aren't directly involved--because each of us is a member of the audience of the world.