This film is all form and no content, with the gloss of a commercial for an overly ambitious hair spray. But the real product here is an exceedingly tawdry form of eroticism, featuring a pushover woman who deserves the words “dim-witted victim” stenciled in red ink across her forehead.
The impeccable Alex (Brigitte Bako), an unbelievably successful interior designer, is suffocating in a relationship with her fiance, the exquisite Jake (David Duchovny), an unbelievably successful city planner and architect.
Alex wants a secret, something that is hers alone. Alas, she discovers Tom (Billy Wirth), construction worker by day, shoe salesman by night, a man who oozes just enough sleaze, gel and ersatz sensuality to qualify for a guest slot on “Studs.”
He becomes her secret and they engage in some overproduced and, for the viewer at least, anesthetizing lovemaking. But her relish of controlling the relationship with this blue collar Casanova concludes when he turns the tables. When she wants to terminate the relationship, Tom threatens to go public and destroy her unbelievably successful career/relationship.
There are secret diaries, a horrific death, a key pair of shoes, some shirtless male wrestling, etc.
The performers have no alternative but to play to the level of their material (written by Patricia Knop and Zalman King), which makes them more objects of sympathy than involvement. The music has an engaging, edgy flair and the production is admirably mounted.
Most horrific, though, is the revelation that this is a setup episode for an anthology series, in which Jake solicits the secret diaries of women who, just like Alex, harbor secrets–or are victims of secrets. It is probably no secret that those diaries will reveal partial nudity, ripped underwear, simulated lovemaking and, alas, advanced monotony.