Dangerous Liaisons & Cruel Intentions

Sex, Lies, and Signed Letters

“I don’t know, my charming friend, whether I have read or understood badly your letter, the little tale you relate, and the epistolary model it contains.” - Vicomte de Valmont to the Marchioness de Merteuil

Les Liaisons dangereuses (Dangerous Liaisons) by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos is often cited as one of the 100 greatest novels in history. I am a college educated person. I have read seven books so far this year, ranging from children’s fiction to nonfiction memoir to modernist romance. I would like to impress upon you, dear Reader, that I earnestly engage with a wide variety of material. Given all of that, I am at a loss with Dangerous Liaisons. It is possible I am reading a poor translation. I am currently working my way through the Penguin Deluxe Classics Edition of In Search of Lost Time and the writing is fluid, beautiful, and smacks of being truthful to Marcel Proust’s original intent. On the other hand, de Laclos’ prose is as dense as a day-old baguette, and slightly less enjoyable at that.

I freely admit that SparkNotes was a frequent companion as I worked my way through the novel. I don’t think anyone can find fault in this and for proof I submit this line from the abbreviated summary itself: “Language is often the means of entrapment. Cécile’s letters reveal her innocence and ignorance, and they are also extremely boring.”

Does this mean de Laclos is a bad writer? Of course not! But, there are some cultural hurdles that cannot be overcome. Time and space is too great between then and now. A pun heavy work of fiction filled with moral depravity and enough backstabbing to make the cast of Gossip Girl blush should be a fun diversion, not something that requires multiple readings to understand. The original 1782 novel has been adapted for stage, opera, ballet, radio, and screen dozens of times. Clearly, there’s something here.

Of all of the adaptations, including the 1988 film which won three Academy Awards and was nominated for seven total, there is one that is notable to me for the bold changes it makes to the original and how, in doing so, it makes the tale significantly more approachable: 1999’s Cruel Intentions starring Ryan Phillippe, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and Reese Witherspoon. Though it has some faults, Cruel Intentions is successful in the only way that matters—making the story as meaningful to contemporary youth as when it was written. The cautionary tale of the Vicomte de Valmont and the Marchioness de Merteuil is applicable hundreds of years later if translated properly or, should we say, adapted properly.

To back up for a second, Dangerous Liaisons is about the psychosexual manipulations of two members of the French aristocracy as they plan to exact revenge on a pair of ex-lovers. Despite major changes in setting, from 18th century France to a private boarding school in New York City, the plot remains much the same.

Valmont, named Sebastian Valmont in Cruel Intentions, is a wicked villain; one of the most terrible in all of literature. He takes pleasure in carnal delights and exerts power over the innocent women around him. De Laclos chose the epistolary form, a novel composed entirely of letters, utilizing innuendo and subtly to convey action, which leaves room for interpretation. That being said, there are no unreliable narrators to be found. Everyone, while perhaps they could be less vague in their missives, is being completely honest. This paper trail is ultimately the undoing of Merteuil in book and film.

However, these gaps in the narrative are where I struggle with the actions of Valmont as a morality play. We are not in the private chambers where Valmont is seducing Cécile de Volanges or the Présidente de Tourvel. There is absolutely a power imbalance, but letters from both women indicate some level of consent to Valmont’s visits. There is less ambiguity in the film adaptation, specifically in the scene where Sebastian blackmails Cecile. He’s a bad guy, so why are all of the writers so forgiving of Valmont?

This is my main issue with the story, though it does not take away from the overall meaning. Is his spurn of Merteuil, proof of his pure love for Tourvel/Hargrove, enough to redeem him as a character? Are his apologies to Danceny enough to balance the scales? In the end, Merteuil is ruined—disfigured in the book, dishonored in the movie—by Valmont’s meticulous archival habits. While he gets the last laugh, does his death indicate his corrupted soul was beyond saving? Instead of dying in a duel with his rival, Valmont sacrifices himself to save his true love. Is this change, beyond swapping a yellow taxi for rapiers, to make him a more palatable hero for modern audiences? The ambiguity is frustrating, no matter the century.

Now, the debate following the denouement is an interesting one to have, but the moral is clear and as relevant today as when it was written: premarital sex is bad. That’s it. There’s nothing more. If you think Les Liaisons dangereuses is some kind of warning shot to the upper class that their corruption will lead to their downfall, I can’t imagine where you got an idea like that. Surely, any commentary on the hubris of the elite, as they move those they deem below themselves like pawns around the chess boards of their boudoirs, has nothing to do with the world today. And frankly, I don’t understand how you could even make a connection between 1780s France and 2020s America. I just think it’s neat that there’s a book Benjamin Franklin and Reese Witherspoon have both read.

Here’s a preview of our upcoming calendar, in case you’d like to read along—

February 10 - Lady Chatterley’s Lover (streaming on Netflix)

March 10 - Frozen 2 and Inside Out 2 (streaming on Disney+)

March 17 - Paddington in Peru (coming to theatres February 14)

March 24 - Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (coming to theatres March 21)