The Sex Gourmet – The Postman Always Rings Twice (1981)

#8 Jack Nicholson & Jessica Lange

Lana Turner described this remake of James M. Cain’s novel (1931) as ‘pornographic trash‘. Having portrayed the alluring Cora Smith already in Tay Garnett’s 1946 remake of the same novel, she seemed qualified to say this, despite not seeing the remake in completion herself. The novel is steamy and fierce. Sexually explicit and violent for the 30s it was banned in Boston, just a little too naughty for the times.

The 1981 remake by Bob Rafelson (the fourth so far) is a heated tale of two people chemically bonded to one another. Overall, it is hard to see it as a tale of love. Rather, it is predominantly a story of lust and greed. Cora Smith (Lange) and Frank Chambers (Nicholson) are not nice people. This is depression-era America. There is no need for nice, but there is a need for physical connection and freedom from their situations.

Cora is tied to her much older, boorish, Greek husband Nick Papadakis (John Colicos), she is worlds apart from him sexually. Frank is a drifter and a cad, while tied down to nothing, he navigates through life alone with no counterpart to love. When they meet for the first time in Nick and Cora’s diner, Cora is rude and offhand with him, Frank can’t take his eyes off her. It’s not hard to see why.

Jessica Lange in my estimation is a tower of femininity in cinema. She is a true sexual being on screen and even before we watch her and Nicholson demolish each other in the infamous kitchen scene about to be described, she is already radiating. Her diamond shaped mouth parted, looking like she is in heat throughout the film. Her golden curls framing her face, and her body, that seems permanently corseted, she is an erotic time bomb about to go off.

Jack Nicholson is always the perfect form of masculinity and mischievousness. From my introduction to him as RP McMurphy, with the cigarette pack tucked above his bicep in ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoos’ Nest’, and his remarkably honest performance in ‘Five Easy Pieces’ (also directed by Bob Rafelson) I have been in lust. His inquisitive owlish eyebrows and, oh! that mouth, there is no coupling feverishly intense as Lange and Nicholson playing Cora Smith and Frank Chambers. Regardless of opinion on the film as whole, their sexual pageant is realistic and erotic.

The initial sex scene is introduced after Cora and Frank are finally alone together in the diner. Upon realising the door to the diner is locked and Nick will not return for some time, there are minutes of breathlessness and silence, both lovers looking at each other with trepidation. This turns into a violent assault. Frank suddenly lunges at Cora, grappling her and attempting to kiss her with furious animalistic intent.

She cries out and battles against his force, slapping and scratching to push him away from her. Both their flesh coloured clothing is pressed together and pulled apart as they brutally fight each other, looking like intercourse before it even begins. They crash through to the kitchen where this sexual assault turns into a consenting, passionate tryst.

Frank forcibly pushes Cora against the pantry, and while she still looks like his advances are not welcomed, she begins to relent as he navigates down her thrashing body, she holds his head where she needs. The focus is completely on Cora’s face as he pleasures her.  In fact, throughout this whole fiery display, we rarely see Franks face or his reaction to their lovemaking.

The heated couple find their way to the table, Cora pushes the bread dough, knife and other items to floor, hands and face covered in flour, she breathlessly invites Frank to “come on, come on” It is a moment of lustful abandon as he mounts her heaving body on the table. Running his hands up her stockings, the most explicit shot is of Frank gratifying her with his hand over her underwear, only for Cora to show him what she wants him to do, the camera focusing on her instruction and his hand following her direction. It is a textured and realistic exhibit.

This may be Lana Turners point of no return, calling this adaptation pornographic, and perhaps it is. Certainly, it is explicit, but with very little nudity on display, it is deliciously sinful to see this arousal over clothes and it momentarily describes the nature of their car crash relationship, a build-up of sexual need without ever getting what they really want.

The scene continues with Cora now straddling Frank on the table as he grasps her. As she manoeuvres her body in time with each of Franks’ thrusts, her pretty mouth is open with desire, and hair wild about her face. They crash together in a final and loving moment. We finally see Franks face as they tenderly kiss each other, while barely touching each other’s lips. A slow, rounded, sensual experience, it is beautifully in contrast to the violence that brought them together, and for the first time in this sex scene, we just about witness love as opposed to unrefined lust.

Like Roeg’s ‘Don’t Look Now’ (read its Sex Gourmet episode here) there was some debate about whether sex took place between Lange & Nicholson for this scene. A closed set with just director (Bob Rafelson), Lange, Nicholson and cinematographer (Sven Nykvist) in place, not to mention Nicholson’s admitted sexual interest in his co-star Lange, it could have been possible. However, there is no real need for it to be a case of did they?, it looks real, it feels real, and in the few follow-up sex scenes, much shorter in duration, it looks legitimate throughout.

This is a true example of where nudity is not needed to excite. The chemistry and obvious attraction of both actors are present in the simplicity of the raw, charged glances they exchange, and the movement of both their bodies as they showcase satisfying and urgent penetration without really showing anything overtly gratuitous. The razor-sharp sexuality of Nicholson and Lange makes this scene genuine and titillating.

08/10 – Despite the self-raising talents of both actors and ingredients on show here, no bread was baked that day. Shameful waste.

by Claire Fagan