A financial executive, John (Rourke), and an art gallery assistant, Elizabeth (Basinger), try to fill up their empty existences with a crash course in sex with an utter stranger. This leads, as you might expect, to sex every which way they can, but, as they discover, is perhaps not the basis for a long-term relationship.
Kim Basinger and Mickey Rourke have sex in every single room of his matt black Ideal Home. Rude underwear, imaginative use of the contents of a fridge, the hands-on approach to bed-buying, a Joe Cocker song and just enough plot to make a sophisticated audience not feel too bad about watching their first sex movie.
Basinger smoulders, Rourke cuts it as an unfulfilled suit from Wall Street, but neither of them can do anything about the gaping holes in the film. Their lives and their relationship are devoid of everything except sex, which, though it lifts the movie when it comes, isn’t enough to base this arty-wannabe of a film around. If they wanted to make a porno, why didn’t they?
Erotic at times, certainly, but that's down to the appeal of it's stars and not the minimal clean lines vs. heavenly bodies approach of director Adrian Lyne.