The movie that placed Steven Soderbergh under the most pressure: “I was aware of the stakes”
When looking at Sex, Lies, and Videotape in comparison to the rest of Steven Soderbergh’s filmography, it’s a difficult film to place and understand. Did this really come from the same director who created Magic Mike and Ocean’s Eleven? But alas, it is. And while the film still stands out and remains an enigma within his body of work, the very existence and reception towards the film speaks volumes to the filmmaking landscape and state of creativity at the time, something that Soderbergh himself was acutely aware of, making the stakes of the film extremely high.
The plot Sex, Lies, and Videotape follows a deeply unhappy married couple, John and Ann. John is having a very charged affair with Ann’s sister, while Ann is starting a strange friendship with John’s college friend, Graham. It’s through this messy intersection of relationships that Soderbergh reflects on the exploitative and contradictory nature of sex and love entirely, posing the question of whether we are ever truly authentic and honest with the people we choose to be with, what is it that allows us to express our true selves, and more importantly, what does this say about who we are?
Soderbergh explores the intersection between physical and emotional intimacy in a way that feels extremely confrontational, drawing similarities between ourselves and each of the four characters, forcing us to look inward and explore the lies within our own relationships. The film shows all relationships to be hollow and unfulfilling, a long and sweaty mind game about the intimacy of conversation versus sex and how we’ll always be left without one or the other.
The film marked Soderbergh’s directorial debut, which, given its subject matter, is undoubtedly impressive. It dives headfirst into the murky and taboo depths of interpersonal politics and exposes a side that exists within all of us.
Soderbergh adopted a “fake it till you make it” attitude, and when discussing the making of the film, he said, “That was really the time that I felt under the most pressure, making that film. I was aware of the stakes. I was very aware that if I screwed this up, I was really going to be in trouble. I had to do a Jedi mind trick on myself and show up on set and treat it creatively as though it was Schizopolis, and I could do whatever I wanted.”
It’s remarkable that Soderbergh was able to distance himself from the scrutiny surrounding how the film might be misunderstood or misinterpreted, allowing him to create something so deeply personal and revealing. Among all the characters in the film, it is Soderbergh himself who is truly on display, exposing an uncomfortable thought many of us would rather keep hidden. He managed to articulate and share this thought so skillfully with audiences around the world.
While the film is tonally quite different from the rest of his work, many of Soderbergh’s movies also delve into the contradiction between what we think we want and what we truly desire, and how this intertwines with our social status and the need to control how others perceive us. Even in a film like Magic Mike, which is more stylised and campy compared to the stripped-back, naturalistic style of Sex, Lies, and Videotape, Mike’s internal conflict mirrors this theme. It explores the notion of two selves—one hidden and aligned with our true desires, and the other more public, often denying our authentic self.
It’s understandable why Soderbergh felt such an intense level of pressure to convey these ideas within his directorial debut. Still, it’s safe that he succeeded, and I cannot imagine anything more subversive and relevant than a movie about sex where no one actually has sex. Instead, the heat and tension arise as they talk around the idea of it, much like real life.
