The Times review was really good. That was the first one I saw. It said:
In an otherwise dull holiday season, “Domestic Arrangements” comes along just in time to provide a sprightly, witty two hours of entertainment. Like “A Little Romance” and “Rich Kids,” it focuses alternately on the lives of a pair of unusually bright upper-middle-class teenagers and their somewhat confused elders. By the time the movie is over, we have come to respect and like Samantha and Warren, who manage to preserve their own sexual relationship and friendship while their parents and step-parents merge and unmerge. What sets “Domestic Arrangements” apart from the recent films of this type is the unusual frankness of the scenes between the young protagonists. Director Charles O’Hara, known previously for his documentary “After the Cuckoo’s Nest,” a profile of former mental patients, has focused with insight and skill on newcomers Tatiana Engelberg and Felix Propper. Ms. Engelberg is winsome and engaging as the nymphet who innocently wreaks havoc in her mother’s new marriage. Propper, more subdued, is touching and sensitive as the withdrawn, introspective Warren. What one remembers from “Domestic Arrangements” are the scenes between Samantha and Warren—playing chess after making love, quietly watching their parents go at each other before a large statusy cocktail party, horsing around on the same beach where their two parents have been trysting for the past decade. Would that the screenwriter, Joclyn Weber, had done equal justice to the lines she has placed in the mouths of the benighted adults. Serena Jowitt, looking startlingly like a young Maria Tallchief, snarls and lashes her way through a part which seems inadequately explained. As her temporary mate, Winston Lane gives the impression of sleepwalking through his part. His only moments of real life come in his brief scenes with the enchanting Ms. Engelberg, who gets through her first nude scene with a maximum of poise and grace. The pacing of “Domestic Arrangements” is uneven. The early scenes have a vitality and humor, which gradually erodes once the parents’ new marriage is on the rocks. A saving grace is the camera work of veteran Sven Lundquist. Long shots of the young couple sprawled together in and out of bed seem like scenes from a Balthus painting, evoking a gentle sensuality which contrasts effectively with the rasping relationship of the older couple.
“Domestic Arrangements” has an R rating, due to a few partially nude scenes in which Ms. Engelberg can be glimpsed through masses of long red hair. The language is discreet with the exception of two four-letter words.
I remember Charlie talking about the R rating. He was afraid that if a movie about kids had an R rating, no kids could go to see it. On the other hand, he wanted to do something different, more realistic. It was kind of strange seeing my name in print, right there in the paper. This might sound odd to say, but it suddenly made the whole thing seem real. I guess up till now, it was like the movie was just something I did for fun, but I didn’t so much think of it as something people would see and react to, not just people I know, but people I’d never even meet.
“Charlie must be delighted,” Mom said. “Are you, hon? I think that’s terrific. ‘Enchanting,’ ‘winsome.’”
“They don’t say anything about her acting,” Deel pointed out. We were all having breakfast together.
“What do you mean?” Mom said. “Enchanting and winsome are about her acting.”
“I guess,” Deel said.
“Look, first they didn’t say anything bad,” Mom said, “which they could’ve. They even liked the nude scene.”
“I wish people wouldn’t keep talking about that,” I said. “It’s like three minutes of the whole picture, and you hardly even see me.”
“I could see you,” Deel said.
“That’s our society,” Mom said. “They make a big deal out of nudity, when in France, women don’t wear tops on the beaches and no one notices or cares.”
Daddy called from Boston and said he’d seen the Times review and was really pleased. “How about the Voice?” he asked.
“It hasn’t come out yet,” Mom said. “Sweetie, you can’t imagine! The phone has been ringing nonstop since nine this morning. I feel like just yanking it out of the wall! Everybody we’ve ever known has come creeping out of the woodwork.”
“Take it off the hook,” Daddy said. “Still, it’s exciting.”
“How’s your project going, Daddy?” I asked.
“Pretty good. We may get done a day or two earlier. I think I might be back Tuesday. Can you hold the fort till then?”
“Oh sure,” Mom said. “We’re fine.”
After we’d hung up, I went over to her. “Mom?”
“Umm?” She looked distracted.
“Could Joshua, like, stay over tonight? I mean the whole night? Because it’s Christmas vacation and, well, Daddy’s not here, and . . .”
Mom looked thoughtful. “Till when?” she said.
I hadn’t thought beyond just one night. “You mean, he could stay more than one night?”
“Look, hon, frankly I don’t care if he stays every night. The whole curfew thing seems silly to me on nonschool nights . . . but we don’t want to give Lionel a heart attack.”
“I know.”
“So, why don’t you just do whatever you want, but we won’t mention it to him when he gets back. Does that sound okay?”
“Sure.” I couldn’t believe it. When I told Joshua, he couldn’t either. First of all, it will really give us a chance to try out the diaphragm. I finally got it last week, and I think I understand about how to put it in. It’s so ugly, though, and such a funny idea. I think when I’m older I’ll go on the pill. But also it’ll be nice having Joshua stay over not just for sex, but so we don’t have to worry about falling asleep and him having to get up in the middle of the night when it’s cold and windy, and go looking for a cab on Riverside. That’s quite dangerous, really.
Some of my friends from school called, having seen the review of the movie in the Times. Mom went out and got the Post and the News, too. The Post didn’t like it half so much. They said the pacing was “turgid” and said I acted like I was “in a trance.” Actually, that’s what Charlie wanted me to do. He said Samantha was a very dreamy person and I should look like I was thinking private, mysterious thoughts all the time. I didn’t know how to do that exactly, so I would just stare straight ahead, and he’d say, “Great, I love it.” The News gave it three stars. They called it a “sparkling farce with a myriad of witty, delightful scenes.” It’s odd how they thought Serena Jowitt was great, the best in the movie. They didn’t like Felix that much. They said he “hardly seemed a fitting companion or lover for the dazzlingly lovely Ms. Engelberg.” I hope he doesn’t mind that.
I decided to clean up my room, partly in honor of the movie, but mostly in honor of Joshua sleeping over. I weeded through all my papers from last year and threw out about four waste-basketfuls of stuff. I went through my clothes and found three blouses and two pairs of jeans that I never wear. I gave them to Mom; she gives stuff that I don’t like anymore to this family called the Spears who have six daughters and not that much money. They’re always writing thank-you notes to me. Then I cleared absolutely everything off my desk, every single thing. I like completely clean surfaces, but it’s hard when you have to keep doing papers for school. While I was sorting through stuff, I found the photos Joshua took of me naked last spring. God, I’d forgotten all about that. That was how we . . . well, not met exactly, but how we knew we liked each other.
What happened was one afternoon Joshua came over, thinking Deel would be there. They were in the orchestra together—he plays the clarinet, and she plays the violin. Only she wasn’t. I was there. I’d just washed my hair. Thinking it would be Deel or Mom, I answered the door just in my Japanese kimono, with my hair up in a turban. Joshua looked a little embarrassed when he saw me, but then he came in and sat in the living room while I dried my hair. At one point he asked if I’d mind if he took some photos of me drying my hair. He said he was doing a series for some project for this photography class he was taking at night. He said he had some new kind of color film he wanted to try out. I don’t mind when people take my photo, so I just kept on drying my hair and he kept kind of circling around me, taking photos. Eventually, my hair got dry, so we went into the kitchen and had some cocoa. Then we went into my room and started to talk. I still had my kimono on, and while we were talking, I noticed Joshua kept looking at me in this sort of funny, intense way. I did this really bold thing; it’s hard to imagine I even did it. I said, “I guess I better get dressed,” and I went over to my closet and took my robe off and stood there with my back to him without anything on except my underpants, which I’d had on under my robe. Then I put on a shirt and a pair of jeans. When I turned around, Joshua was still sitting there with his camera, kind of staring at me with this totally glazed expression. Finally he said, “Rusty, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, but I wondered if vou’d mind if I took some photos of you just . . . naked. I have, like, three or four shots left on this roll.”
“Okay,” I said. It was weird. I mean, I’d never acted like that with a boy before. I just took my clothes off and lay down on the bed and he took three or four photos of me. It only took a second. Then I put my clothes back on again and we just sat there looking at each other. Nothing happened that day at all except I think we both knew we liked each other. While he was waiting for the elevator, Joshua just stood at the door and finally blurted out, “You’re beautiful,” and dashed into the elevator. I guess he’s shy with girls. That’s what he says. He doesn’t seem shy to me anymore, but maybe that’s because we know each other.
When he came over later in the afternoon, I showed him the photos.
He looked at them. “Hey, I could sell these to Playboy now,” he said.
“Joshua!”
“They’re not bad, actually.”
“I thought they were art photos.”
“They are.” He hugged me. “So, star, how’s it going?”
“Joshua, please . . . I’m not a star.”
“You’re twinkling.”
“I’m not . . . Don’t make fun of me.”
He put his arm around me. “I’m not, Rust . . . I feel proud of you.”
“Do you? I thought you thought the Times critic was dumb.”
“Well . . . Look, they only have a column or two. It’s not exactly in-depth film criticism.”
“The Post thought I acted like I was in a trance.”
“Well, you do have a kind of trancy look at times.”
I looked at him. I knew he was teasing. “Wasn’t that nice of Mom? Saying you could stay as late as you want?”
“Wonderful . . . Your mother’s a great person. I wish my mother was like her.”
“She said you could stay every night till Daddy comes home . . . only I’m not supposed to tell him.”
“How about Deel?”
“Yeah, I thought of that . . . She’s sleeping at a friend’s tonight, though, so we don’t have to worry.”
We had a really nice, relaxed evening. Mom went out and we just heated up some pizza and watched TV for a while. We don’t have any special room for the TV like Joshua’s parents. It’s just in the living room, but since no one was home, it was kind of private. Then we went into my room. Joshua helped me put the diaphragm in. I think we did it right. You have to make sure to use lots of jelly, so even if you didn’t put it in right, the jelly will kill the sperm. They give you a booklet that explains everything. For me it didn’t seem that different, but Joshua said it really was much nicer for him. I guess having something over your penis while you’re fucking is like swimming with your clothes on. Not that I can imagine what that’s like exactly, since I don’t have one (penis, that is). But really, the nicest part of all was just being able to lie together naked without having to worry about waking up. Also, having the house quiet, with Daddy and Deel away, was good, too. My bedroom is off the kitchen, pretty far away from Mom and Daddy’s, but still Daddy is a very light sleeper and I always feel nervous when he’s there. Mom says cannons could go off when she’s asleep and she wouldn’t hear anything. She has this odd sleep sound machine that she got at Hammacher Schlemmer, which makes a roaring sound. She got it when we were babies and used to get up at five and go screaming around the apartment. Now she says she’s addicted to it.
In the middle of the night we woke up. That is, Joshua woke up and I heard him getting out of bed.
“Where’re you going?” I whispered.
“To the bathroom.”
“Oh.” I hate having to get out of bed in the winter. I never can find my slippers and the floor is always so cold. I snuggled further under the covers. About one second later Joshua came back.
“That was quick,” I said.
“I didn’t go,” he said.
“How come?”
Joshua didn’t say anything.
“How come you didn’t go?” I said.
“Rust.”
“Yeah?” He was acting really strange.
“You know that tall skinny guy with the mustache?”
“Simon?”
“Yeah . . . Well he was walking down the hall to the bathroom.”
“So?”
“Well, he was, like, naked.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Rust. He was.”
“What are you sorry about?”
I thought a second. “Why was he naked?”
“Search me. I guess he was doing something he didn’t need clothes for.”
“What?”
“Well, maybe he and your mother . . .”
“Mom and Simon?”
“It could be. It certainly looks like it.”
“Mom and Simon?” “Why not? They’re friends, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, but . . . not in that way. Do you really think—”
“Look, Rust, I mean he may have just taken off his clothes because he felt hot for some reason.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.”
By this time I was wide awake. “Poor Daddy,” I said.
“Oh, poor Daddy’s probably making it with some chick in Boston right this second,” Joshua said, getting under the covers.
I sat right up. “Joshua, what a horrible thing to say! Daddy? He’s not like that. He’s not like your father.”
“They all do it.”
“They do not! Just because your father does seedy things with secretaries doesn’t mean everyone’s father does! Daddy thinks sex is a thrilling, important, meaningful experience.”
“So?”
“So, he wouldn’t do it with just anyone. He’d only do it with someone he really loved.”
Joshua sighed. “Listen, you might be right, Rust, I don’t know . . . How about your mother? Is it a thrilling, important, meaningful experience for her too?”
“Will you quit making fun of my parents?”
“I’m not. I like your mother.”
I thought about it a minute. “Maybe she’s in love with Simon.”
Joshua didn’t say anything.
“I guess she must be.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, she really loves Daddy, so if she did it with someone else, it would mean she loved that person more . . . for some reason.”
“Maybe she’s just horny.”
“Joshua! She’s thirty-nine years old.”
“Don’t thirty-nine-year-olds get horny?”
“No, not in that way. Anyway Daddy’s only been away two days. Oh, I hope they don’t get divorced.”
Joshua held me close. “They won’t, Rust, don’t worry.”
“But if she loves Simon a lot, more than she loves Daddy . . .”
“You don’t know that . . . Anyway, usually they like to stay together because of the kids.”
“Yeah . . . Only I’d hate to think that was the only reason.” I couldn’t think which I wanted to be true. I’d hate to think Mom was fucking with Simon for some dumb, silly reason, but on the other hand, I hope she isn’t in love with him the way I’m in love with Joshua. I don’t think people that age fall in love. I think it’s more that they’re more compatible with one person than with another.
“Do you want to try again?” I said.
“Sure,” Joshua said. His hand was between my legs.
“No. I meant go to the bathroom. Maybe Simon’s back in the other room now.”
“Later,” Joshua murmured, parting the hair. I guess he wanted to see if I was wet.
“Josh?”
“Umm.”
“I don’t know if you can use it twice without taking it out and cleaning it.”
“If you take it out, that does away with the whole point,” he said.
“Is it safe?”
“Sure.”
“Did the booklet say that? Are you positive?”
Joshua was already in me. “Positive,” he crooned. I could tell he wasn’t even thinking about the booklet.
He better not be lying.