Experience the Absurdity of Erotic Thrillers With Sliver (1993) This Valentine’s Day

Guest post alert! Today’s issue comes from Kristin Dober, a filmmaking comrade of mine who can do just about anything—write, direct, produce, assistant direct—and make it look easy. This is Kristin’s second guest piece after she wrote brilliantly about how the Coen Brothers put themselves on the map with Blood Simple, and she’s back with more brilliant words about her new friend Billy Baldwin. (No really, keep reading.) And wouldn’t you know it, it’s the perfect thing for Valentine’s Day (sort of). It also happens to be the second spring in a row that we’ve featured a feminine perspective on a classic erotic thriller. Really makes you think. Anyway, if you happen to be in Florence, Alabama, in two weeks, come see her film Banned at the George Lindsey UNA Film Festival! Take it away, Kristin!

Some might say the emotions of love and hate are very close to each other. Perhaps that’s where Sharon Stone and Billy Baldwin drew their motivations from in Sliver, the second erotic thriller penned by screenwriter Joe Eszterhas in a two-year span after Basic Instinct became a box office hit in 1992.

Sliver tells the story of Carly Norris (Stone), a book editor who moves into a high-rise building in New York City for a fresh start after a divorce. From there, she’s pursued by nearly every man in her immediate radius, including the young building owner named Zeke (Baldwin) and a desperate, has-been author named Jack (Tom Berenger). Baldwin and Berenger embody very different male character tropes, and despite Eszterhas’ best attempt at making them feel polarizing, there’s a creepy vibe to every relationship in this film.

The voyeuristic cinematography sometimes crosses into horror territory, carrying a prevailing undertone of imminent death and malintent. So it’s difficult to know who to trust in this film. Stone manages to give a solid performance as a vulnerable, undersexed career woman.* And after a few “love bombs”—including several dozen arrangements of roses and a telescope left in her apartment from her “secret admirer”—she ends up involved with Baldwin. Their chemistry runs hot and cold throughout the film, but the most convincing moment involves Stone covertly (or maybe not so covertly) stripping in the middle of a nice restaurant while Baldwin provokes her with his best blue steel expression.**

In reality, Baldwin and Stone hated each other. Baldwin didn’t even want to do the film’s climactic love scene. He brought his concerns to director Phillip Noyce and eventually agreed to do the scene but with the stipulation that he wouldn’t have to kiss her. Noyce asked Baldwin how he planned on doing a love scene without kissing his costar—to which Baldwin responded by shoving the director into a column. This meeting heavily influenced the blocking of the final love scene in the film.***

Perhaps some of the ill repute between the two leads began with a despicable suggestion from producer Robert Evans, who pressured Stone to actually sleep with Baldwin before production started so that they would have on-screen chemistry. Stone still took the gig, but under one condition: that Evans wasn’t allowed within 100 yards of the set. Can’t say I blame her.

Tension among the cast was hardly the only issue during the production of this film. While capturing visual effects plates over a Hawaiian volcano that were supposed to be part of the original ending, the crew’s helicopter crashed.**** This original version of the film ends with Baldwin lowering a helicopter into the volcano as he and Stone both laugh together, and the audience is supposed to wonder if they survive. That ending performed horribly with test audiences, which led to Eszterhas writing five new endings in just three days.

The MPAA also demanded a massive amount of cuts in order to get the film from NC-17 down to an R rating, resulting in lots of reshoots and several edits that didn’t do the story any favors. Besides the extremely abrupt ending in the theatrical version, there are a few noticeably odd lines of dialogue— including a conversation between Baldwin and Stone where he claims to have always dreamed of “flying into a volcano.” That line would have maybe made sense if they’d kept the original ending, but without context it feels awkward and forced. Even with context, it’s pretty distasteful considering a few people nearly died.

Sliver could have raised some interesting questions about consent and moral obligations around speaking up when you witness something illegal, immoral, or uncouth. Instead, it falls short as a film of substance.***** But the film is hardly unwatchable. In fact, if you go in prepared to experience all the tropes of the 90s erotic thriller, it’s entertaining if a little absurd. Which means it’s a perfect watch for Valentine’s Day.

*Stone’s portrayal was probably more convincing to anyone who somehow didn’t see Basic Instinct a year prior and therefore wasn’t expecting a similarly powerful sex symbol of a character. Karina Longworth explores this more in her podcast You Must Remember This, which is a must listen for anyone interested in lesser-known Hollywood stories from the early- to mid-twentieth century.

**Zoolander came out in 2001, well after this film, so maybe it was actually Baldwin that inspired Ben Stiller’s iconic “male model” face. After all, Baldwin started his career as a model.

***I met Baldwin at a film festival in New York last year where he told this story, which naturally prompted me to rewatch this film. For the record, he’s really chill and great to chat with.

****The crew fortunately survived the crash, and their story was documented in the sixth episode of the second season of I Shouldn't Be Alive.

*****The best thing about Sliver might be the soundtrack, which includes bangers from Enigma, The Verve, and Massive Attack.

Sliver is now streaming on Paramount+ and Showtime, and it is available to rent elsewhere.