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Desire and the dangers of indiscretion. Successful businesswoman Zoe Reynard seems to have whatever she needs in life: a dream husband, two wonderful children and a flourishing career. But she risks them when she enters into an affair with a talented painter and slowly loses control of her life.
Watching "Addicted" is like eating Cheese Whiz straight from the jar. There's no nutritional value. It's kind of embarrassing. But it does satisfy a base craving for cheap, immediate sensation.
If one squints hard enough, all the nudity and grinding might retain appeal, but for those who can't switch their brain off, the picture is maddeningly inconsistent and comically performed.
Billed as an erotic thriller but playing more like an R-rated daytime soap, "Addicted" marks a rare but dramatically neutered opportunity to explore a black woman's sexuality onscreen.
While the leads are certainly attractive enough to bring the book to life, the film fails to live up to the melodrama and seductiveness that made the book popular.
The film unfortunately depicts black female sexuality, a topic rarely portrayed onscreen, with all the depth and subtlety of a late night Cinemax offering.
"Addicted" doesn't know whether it wants to be a modern-day bodice-ripper, a morality-tinged cautionary tale or a serious snapshot of sexual compulsion. Whatever the case, it fails on all fronts.
"Addicted" doesn't fail because it wants to provide steamy, soapy melodrama to a mainstream audience; its faults are a function of its judgment, not of its genre ... more Cinemax than cinematic.