“Reversal of Fortune” chronicles a codependent’s fight for freedom. But it required an addict.
Review: “Reversal of Fortune”
“Reversal of Fortune” is billed as the true story of the appeal of Claus von Bulow’s conviction for murdering his rich, socialite wife, Sunny von Bulow. This is as accurate as saying that Al Pacino’s portrayal of Lt. Col. Frank Slade in “Scent of a Woman” was a story about a blind man. Just as “Scent” was a story about an addict (and the greatest portrayal ever of one on the big screen), so is “Reversal,” particularly if we understand that the events would likely never have occurred without Sunny’s addiction.
Many reviewers suggest that Sunny was selfish, yet vulnerable. More accurately, she was an addict and, therefore, selfish. Self-centeredness, along with a belief that one is above everyone and everything else, is a manifestation of addiction.
The movie portrays a codependent Claus (Jeremy Irons) and an addicted Sunny (Glenn Close), who either took or was given a dose of insulin that resulted in blood levels 14 times higher than normal, a level at which death often occurs but which instead put her in a coma for the rest of her life. Claus, accused of attempted murder, was represented by Alan Dershowitz (Ron Silver), who wrote the book on which the movie was based.
Dershowitz, in planning the defense, said the “older children will deny that Sunny had a problem with drugs or alcohol.” Yet, drugs prescribed for Claus, including Valium, were frequently taken by Sunny. Author Truman Capote, a known addict, taught her how to inject drugs. Locals described Sunny “taking pills, getting drunk and falling down…smearing lipstick all over her face.” She was considered “lovely, until she drank.” Claus said, “Two drinks and she became nasty.” A comatose Sunny, narrating the film, admitted, “It’s true that I took up to 24 laxatives daily, popped aspirin like M and M’s, smoked three packs of cigarettes a day, had a problem with alcohol, took Valium and Seconal frequently and consumed large quantities of sweets despite my medical condition.”
After about a dozen alcohol-laced eggnogs at Christmas (“she never touched alcohol except on social occasions to overcome her shyness”), Sunny asked for a Scotch and soda. Afterward, she and Claus argued over his work (“you need to work because of your ego”) as she continued to drink and pop pills. “Hasn’t my mother given us enough money?” she’d ask of Claus, who responded simply that he wanted a career. “You marry me for my money then demand to work…you are the prince of perversion. Are you trying to destroy our whole family?” At one point we see Sunny in a rage demanding, “Where are they? Did you take them?” “Certainly not,” Claus responds—then quizzically, “Take what?” “My pills, you moron…Valium, Seconal…you took them, didn’t you?” to which Claus responded, “I’ve long since stopped interfering.” Complain…blame…accuse…belittle…twist reality—all marks of an addict.
The codependent response to addiction can conceivably be murder, but there’s no way to know for sure. She may have simply overdosed as might have Marilyn Monroe; she might have been overdosed as Marilyn Monroe might have been. The movie leaves it to the viewer to decide. To those of us with an understanding of addiction, there’s little doubt that because we can never know for sure, an acquittal was the only appropriate outcome.