Roger Avary didn't want to make a movie that people liked. He wanted to make something that felt like a punch to the gut. If you’ve ever actually sat through The Rules of Attraction film, you know he succeeded. It’s mean. It’s fast. It’s visually exhausting. Released in 2002, the movie arrived at a weird time when teen comedies were all about losing your virginity at prom or baked goods. This was different. It took the shiny, MTV-era aesthetic and used it to document the absolute moral decay of wealthy liberal arts students. Honestly, it’s a miracle it even got made.
Based on the 1987 novel by Bret Easton Ellis, the story is a non-linear mess of unrequited love—or rather, unrequited lust. You’ve got Sean Bateman (James Van Der Beek), Paul Denton (Ian Somerhalder), and Lauren Hynde (Shannyn Sossamon). They are trapped in a cycle of "End of the World" parties, heavy drug use, and a total inability to connect with another human being. It’s cynical. It’s also incredibly well-crafted.
The Chaos of Camden College
The movie takes place at Camden College, a fictional stand-in for Bennington College where Ellis actually went. It's a place where class doesn't seem to happen, but partying is a full-time job. Avary uses a split-screen technique that remains one of the most famous parts of the film. We see Lauren and Sean walking toward each other from opposite sides of the campus. The cameras eventually merge into a single shot when they meet. It’s a technical marvel, but it serves a point: these people are in their own worlds until they collide. And when they collide, it usually hurts.
Most people recognize James Van Der Beek from Dawson's Creek. In 2002, he was the ultimate "nice guy" of television. Casting him as Sean Bateman—the younger brother of American Psycho's Patrick Bateman—was a stroke of genius. He’s predatory, vulnerable, and deeply unlikable all at once. He’s a drug dealer who thinks he’s a romantic. He gets these anonymous purple love letters and breathes life into a fantasy that doesn't exist. It’s pathetic. It's also deeply human.
We often talk about "relatable" characters in movies. None of these people are relatable in the traditional sense. They are selfish. They are often cruel. But the feeling of being twenty years old, high on something you shouldn't have taken, and desperately wanting someone who doesn't even know you exist? That’s universal. Avary captures that "rules of attraction" vibe better than almost any other director of that era.
The Infamous Victor Sequence
If you ask anyone about The Rules of Attraction film, they’ll mention Victor’s trip to Europe. Kip Pardue plays Victor, a guy who goes on a drug-fueled bender across the continent. Instead of a traditional travel montage, Avary shoots it in a frenetic, fast-forward style. It’s four minutes of pure adrenaline. It’s also entirely silent except for Victor’s narration and a pulsing beat.
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It cost a fortune to film because they actually sent Pardue to Europe with a small crew to just... film chaos. No permits. Just running and gunning. It feels real because, in a way, it was. It captures that blurred memory of a vacation where you saw everything but remember nothing. It’s the peak of the movie's "style as substance" philosophy.
Why Critics Hated It (And Why They Were Wrong)
When the film dropped, critics were baffled. The New York Times called it "vapid." Others found the nihilism too much to handle. They missed the point. The movie isn't celebrating this lifestyle; it’s a satire of it. It’s a horror movie disguised as a college romp.
The Patrick Bateman Connection
There is a deleted scene—well, more of a lost legend—where Casper Van Dien was supposed to play Patrick Bateman, Sean's older brother. It was filmed but never made the final cut due to rights issues and tonal shifts. Even without the physical presence of Patrick, his shadow looms large. Sean is clearly trying to emulate a certain type of masculinity that he doesn't quite understand. He’s a "beta" version of his brother, which makes his failures even more cringing to watch.
The film deals with heavy themes:
- Disconnection: Everyone is talking, but no one is listening.
- Identity: Students reinventing themselves through clothes and drugs.
- The Lie of Romance: The realization that "the one" is often just whoever is standing in front of you at 3 AM.
There’s a suicide scene in the film that is notoriously difficult to watch. Set to Harry Nilsson’s "Without You," it’s a masterclass in uncomfortable filmmaking. It’s the moment the "party" stops being funny. Most college movies shy away from the actual consequences of isolation. This one leans in. It forces you to look at the girl in the bathtub while everyone else is downstairs dancing to "Afternoon Delight."
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Technical Mastery and the Avary Touch
Roger Avary was the co-writer of Pulp Fiction. You can see that Tarantino-adjacent DNA in the dialogue and the structure. But Avary has a more European sensibility. He uses reverse-motion, color saturation, and jarring cuts to keep the audience off-balance. He doesn't want you to get comfortable.
The soundtrack is a character in itself. You've got The Cure, Yazoo, and Moby. It’s a mix of 80s nostalgia and early 2000s electronica. It perfectly mirrors the characters' own confusion about what era they belong to. They dress like they’re in 1985 but live in 2002. They are out of time.
The "No One Listens" Motif
One of the most brilliant aspects of the script is how dialogue is handled. Characters frequently have entire conversations where they are responding to things the other person didn't say. Or they simply talk over each other. In one scene, Paul Denton is pouring his heart out to his mother, and she is literally just focused on her food. It’s heartbreaking. It’s also a perfect metaphor for the entire Rules of Attraction film experience.
You’ve probably been in a conversation like that. You’re saying something important, and the other person is just waiting for their turn to speak. Or they’re looking at their phone. In 2002, the phone was a landline or a chunky Nokia, but the behavior was the same.
Re-evaluating the Legacy in 2026
Looking back, the movie feels prophetic. We live in a world of curated identities and "main character syndrome." Sean, Lauren, and Paul were the pioneers of that. They were obsessed with their own narratives to the point of delusion.
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Is it a "good" movie? That’s the wrong question. It’s an effective movie. It evokes a specific feeling of dread and excitement that few films manage. It’s the "anti-John Hughes." If Hughes showed us the dream of high school, Avary shows us the hangover of college.
Directing the Visual Language
The cinematography by Robert Brinkmann is gorgeous. Even when the subject matter is ugly, the frames are composed with obsessive detail. The use of "shaky cam" is minimal; instead, we get sweeping, confident movements that make the chaos feel intentional. It’s a highly controlled version of a breakdown.
- The Reverse Sequence: The opening of the film, showing the party in reverse, sets the tone. We see the end before the beginning. We know where this is going: nowhere.
- The Color Palette: Each main character has a subtle color association. Sean is often surrounded by blues and cold tones. Paul is warmer, more vibrant, yet equally lost.
- The Editing: The "Rewind" moments where we see the same event from three different perspectives. It reminds us that there is no objective truth in this story. There are only versions of the truth.
What You Should Do Next
If you haven’t seen the film in years, or if you’ve never seen it, it’s time for a rewatch. But don't go in expecting a lighthearted comedy.
How to watch it properly:
- Watch the "Victor" sequence twice. The first time, just take in the visuals. The second time, listen to what he’s actually saying. He’s miserable despite the "adventure."
- Pay attention to the background. The "End of the World" party is filled with sight gags and background characters who are having their own mini-tragedies.
- Compare it to the book. Bret Easton Ellis is notoriously hard to adapt. American Psycho succeeded by making it a dark comedy. The Rules of Attraction succeeds by making it a fever dream.
- Research the "Glitter" story. There’s a famous anecdote about how much fake snow and glitter was used on set, creating a literal nightmare for the cleanup crew and the actors' lungs. It adds to the "artificial" feel of their lives.
Actionable Insights for Cinephiles:
Study the split-screen sequence if you are a filmmaker. It wasn't done in post-production; they had to coordinate the actors' movements with incredible precision to make the "merge" work. It’s a lesson in choreography. For the casual viewer, notice how the film uses sound to transition between scenes. The "whoosh" of the camera moving through walls isn't just a gimmick; it’s the sound of the narrative forcing its way into these private, ugly moments.
This movie remains a polarizing piece of cinema. It doesn't care if you like it. It doesn't care if you find the characters "problematic." It’s an honest, albeit exaggerated, look at a very specific type of privilege and the emptiness that comes with it. The rules of attraction aren't about love; they’re about gravity. Everyone is just falling toward each other until they hit the ground.