From Cannes ...

After seeing the film at an early morning press screening, most of my contemporaries in the press pool had the same question I did. How on earth did Egoyan think he was ever going to get this film released in the United States? Not that it's bad. It's actually quite entertaining. Egoyan had created a sexy mystery with outstanding production value, wonderful music and above average cinematography. The only issue was all the naked bodies . . . and not just the dead one.

Where the Truth Lies, based on Rupert Holmes' acclaimed novel of the same name, stars Kevin Bacon and Colin Firth as Lanny Morris and Vince Collins, the country's hottest entertainment duo. Lanny and Vince are knee deep in all the wealth and power that comes with such fame. That is, until a beautiful girl turns up naked and dead in the pair's hotel suite after a night of wild partying. Years later, an intrepid reporter sets out to discover what happened that night, only to be lured into the seductive games of these men.

In the seventies, I had three unrelated lunches with three different men, each of whom might have done A Terrible Thing. The nature of their varying “things” ranged from obscene to unspeakable to unutterable, and you will surely understand if, as a writer, I was rather hoping that each had. (Done their particular Terrible Thing.)

In the case of my lunch with the first man, I knew by the time he rested his gold Carte Blanche card upon the meal’s sizable check that my hopes were abundantly justified.

In the case of the second lunch, even while a busboy filled our water tumblers, I realized that my dining companion was as innocent (and inevitably tedious) as a playful pup. But neither of these men need concern us here.