You have cheated on your devoted husband and he knows your ruinous secret. He went to confront your lover and in the meantime found a precious gift that you had left behind: a souvenir snowball of your beloved husband that you carelessly re-gifted to your clandestine lover, proving your infidelity. In his rage he killed his young rival, hid the body and brought the globe back to your quiet suburban home. Sitting in the warm morning sun, you reflect on the night before: the casual dinner, the chatty guests who fill your living room like a can of sardines, and the stout red-haired woman who insists on touching everything in sight, including the big snow sparkling. globe you wouldn't have realized had been returned until that life-changing moment. As the blinding light streams in through the window, you relive the heated argument with your husband that kept you from sleeping last night, filled with harsh acquisitions and his stunning admission to murder. What happens now? How do you continue your everyday life when everything has changed irreversibly? Unfaithful tells the story of Edward and Connie Sumner, a middle-aged couple living in a beautiful, large suburb outside Chicago, who are ultimately torn apart by Connie's betrayal. The scene titled "A Message" shows Edward and Connie the day after the shocking confrontation, engaged in mundane tasks until Connie discovers a painful reminder of all she has lost. Director Adrian Lyne uses artfully subtle camera techniques, understated acting and an everyday setting to tell the story of the morning after, a time of quiet remorse and grief. In the scene, Adrian Lyne uses minimal camera movement, instead choosing camera angle as the medium. to keep track...... middle of paper ...... of the situation in which the couple finds themselves. In the dim light of morning, husband and wife sit in the same modest room, but exist miles apart. Without saying a word, Edward and Connie Sumner exchange more than a few cautious glances; they take stock of what relationship remains when the words end. Director Adrian Lyne uses multiple camera angles and lenses to allow us to see through the eyes of a participant the harrowing scene, witnessing every resigned sigh and teary look. Devoid of dialogue, Lyne fills the scene with visual cues using setting and framing to speak for the actors, filling the room with emotions longing to bubble to the surface. Without these clever techniques, the scene would remain just as it appears: two people, sitting apart from each other, content to continue their menial tasks on a given weekend morning..