ounterprogramming" (Doherty 14; Puig F1) does appear to have paid off in film attendance figures for films that do not necessarily feature bankable stars. Consider the commercial success of Mr. Holland's Opus, grossing $23.1 million, or its original negative cost, by its second week of release (Puig F1). To be sure, Richard Dreyfuss, the star of the film, is not an unknown talent; however, the fact that the film was not considered bankable in the Demi Moore sense demonstrates that as far as profit projections are concerned, the producers of that film are, at least as matters stand in May 1996, more likely to recoup their investment than are the producers of Striptease. In other words, the advantage of not having to pay a bankable star can be realized in a greater return on investment if the film is successful.
What is relevant about the commercial success of Mr. Holland's Opus to the present research is that it is attributed to its ability to reach emotional meaning, irrespective of the performers who are on the screen. The focus in this research is not on commercial success as such but rather on the emotional connection in The Truth About Cats and Dogs--and the emotional disconnect, so to speak, of Denise Calls Up. Where a connection is made, the principal method of achieving it is to present a line of action and a cast of characters that gives the viewer something to care about as the fate of the people involved hangs in suspense. Now because this seems a relatively easy, not to say obvious, argument to make. But The Truth About Cats and Dogs and Denise Calls Up provide a rather crucial test of how such an enterprise can and cannot succeed, most prominently in the telephone-sex scene in each film.
In The Truth About Cats and Dogs, the long-distance "sex" takes place between Brian and Abby during a telephone conversation that lasts several hours through the night. One reviewer balked at this scene as part of a screenplay "rife wi...