This is all about power and he plays the game brilliantly, driving a wedge between the lovebirds as they decide to go for the deal ("It's just my body, it's not my heart, it's not my mind") and then watch their supposedly invincible marriage buckle under the strain. Forget the carping that the hunksome Redford would never, in reality, have to pay for a woman.
Once our billionaire gambler (Redford) comes on to the scene with his "indecent proposal" (one million dollars for a night with Demi), however, things brighten up considerably, with the complex emotions on display being handled with remarkable aplomb. There have been unintentional chuckles courtesy of a silly flashback to school days (Demi's grin revealing a gobful of dental braces, Woody with a rug from hell) there have been the obligatory "steamy" sex scenes - lots of shots of a tanned Demi in little white knickers - to illustrate just how much they damn well fancy each other and there has been much gnashing of teeth as the horrors of unemployment dawn. Just 15 minutes into Indecent Proposal, and things are not looking good. So, it's - rather unwisely - off to Las Vegas to try and raise the readies to fulfil that dream of a self-designed pad on the beach, or at least to keep body and soul together till the boom years return. The dog loves them both, and all is well in their comfy Californian lives until, in a spectacularly 90s-style plot development, the recession strikes and they get booted from their gainful employment as an architect (him) and estate agent (her).
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