At one point in Eric Schaeffer's Fall, supermodel Sarah Easton (Amanda De Cadenet) points an accusatory finger at her philandering wimp of a husband and asks him, "Why can't we just order Chinese food, sit on the floor, and talk about God?" God in this film is really just a metaphor for the object of Sarah's ephemeral affections, Michael Shiver (Eric Schaeffer), a New York cabbie that knows what he wants.

As Fall begins, Michael is driving his cab through the New York streets trying to make a living when into his cab plops Sarah, fresh from a photo shoot. After the obligatory smart-aleck banter, Michael asks Sarah to dinner and before long this sleek babe is waiting for Michael at the cab company and they then smooth talk each other to arousal, validated by an occasional "That's incredible!" outburst down the home stretch. The problem is that Sarah is married, but her husband is conveniently away for two months, thus allowing the couple ample time for tying each other up, having sweet sex, and eating take-out on the floor while watching public access television. Unfortunately, Sarah's husband, Philippe (Rudolph Martin), summons her to Paris, where he tells her that although he has had affairs with two other women, she is still tops with him. Sarah returns to New York and Michael but nothing is the same.

Fall is a film with a mission: to replace the sun with Eric Schaeffer at the center of the solar system. Schaeffer writes, directs and stars (as he had in his previous films My Life's in Turnaround and If Lucy Fell and onward past the millennium with his current cable series I Believe I'm Still Single) and his Michael character in another context would be the perfect candidate for a leader of a religious cult.

Michael, the only male character in the film besides the upper crust Euro-trash Philippe, demands attention and a following. His band of devotees includes two platonic girlfriends who meet him for breakfast and exist only in order to listen to descriptions of his sexual exploits and to feed his already gluttonous ego.

Michael wins a new recruit in Sarah for when Michael casts his gaze upon her, this tasty morsel can't get enough of him and is taken to spouting lines like, "I love every way that you touch me," "I missed everything with you," and "Please untie my hands; I want to do something to you." And little wonder, just the sound of his whispering, urgent voice brings her to orgasm -- and Barry White this guy is not. Michael is unflappable in his megalomania.

The film asks the question: Can a lower-class cabby have a relationship with a rich, international model? When things start to get dicey, Michael asks Sarah pointblank, "Is it a problem that you are rich and I'm poor?" But this issue is quickly brushed aside when Michael reveals that he is, in fact, a best-selling novelist who used to inhabit Sarah's world of flash and glitter. Only, superior being that he is, he rejected the world of privilege to drive a cab and slum with the masses. Almost as a threat, he tells her that he won't write another word until he can deal with success.

I'm happy for Michael and I'm happy for Schaeffer and I'm sure they will make a lovely couple. Only leave me out of it.



Don't fall on me.