Infidelity is like a hot flame that you dare yourself to touch. There’s at first an element of daring, of excitement. But the daring becomes mundane, the excitement disappears. Both are replaced by shame, by a wish to escape oneself, a dislike bordering on hatred for one’s accomplice in deceit.
I don’t really know if that what happens in Ullmann’s film. But it’s what I anticipate, having watched half. How tedious it all is, how predictable .. the euphoria of secrecy followed closely by sordidness related to one’s conception of self. As the fruit of selfishness, disgust redounds on the sinner, not the one sinned against.