Unless you've been stranded on the planet Nedeh for the past year, you've undoubtedly heard about the controversy which has greeted the movie 9 1/2 Weeks.

Any story that focuses on the sado-masochistic love affair between an art gallery attendant slave and a stockbroker master is bound to attract some response. But this film, based on an autobiographical book written under a fictitious name, got more than it bargained for. Three major film studios abandoned their plans to distribute it, and nearly 10 minutes were shaved from its theatrical version. Then, when if finally opened in American theaters —nearly a year after it was completed— 9 1/2 Weeks was given an embarrassingly short run. The irony of the film's history is that a longer version, released in Europe, has become a box-office hit. So much for good, ol' Yankee apprehension.

Now 9 1/2 Weeks is being issued on videocassette in an "in-between, unrated version," that's about two minutes longer than what ran in American theaters. The two minutes doesn't make a difference to a film that has one major problem: its premise. Essentially, 9 1/2 Weeks is a pointless, beautifully photographed movie about an ugly, antagonistic love affair shared by two people. A case in which the film's slickness overwhelms its supposed sickness, the movie nonetheless has some moments which may be deemed erotic by some viewers.

Mickey Rourke plays John, a mysterious, stubble-faced stockbroker who makes eye contact with Elizabeth (Kim Basinger), a beautiful, blonde art gallery attendant, while shopping at a Chinese grocery store. After a few failed attempts to pick her up, John finally scores. She's apparently drawn by his casually cryptic demeanor. Before long, he has her blindfolded, and on successive dates, he screws her on a dining room table and —in the film's most talked-about scene— feeds her such delicacies as strawberries, tomatoes, jello, cough syrup and hot peppers. The couple's motto could be "Yuck means never having to say you're sorry," for she finds herself growing more attracted to this man with the strange sexual appetite.

As their relationship intensifies, he demands more control of her life. "During the days, you can have your own life," he solemnly declares, "but let the nights be ours." To Elizabeth, however, the nights grow darker and the sex gets kinkier, until finally she decides he's strayed too far.

9 1/2 Weeks leaves one with lots of mixed emotions because it really has no point of view. Perhaps that's why Hollywood didn't know how to handle this film. You can't blame them, for it's hard to care about either John or Elizabeth. Their lives are enigmatic and their relationship is empty; apparently they're only in it for the pleasure and/or pain. Hints of their past are sprinkled throughout the film, but they don't connect to their bizarre love affair.

Director Adrian Lyne, the perpetrator of Flashdance, films 9 1/2 as if it's Smashdance. It plays like a music video designed for a trendy Manhattan S&M club. But this glitzy manner brings out both the best and worst points of the movie. Lyne's fast-paced editing, tricky camera movements and trendy musical underscoring involve the viewer more than any dialog shared by Rourke and Basinger. The chemistry between them is nonexistent. All the erotic heat comes from the poses. Lyne captures with his camera. There's Basinger and Rourke ripping each other's clothes off in a subway entrance as rain drenches both shadowy bodies; there's Basinger's perfectly shaped silhouette gyrating sensuously to a song called "You Can Leave Your Hat On," as Rourke watches nearby, and there's that smorgasbord sequence that will be either tasty or tasteless, depending on your, er, taste. Those seeking extended S&M and nude scenes, however, will undoubtedly be disappointed. The Story of O had rougher stuff, and only a few fleeting glimpses of Basinger's bare body are shown.

Nonetheless Lyne, Rourke and Basinger are to be applauded for attempting to bring such potential dynamite to the screen. It's too bad they were so overwhelmed by the motion when it came down to the meat.