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Roger, learning there is a new man in her life, asks Nikki: "Is he younger, a boy toy?" She responds, with a knowing smile: "He's just my type."
It's difficult to suppress the urge to scream "Run, Tom, run!" whenever a moony Nikki flutters her eyes while continually referring to him as Garrett—that's on top of lying that she is alone because her husband dumped her. You would think he would get a clue that all is not right when they visit one of Garrett and Nikki's favorite restaurants together and the chef acts as if he already knows Tom. But, then, that would make sense.
If done right, "The Face of Love" could have been an interesting update of the sorts of "women's films" that Joan Crawford made in her later career. But Posin is more interested in summoning blatantly earnest emotions that are clearly beyond the reach of such pedestrian material. It all too easy to view Bening's character as a manipulative monster bent on destroying this innocent man for her own selfish purposes instead of someone who should be seeking psychiatric help.