She ultimately achieves what D. Lawrence was writing in a time when, generally speaking, one was unlikely to go to the local cinema and see Cameron Diaz have sex with a car — or, indeed, anyone having sex at all, with a car or otherwise. The other man is Javier Bardem, who plays a decadent criminal named Reiner. But the more I think about The Counselor, the more I think it is a document that deserves close study. This is the kind of thing that should make him more attractive to Diaz; in fact, it merely makes her attracted to his car. You would be forgiven, then, for thinking that The Counselor is not the sort of movie in which someone engages in sexual congress with a car. The scene where Cameron Diaz has sex with a car is filled with ambient signifiers of Americana. He has purchased, as a sign of his awesomeness, a cool car…a foreign-made car. Diaz, however, represents pleasure unadorned by humanity or connection. She kills one more person, takes his money, and plans to live forever someplace new. But in point of fact, The Counselor is indeed a film in which someone Cameron Diaz has sex intercourse with a car Ferrari. The movie is populated by the kind of stateless nomads defined by George Clooney in Up in the Air. One of the few coherent things he expresses is the idea that, for an individual, their life is the entirety of their universe — which means that, when they die, the universe functionally dies with them. The root, you might argue, of all humanity. Bardem is in love with Malkina, a femme fatale played by Cameron Diaz. Fassbender asks him to elaborate.