John says, "... it's not any riskier than you coming here," to Elizabeth. "Here, where there are no neighbours around. We hardly know each other. I don't know you. You really don't know me. I mean, there's no taxicab waiting on the curb. There is no phone booth outside. There's no one to hear you if you called out. Just you," he adds pointedly, "and me."
These are the premises of John's relationship with Elizabeth. In the beginning of their relationship, while John demonstrates his ability to control a scene in a beautiful waterfront apartment that does not even belong to him, he declares, fairly succinctly, exactly how he wishes the relationship to appear.
And scene by scene, experience by experience, gift by gift, he chisels the relationship (and Elizabeth's expectations) into the ideal -- his ideal. A relationship where, by day, she may be with her friends and do whatever she wishes, but by night it would just be the two of them: John and Elizabeth, only. No one to hear. No taxicab waiting. "Just you and me."
Yet, all of that aside, it is perfectly clear that John's "ideal" is also shaped by Elizabeth as a person, by who she is, by how she is. The best part of the movie, in fact (for me, in any case!) is watching how he watches her. John spends so much movie-time intently looking. He looks at her. He watches her. He studies, anticipates, plans, and makes it look effortless yes but -- behind the scenes, where we the audience cannot see, he spends time and resources actually considering Elizabeth specifically.
The movie might easily have been called, "Considering Elizabeth," if that title didn't give her so much agency.
The movie might easily have been called, "Considering Elizabeth," if that title didn't give her so much agency.
He molds the woman that she is. He shapes the woman that she is. "...no one to hear you if you called out," gives her license to scream and squeal every time they meet. (Note how often she screams and squeals during their scenes together.) On the one hand, John's power of suggestion is only part of it; on the other hand, John's power of observation is nearly the whole of it.
John's power, in both cases, comprises all of it.
"Does this [blindfold] frighten you?" John asks her.
"Yes."
"Does it excite you?" John asks her.
"Yes."
"It does," he says in response, "me too."
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