“Exótica” sólo puede ser vista como un cliente más de su club de alterne. Es premisa sinecuanum para poder observar y entender como lo hace Egoyan. Como ya se apuntó, Egoyan, subido al carro de la posmodernidad, consigue con este baile de personajes, alejarse de muchos de los errores de este movimiento. En su mejor trabajo hasta la fecha, Egoyan repite ciertos trucos como la imagen congelada (en este caso de su hija), pero que aquí cobra un significado especial.

Exprime los recursos que en su mano están para que sus personajes puedan respirar (o asfixiarse) acordes a sus papeles. Así, Egoyan busca esas localizaciones tremendamente oscuras (el club o la tienda de animales o la casa de Thomas) hasta el punto de humanizar el propio decorado. Si has llegado a ese punto, sí consigues que las luces de neón te hablen, que las plantas te incomoden, que los acuarios te atrapen, entonces “Exótica” te ha abducido. Ya no hay marcha atrás, escuchas:

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died

Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you've been faithful
Ah give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you've been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That's how it goes
Everybody knows

And everybody knows that it's now or never
Everybody knows that it's me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when you've done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old Black Joe's still pickin' cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows

And everybody knows that the Plague is coming
Everybody knows that it's moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But there's gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows