Hey folks, Harry here.... Now at Toronto this year, as in most, from time to time a film is screened that is in a rough state, much like the test screenings that we report on here at AICN quite often. Well, LIBERTINE was one such film. Now sometimes, like with what happened to BROWN BUNNY at Cannes - the film can get slaughtered by it's roughness. Now - according to the below reviewer, the film needs lots of editing and sound work, cuz as is... it ain't there. There are spoilers, but more than that even, watch out about passing judgement too soon on this one, it may work out. Here ya go...
Hey Harry,
I just saw the Libertine at the Toronto Film Fest. The movie is being billed as a work in progress, and honestly, this giant pile of crap needs a lot of work if it's going to progress from terrible to perhaps barely watchable.
In the movie, Johnny Depp plays poet John Wilmots (oddly, often referred to as Johnny), an eccentric 17th Century poet who I think was the son of the king at the time. Of course, that, and other details are a little hazy because the sound mix was godawful and most of the voices came out like mush, but I digress. Wilmots is a philandering bastard who drinks just about every minute of the day. He is addicted to the theatre and one day sees actress Lizzy Barry, who he decides to take on as a project.
Spoilers!
He makes her a star and leaves his wife for her, but things go sour when he makes her the star of a play he writes to humiliate the king, played by John Malkovich. He eventually gets really sick and dies young.
End of spoilers!
The main problem with the Libertine stems from Malkovich. He apparently brought the script to first time director Laurence Dunmore (a commercial director) and then it seems he forced the plot between Depp, Morton, and Depp's wife around the king, who serves no real purpose in the film. Worse yet, Malkovich is terrible in the film. It's a melodramatic piece of soup anyway, but I've never seen the method actor deliver his lines so poorly.
This was probably just one cut of the movie, but I suggest they just go with one that centres around Morton and Depp and cut out the Malkovich stuff. Because of Malkovich's plot, the editors were clearly forced to cut out key plot elements. The progression of Wilmot's life is never at any point clearly explained. My girlfriend and I spent most of the movie looking at each other trying to figure out what exactly was happening.
Depp and Morton are just fine, but they can't elevate a piece that obviously needs heavy editing before any kind of release. This isn't even fit for a straight-to-DVD release in its current form.
Peppermint
Ok - now here's a radically different look at the film, by someone that loves it. But that went into excruciating detail in describing it, but then that shows just how intently Circe paid attention to the film. So here ya go - this is - essentially, the entire movie. Not necessarily for everyone.
Hi Harry,
Long-time reader of AICN, Toronto resident, and huge Depp fan. I had a chance to see "The Libertine" today, wrote up a review for friends who weren't as lucky, and thought I'd forward it to you as well in case you wanted to use parts of it.
Circe
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I got to see The Libertine as part of the Toronto International Film Festival. The screening was presented at the historic Elgin Winter Garden Theatre, and it was very cool to see a movie like this in such gilt-and-scarlet opulence, let me tell you.
Even better was that the first-time director, Laurence Dunmore, was there. He introduced the film, was really nervous and really nice. He also spoke in near-awed terms about working with Depp, and joked about the difficulties of instructing Depp after Johnny tied him up in his trailer! Apparently Malkovitch asked Dunmore to direct the film after working with him in a commercial. It sounds like a really good experience was had by all.
If you want the non-spoiler version it can be summed up like this:
Johnny Depp = Brilliant absolutely utterly brilliant. Career-crowning performance.
Movie = Very good
Acting = Great, dedicated cast
Script = Adapted excellently by the playwright, dialogue superb
Boykissing (because we all know everyone wonders about that) = No boykissing at all. No overt slashiness, though certainly sly subtext and implied offscreen relationships. Rochester is bisexual, they don't show it, but they do emphasize it.
Negatives = A little long, romance a bit passionless
This is not a movie for cutsie Johnny Depp fangirls. Nor is this is not a movie for fans of the Dangerous Liaisons school of history, who like their sets and costumes sparkly and their production values to involve Crest Whitener and their antiheroes to be delightfully sophisticated. I watched as members of both these groups left the theatre, many of them at the time when Rochester (Depp's character) pissed himself.
There is mud in the London of The Libertine; there is filth and corruption and sin. There is sex but it is a profoundly unsexy film -- the smack and suck of a whore's fat thighs, the stench of her rotting teeth, the knowledge that sex is a business and an expectation as much as a passing pleasure takes all anticipation or mystery from the act. The film is grotesque and grainy and gritty and sour, and watching Rochester mince through the muck, stepping all over the soul he willingly threw away, is not a pleasant experience. But fuck, is it a compelling one.
Although billed as a work in progress, The Libertine seemed quite polished to me. Having said that, the score (by Michael Nyman) and the sound mixing didn't seem quite right in places ... and there was a scene or two that wouldn't be missed, so we'll see what remains to be done.
So The Libertine is adapted from the play of the same name, written by Stephen Jeffreys (who also penned the screenplay). It is about John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester -- a dissolute debauch. An infamous playwright, a poet, and wit. A man of squandered talent and wasted promise. The Libertine is the portrait of a victim of the Restoration -- Rochester (Depp) is a man whose name has become synonymous with joie de vivre, but is a man for whom life no longer holds any joy.
He is out of love with his wife, but there is a wistfulness in his dealings with her; there is no doubt that he recognizes his own failure and regrets it. Rochester rattles between his country estate and the London swells, depending upon whether or not he is in favour with Charles II. The King is both drawn and repelled by Rochester, feeling obligation, affection, and irritation in equal parts. The politics of the time is an integral part of the plot, but does not overpower the character-driven film. Basically Charles needs to start to put forth a more thoughtful and responsible image for Parliament, and he wants Rochester to help him do it.
But Rochester appears tired. The first hints of illness are beginning to creep upon him, and he is haunted by memories of war, and of the death of his friend (lover?) in combat. Weary and restless, yet always aware of the rakish reputation he has nurtured and taken pride in, Rochester turns to the theatre for stimulation. He finds what he is looking for in Mrs. Barry (Samantha Morton), an actress who is booed off the stage the first time he sees her. Rochester begins tutoring Mrs. Barry in the art of acting, and there are a few utterly riveting scenes of this. Mrs. Barry is rightly suspicious, and tells Rochester that he could buy her slit for a pound a night and she'd be far more comfortable with it. She accuses him of wanting power over her, of wanting to be able to lay claim to her talent and her gift. He tells her, no -- the theatre is his drug, and like any addict, he merely wishes his fix to be of the highest quality. When Mrs. Barry meets with acclaim, their strange relationship is consummated. Rochester is afraid, perhaps because he feels something for the first time in longer than he can remember.
The King tells Rochester in no uncertain terms to live up to his promise for once. To write a masterpiece that may be presented to the French Ambassador. So (to the film audience's absolute fascinated horror), Rochester stages a play about cocks and cunts and tupping and the state of the British monarchy. He has half-naked nymphs riding giant cocks and impaling themselves on giant wooden dildos. It, uh, doesn't go over well.
By this time, there's the sense that it's all going downhill fast for Rochester. His illness is deepening and you get the feeling that if he didn't give a fuck before, he REALLY doesn't give a fuck now. But that at the same time, he can protest and protest about not caring what people think of him, but without attention (and this is really a ploy for that) there is no point to his existence.
Embarrassing the King means that Rochester must flee London again. Six months pass, during which time the Pox completely overtakes him. Depp gets the makeup treatment. He loses the wig (mmmm .... cropped hair!), gets lacerations across his face, his nose starts to rot away, one of his eyes goes milky with blindness. During this time he, his whore friend, and his manservant (name of "Allcock"), pose as miracle doctors. Rochester proceeds to fleece the ignorant of their cash and to spread his disease as widely as he possibly can.
When the King eventually finds him, Charles makes it clear that the worst punishment he can devise is to ignore Rochester, to give up on him once and for all, and to allow him to rot until he dies. Rochester goes back to his wife in the country. She screams at him, screams that she wants him to be the man she knows he can be. Rochester sinks to her feet, unable to walk and covered in his own excrescene and urine. He is lower than rock bottom; he is in hell.
An undetermined amount of time passes. We rejoin Charles, who is before Parliament. The bill under debate is a bill which would take his Catholic brother out of the succession. Just when all seems lost, Rochester appears. The Syphillis is really advanced by now. Rochester is wearing a metal plate on a string across his nose (yes, that's right -- remember in the POTC DVD commentary when Depp rhapsodized about wanting to give Captain Jack a fake nose because Jack's real one would have rotted off due to syphillis? Well, he got his wish, dude). His face is covered in pox marks, badly concealed with lead paint. His mouth is a garish stripe of painted red. He walks -- no, lurches -- on two canes, because he can barely move he is so sick. But his voice is strong as he makes an impassioned speech on the King's behalf. The King wins and thanks Rochester: "You finally did something for me." "No," Rochester says. "I did it for me."
So we've got a bit of redemption happening as we head into the final deathbed scenes. They aren't pretty. Depp clearly revels in the opportunity to look as ugly as is humanly possible and the makeup artists have a syphillitic field day. That being said, it doesn't detract from the power of the scenes -- Depp repents to a priest, tells his son not to become like him, reconciles with his wife. And he does it all with a very saddening mocking irony.
And then he dies.
This summary, of course, cannot possibly do justice to the incredible richness of the film. It is FULL of cock jokes, cunt jokes, bawdy humour of all kinds. Most characters wear the white lead face paint and have rouged lips, giving the continuous impression that all of London is playing a part upon the stage of their city and its expectations. The look, feel, and mood of this film is a huge part of why it worked. Lavish isn't the word to describe this historical -- try moody, muddy, foggy, dirty. The streets and buildings were filthy and muddy. The teeth were bad and skin was coated in peeling lead paint and too much rouge. You could practically smell the ripeness of unwashed bodies and and sweat and stale sex.
The lighting in particular was absolutely marvellous -- very little exterior daylight (and most of it found in the countryside). The colour palette of the film was sepia, green, grey, and black. Moody without being oppressive. London was all wavering candlelight and spot pinlights to make Rochester's black eyes glitter beneath the shadow of his wig. I thought the direction was very good. The camera work was dynamic, lots of motion and what seemed like handheld camera work, but it managed to feel intimate as well.
The entire cast was marvellous. Jack Davenport plays Mr. Harris -- it's a minor role, a theatre actor, but he's got a drop dead funny scene with Rochester.
Tom Hollander (who I've always liked) played Rochester's friend and rival, and there were roles played by Francesca Annis, Richard Coyle, and by Depp favourites Shane MacGowan (of the Pogues), and comedian Johnny Vegas. The pimp stick also makes many memorable appearances.
Samantha Morton was good as Mrs. Barry, but rather cold and inaccessible -- a portrayal that kept with the script, but that failed at properly explaining Rochester's passion. If anywhere, the sexual/romantic relationship between Rochester and Mrs. Barry was where the film felt lacking. While things were business-like between them it worked very well, but I saw no connection beyond that. I were quite impressed with Rosamund Pike as Rochester's wife, Elizabeth. In fact, I wondered if perhaps things might have worked better had the two actresses switched roles.
But. In retrospect, perhaps it did work after all. The great love of his life WAS his wife -- maybe it's best that the audience could see this, even if he himself could not until the very end.
Charles is one of the best performances I've seen from John Malkovitch in a long time ... very restrained. It actually creeped me out sometimes because of how much he LOOKED like Charles II.
Malkovitch originated the role on stage, but Johnny Depp owns Rochester. It's cliche to say it, but I suspect this is the role Johnny's been working up to all his career. There are bits of Captain Jack, bits of Abberline, bits of Corso, bits of Donnie Brasco; hell, there are bits of Gilbert Grape and of Edward Scissorhands, too. He pulls from every part he's ever played and then ups it all a notch. This is the part he was waiting for, and he is no less than brilliant.
The film begins with a closeup of Rochester, lit with flickering candle, all sepia-green and shadowed. He tells us that we will loathe him, but he promises that every woman, every man will be seduced regardless. The film closes, bookended by monologue, and Rochester, returned to his sly and handsome self, mocks himself for repenting and denying his nature. Then he asks, whispers, entreats, "Do you like me now?"
And you'll catch your breath and close your eyes, but by the time you open them, the moment will be gone.
Circe
