There are two basic problems with this film: First, Rudolph Valentino may have been incredibly sexy on screen (woo-hoo!), but he wasn't that interesting off-screen. Second, he Rudolf Nureyev isn't a good enough actor to make him interesting. Russell tries to work around these basic problems by including lots of 1920's Hollywood excess and decadence, and as much sex and violence as he could fit in, all in amazing period clothes, but it's not enough.
It's a gorgeous film to look at, the screen glitters with light and color and glamour, and some of the scenes are stunning enough to keep you watching. My favorites are the dance sequences, Valentino was a dancer and the slinky, sexy Nureyev does several dazzling tango numbers. (I recommend this film to any serious balletomane for that reason)
It's when he has to talk that the film runs into trouble, and since he's the entire film, it's major trouble. Nureyev's English was never that good, and he either stumbles over his lines or spits them out at top Russian speed. His body is expressive, but his face is not, which is typical of dancers whose faces aren't clearly seen by the audiences, and who are mainly concerned with not panting visibly.
But the problem that could probably never be overcome is that the characters aren't very sympathetic or interesting. Valentino spent his short career as a passive pawn of the studios, his bitch wife Natasha Rambova (snippily played by the bland Michelle Phillips), and diva actor-director Alla Nazimova (Leslie Caron gnawing on the scenery). The script tries to build some regular-Joe-who-never-wanted-to-be-a-star sympathy for him, which somehow makes him less worthy of this kind of attention.
No, Valentino was an astonishing stud on screen and a wuss off, the only compelling thing about him are the performances he left. Better to get a tape of "The Sheik" than to watch this.
It's a gorgeous film to look at, the screen glitters with light and color and glamour, and some of the scenes are stunning enough to keep you watching. My favorites are the dance sequences, Valentino was a dancer and the slinky, sexy Nureyev does several dazzling tango numbers. (I recommend this film to any serious balletomane for that reason)
It's when he has to talk that the film runs into trouble, and since he's the entire film, it's major trouble. Nureyev's English was never that good, and he either stumbles over his lines or spits them out at top Russian speed. His body is expressive, but his face is not, which is typical of dancers whose faces aren't clearly seen by the audiences, and who are mainly concerned with not panting visibly.
But the problem that could probably never be overcome is that the characters aren't very sympathetic or interesting. Valentino spent his short career as a passive pawn of the studios, his bitch wife Natasha Rambova (snippily played by the bland Michelle Phillips), and diva actor-director Alla Nazimova (Leslie Caron gnawing on the scenery). The script tries to build some regular-Joe-who-never-wanted-to-be-a-star sympathy for him, which somehow makes him less worthy of this kind of attention.
No, Valentino was an astonishing stud on screen and a wuss off, the only compelling thing about him are the performances he left. Better to get a tape of "The Sheik" than to watch this.