I don't very often 86 a DVD from my collection. My copy of "Libertine" went to the used DVD store this morning. I made a special trip because the thing might infect my other discs.
Strangely, this should never have happened. The life of John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester, is a fascinating subject for a film. Rochester, virtually the most decadent man in a decadent age, epitomized Restoration England's rejection of Puritan tyranny. Unfortunately, you would never realize this from the film in which Charles II and his world exist virtually in an historical vacuum. In fact, just about the only actual history intruding upon the film is the scene incidentally far and away the best in the film in which Rochester (largely incapacitated by his galloping syphilis) appears in the House of Lords and contrives the passage of a bill that will assure the accession of Charles II's brother, James II. (This of course in turn assured the accession of William III and Mary II, not quite what Charles had in mind.) Rochester, a brilliant poet and playwright, could have been a great ornament to Charles II's court had he not chosen to alternate between defying the megalomaniacal king and vilifying him. This aspect of their relationship isn't exactly ignored in the film, although it appears to come from nowhere rather than having a history. The film opens with a monologue by Depp, pushing the point that Rochester's rather unlikable character is primarily a deliberate pose. This unwonted diluting of his personal tragedy is only the first misjudgement of many that tie "Libertine's" shoelaces into such an awful knot. We then progress to Rochester's position at court, which is shown to be precarious. Rochester's main concerns at the moment are a new production requested by the king and an actress, a protégée of his, Elizabeth Berry.
The production, once staged, is obviously intended to represent the entertainment that so offended the king as to provoke a break between him and the abrasive Rochester. It's hard to judge the historical accuracy of the film's representation of that event, which seems a bit much. However, one would have to go some in order to scandalize what was without doubt the most dissolute court in Europe. In disgrace, Rochester disappears for a time, taking Miss Berry with him. The film, alas, doesn't inform the viewer about actresses during the Restoration. For one thing, until about this period women weren't allowed on the stage. In fact, nobody was allowed on the stage during the Puritan tyranny (the "Commonwealth"). "The Libertine" doesn't even mention that Charles II's primary mistress, Nell Gwyn, was herself a well-known actress.
When Rochester reappears, he is much ravaged by terminal syphilis. Wearing a false nose and barely walking with 2 canes, he aids the king during the crisis over the succession. He eventually dies probably not much more frustrated than the audience.
Generally speaking, it takes bad actors to make bad pictures. Here, however, the excellence of the cast throws the awfulness of this film into high relief. Rochester is played by Johnny Depp -- who, if anyone could, might have saved this thing. He plays the part with enormous verve and sincerity, as he always does. Alas, all he does here is manage to highlight the banality and stereotypicality of the script.
John Malkovich, whose understated sophistication doesn't always endear him to viewers, is the perfect foil for Depp as Charles II. Malkovich, in full makeup, is shown as a perfect descendant of the supremely ugly James I (but, of course, Charles unlike James was partial to women) (hence the later references to the era of "good King Elizabeth and good Queen James"). His performance is absolutely spot-on, even to the extent that he's frequently able to upstage Depp.
I've not run across the obviously talented Samantha Morton before. She tends to appear in films that, were I to watch them, would have me thinking, "Gee, I could be watching the 'Toon Channel instead!" Here, her performance as Elizabeth Berry is first-rate.
Other performances become increasingly minor, but I can't say that any of them was badly done. Notwithstanding, these valiant efforts are swallowed up in this great sprawling confusion of a film. It's difficult to say which is the murkier aspect of this: the photography or the combined results of script and editing.
Much of the problem with the film's photography is that it appears to be a failed attempt to use natural lighting including candle light. The result is mostly varying degrees of off-focus dimness. One constantly has to squint to make sure that one's eyes are working properly and what's wrong is on the screen.
The script may have been, at the beginning, a model of orderly logic. Once processed into a final product, however, the result is jumbled and more non-linear than any storyline should be. While the general development of things is more or less evident, following motivations and the order of events can often be frustrating.
I have no idea whether anything herein constitutes a "spoiler". Some people spoil very easily. Anyway, I said there was one just to be safe.
If you want a well-made film set in this same period, one that develops its themes with great force and clarity, watch "Restoration". This reminds me of another problem with "Libertine". "Period" films often benefit greatly from scores featuring music of the same period. Unlike "Restoration", which gives us an auditory feast of Purcell and other musicians of the era, "Libertine" gives us hardly anything and certainly not the glorious music of the reigns of the late Stuarts. It may be of interest to note that it was Purcell who wrote incidental music to a play by Thomas Shadwell called wait for it "The Libertine". This last almost certainly trod the boards more successfully than this latter-day success
Strangely, this should never have happened. The life of John Wilmot, the 2nd Earl of Rochester, is a fascinating subject for a film. Rochester, virtually the most decadent man in a decadent age, epitomized Restoration England's rejection of Puritan tyranny. Unfortunately, you would never realize this from the film in which Charles II and his world exist virtually in an historical vacuum. In fact, just about the only actual history intruding upon the film is the scene incidentally far and away the best in the film in which Rochester (largely incapacitated by his galloping syphilis) appears in the House of Lords and contrives the passage of a bill that will assure the accession of Charles II's brother, James II. (This of course in turn assured the accession of William III and Mary II, not quite what Charles had in mind.) Rochester, a brilliant poet and playwright, could have been a great ornament to Charles II's court had he not chosen to alternate between defying the megalomaniacal king and vilifying him. This aspect of their relationship isn't exactly ignored in the film, although it appears to come from nowhere rather than having a history. The film opens with a monologue by Depp, pushing the point that Rochester's rather unlikable character is primarily a deliberate pose. This unwonted diluting of his personal tragedy is only the first misjudgement of many that tie "Libertine's" shoelaces into such an awful knot. We then progress to Rochester's position at court, which is shown to be precarious. Rochester's main concerns at the moment are a new production requested by the king and an actress, a protégée of his, Elizabeth Berry.
The production, once staged, is obviously intended to represent the entertainment that so offended the king as to provoke a break between him and the abrasive Rochester. It's hard to judge the historical accuracy of the film's representation of that event, which seems a bit much. However, one would have to go some in order to scandalize what was without doubt the most dissolute court in Europe. In disgrace, Rochester disappears for a time, taking Miss Berry with him. The film, alas, doesn't inform the viewer about actresses during the Restoration. For one thing, until about this period women weren't allowed on the stage. In fact, nobody was allowed on the stage during the Puritan tyranny (the "Commonwealth"). "The Libertine" doesn't even mention that Charles II's primary mistress, Nell Gwyn, was herself a well-known actress.
When Rochester reappears, he is much ravaged by terminal syphilis. Wearing a false nose and barely walking with 2 canes, he aids the king during the crisis over the succession. He eventually dies probably not much more frustrated than the audience.
Generally speaking, it takes bad actors to make bad pictures. Here, however, the excellence of the cast throws the awfulness of this film into high relief. Rochester is played by Johnny Depp -- who, if anyone could, might have saved this thing. He plays the part with enormous verve and sincerity, as he always does. Alas, all he does here is manage to highlight the banality and stereotypicality of the script.
John Malkovich, whose understated sophistication doesn't always endear him to viewers, is the perfect foil for Depp as Charles II. Malkovich, in full makeup, is shown as a perfect descendant of the supremely ugly James I (but, of course, Charles unlike James was partial to women) (hence the later references to the era of "good King Elizabeth and good Queen James"). His performance is absolutely spot-on, even to the extent that he's frequently able to upstage Depp.
I've not run across the obviously talented Samantha Morton before. She tends to appear in films that, were I to watch them, would have me thinking, "Gee, I could be watching the 'Toon Channel instead!" Here, her performance as Elizabeth Berry is first-rate.
Other performances become increasingly minor, but I can't say that any of them was badly done. Notwithstanding, these valiant efforts are swallowed up in this great sprawling confusion of a film. It's difficult to say which is the murkier aspect of this: the photography or the combined results of script and editing.
Much of the problem with the film's photography is that it appears to be a failed attempt to use natural lighting including candle light. The result is mostly varying degrees of off-focus dimness. One constantly has to squint to make sure that one's eyes are working properly and what's wrong is on the screen.
The script may have been, at the beginning, a model of orderly logic. Once processed into a final product, however, the result is jumbled and more non-linear than any storyline should be. While the general development of things is more or less evident, following motivations and the order of events can often be frustrating.
I have no idea whether anything herein constitutes a "spoiler". Some people spoil very easily. Anyway, I said there was one just to be safe.
If you want a well-made film set in this same period, one that develops its themes with great force and clarity, watch "Restoration". This reminds me of another problem with "Libertine". "Period" films often benefit greatly from scores featuring music of the same period. Unlike "Restoration", which gives us an auditory feast of Purcell and other musicians of the era, "Libertine" gives us hardly anything and certainly not the glorious music of the reigns of the late Stuarts. It may be of interest to note that it was Purcell who wrote incidental music to a play by Thomas Shadwell called wait for it "The Libertine". This last almost certainly trod the boards more successfully than this latter-day success