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Libertine, The
Johnny Depp plays Restoration writer and rogue the Earl of Rochester. Commercial director Laurence Dunmore's feature debut is a very grown-up biopic
John Wilmot, the second Earl of Rochester, was a poet, playwright and rebel whose appetite for wine and women scandalised Restoration England. In Laurence Dunmore's The Libertine, Johnny Depp gives a stunning performance as a man who does not feel alive unless he exceeds every limit. "You will not like me," Rochester promises in his prologue, laying down a challenge. "I do not want you to like me." Depp plays him as a prototype rock star, and as he stumbles from bar to brothel, deflating hypocrisy and declaiming pornographic poetry, he is, if not likeable, then utterly mesmerising. The script - adapted by Stephen Jeffreys from his own play - sparkles like Tom Stoppard's for Shakespeare in Love but has more substance. While Rochester's clashes with Charles II begin as a joke, with his friend Etheridge drolly asking, "Why did he banish you this time?", it becomes clear he is running out of chances. When the King requests that he produce a major work of literature, he needs to deliver ("When would you like it? Friday?" Depp deadpans). Unfortunately, Rochester is squandering his genius on booze, whores, and, most dangerously, love for the actress Elizabeth Barry (Samantha Morton). This is a beautifully grimy period film - the countryside swirls with absinthe-coloured fogs, and St James' Park is a Bosch-like nightmare of humping flesh. Morton puts in a fierce turn as the Earl's soulmate, a woman determined to "continue being the creature I am", while Malkovich's puffy, careworn King is both sympathetic and threatening. Johnny Vegas is surprisingly effective as the campy, moist-mouthed Sackville. It is Depp that excels though, exuding real danger and sexuality from the start - by turns tender, tormented, bored or cruel. By the (literally) climatic scene in which Rochester's play for the king is performed - a jaw-dropping extravaganza featuring the character 'Little Clitoris' and a midget on a giant papier-m??ch?? dildo - pleasure in his daring gives way to horror at the fate that now seems inevitable. It is a measure of the film's achievement that even as the Earl turns outcast and monster, hiding his disfigured face from society, it is impossible to take your eyes off him. Verdict This is both a powerful portrayal of a man who pushed the limits of his age, and a funny, filthy piece of adult entertainment. |
