Review of Venus (2006) by Anton H — 22 Jan 2011

Cinema has had a number of stains and gems regarding the taboo of old-meets-young in sexual relationships. Unfortunately, Peter Oâ(TM)Tooleâ(TM)s quirkily misplaced majestic performance seems to have been wasted on this skid mark, devoid of any genuine justification for the risquà (C) moments of a perverted old man desperate to swap fluids with his twenty-year-old crush.

Famed dramatic actor Maurice Russell, in the twilight of his seventies, meets his friend's grandniece and new nurse, Jessie. He is immediately smitten by her, and just as soon brings out the alcohol in hopes she will submit. The rest of the film is plagued with sequences of lowbrow ribaldry, and occasional heartfelt moments that are overpowered by the former, if only just.

After several borderline hilarious establishing scenes showing old British men with filthy mouths exchanging medications like junkies and discussing obituaries as if in a Monty Python sketch, the film takes a turn for the painfully awkward. This classic romance attribute is accepted, and expected: when boy meets girl, there is initial disdain from at least one party, resulting in a rough start to the inevitable love story, reinforcing the old convention, âThe more they hate each other, the more likely theyâ(TM)ll fall in love by the end of the movie.â?

With Venus, this awkwardness simply does not stop. Maurice charms Jessie with the gentlemanly charisma only Oâ(TM)Tool can convey; Jessie is treated like a princess; the princess is then groped; she retreats, tells Maurice she never wants to see him again, and he rustles out a gravelling laugh of an old pervert. Repeat. Again. And again, only more rude.

The intermittent scenes of Maurice with his friends, visits with his estranged old flame, and solitary moments with his thoughts seem to have heart, but we canâ(TM)t feel the beat. Stanley Kubrick handled this taboo subgenre perfectly with Lolita, not exploiting a single element, and capturing our sympathy for an old man who discovers his lust and love may be confused confused. Venus takes the opposite route, exploiting the taboo to the point where Jessie is a character we love to hate, and Maurice turns out to be nothing more than a shameless, horny old man.

All things considered, there are only two things that nearly saved it for me. One is Peter Oâ(TM)Tooleâ(TM)s performance, which beautifies his character with a surprising elegance. The other is an important plot element that sadly confused the film: Maurice, after prostate surgery, is impotent. Does this mean that his licentious erotic tendencies are the result of true love? Probably not. This was, perhaps, a simple plot device inserted only for the purpose of gaining understanding for his character, and some consideration that he is more that just a horny geezer.

There are many who hail this film as a near-perfect romantic comedy, as touching as it is funny, etc. This pablum is unjustified because any substance or underlying meaning to this âlove storyâ? can only be described as ludicrous. How could it not? This certainty speaks for itself, namely when Jessie feels herself and allows Maurice to smell her fluids, yet tries to slap him when he tries to lick her fingers. I am not making this up.

With careful avoidance of the word âtrash,â? I have to say Venus is a horribly miscalculated and vain excuse for a seldom attempted love story. As I anticipated, it is worthy of a single viewing only for Peter Oâ(TM)Toole, proving that he is among the greatest actors of his generation, and the last hope for modern theatres to be graced with silver screens once again.