El decadente

The Libertine was a brilliant period piece. It was a tragically realistic yet witty and humorous look at the Restoration period in England, but more specifically depicted the latter stages of the life of the Second Earl Of Rochester, a poet, who endured a short and debauched life. Here was a man so highly intelligent, yet so bored with life that he thrived by consistently pushing his limits and the boundaries of his relationships.

Johnny Depp eloquently and emotionally portrayed the Earl of Wilmot. This has to be by far his most brilliant achievement in a long line of unique and amazing performances. Mr. Depp's portrayal of the Earl showed a range of emotions, incredible nuances and a depth of empathy never before seen on screen, best illustrated during the scene where The Earl addresses parliament - which has to be the most gut wrenching scene, rife with fervor but with credibility. Suffice it to say by the end of this movie I had been reduced to tears and cheers, both at times coinciding. This is definitely an Oscar worthy performance. The golden statue is a must.

The supporting cast was also excellent; most notably, the actor who played the Earl's servant, and who appeared to have a great rapport with Mr. Depp, on screen. Samantha Morton, also superb as Mrs. Barry, gave a lovely and unobtrusive performance as was required for this character.

Laurence Dunmore captured the atmosphere of the period exquisitely with simplicity yet with a keen eye to detail. The reproduction of the 'family' Portrait of the Earl with the monkey is an excellent example. The lighting, the sets, the costumes all added to the reality of the movie. The musical score by Michael Nyman beautifully augmented the spirit of the times and of this production.

The Libertine was a work in progress when I viewed it twice at the Toronto Film Fest. I cannot imagine a scene being cut; even the more risqué dreams are required to impart the true emotional state of the Earl at that time in his life. Before passing judgment on this film I suggest that one see it at least twice so as to appreciate the full impact of the movie – to fully identify with the meaning and the thought behind this production.

The Libertine is a wonderful piece of art, representing the true raison d'être of this poet with incredible wit and insight. Congratulations to all who graced the production of the Libertine.

The Libertine is definitely not for the faint-hearted or those who are easily offended. For those who love great production values, storytelling and acting, The Libertine will be a treat. It may not be a personal favourite as of yet but I for one found it an exceptionally good film and think it doesn't get enough recognition.

It is a very meticulous-looking film, the photography is wonderfully moody yet sumptuous, the film has a very telling atmosphere and it really feels like you're transported back into the 17th century looking at the costumes and sets. Michael Nyman's score is understated and haunting, fitting beautifully with the atmosphere, though to me it could have used more music from the period which would have given off even more authenticity. The script is funny, thoughtful and packs emotional punch while the story while occasionally dragging is told rivetingly with scenes like the chair scene between Wilmot and Elizabeth, Wilmot's address to parliament and the final scene really lifted by the quality and the acting. Laurence Dunmore directs most admirably, remarkably good for a debut, inexperience occasionally shows but a vast majority of the time it's incredibly well done.

Characters are compelling, especially Wilmot who is very multi-layered, but if there was one thing that was truly exceptional about The Libertine it was the acting. Johnny Depp gives a powerhouse and multi-layered performance that ranks among his best. The dependable Samantha Morton marvels too, John Malkovich does stately and ambiguous in a suitably restrained and regal way while still maintaining interest and Rosamund Pike gives the most heartfelt performance I've ever seen her give(coming from someone who has liked a lot of what she's done), particularly a revelation in the chair scene. The chemistry throughout convinces though that between Depp and Pike came over personally as stronger than that between him and Morton.

All in all, a fine film if not for everybody and really deserves much more praise than it gets. 9/10 Bethany Cox

The libertine - What a film... Despite its murkiness, and turgid subject matter, Johnny gives what has to be, his most intricate and breathtaking performance. The first forty-five minutes focuses mainly on John Wilmot's drunken and lecherous ways, and the final forty-five minutes (roughly at around the time that Johnny removes his wig), the sad and awful truth of the life of Rochester kicks in, and from then on, its a cracking story. At the final scene as the light fades along with the haunting words of Rochester's final monologue, I don't think that I would be alone in saying that I was moved to goosebumps and spine chills. Depp is just so intense that frankly, he is beyond brilliant. If the academy don't recognise him this time, I will personally have 'words' with Mr Weinstein! On the whole, an absorbingly different film that deserves all credit.

In 1660, with the return of Charles II (John Malkovich) to the English throne, theater, the visual arts, science and sexual intercourse flourish. Thirteen years later, in the middle of political and economical problems, Charles II asks the return of his friend John Wilmot (Johnny Depp), aka the second Earl of Rochester, from the exile to London. John is a morally corrupt, drunkard and sexually active cynical poet, and the King asks him to prepare a play for the French ambassador to make him pleased. John meets the aspirant actress Elizabeth Barry (Samantha Morton) in the playhouse and decides to make her a great star. He falls in love for her, and she becomes his mistress; during the presentation to the Frenchman, he falls in disgrace in the court. When he was thirty-three years old, he was dying of syphilis associated to alcoholism and he converted to a religious man.

"The Libertine" is the unpleasant story of the repulsive and despicable poet John Wilmot, the Second Earl of Rochester, but magnificently performed by Johnny Depp, who deserved a nomination to this Oscar. The cinematography, art and costume directions, make-up, soundtrack, acting and direction are excellent, but the biography of this man, the way it was presented in this movie, is nasty and disgusting. My vote is six.

Title (Brazil): "O Libertino" ("The Libertine")

What images are conjured up by the title! Especially when we know in advance the lead is to be played by the handsome Johnny Depp. Perhaps a likable rake, a dissolute, even fashionable but very colourful icon of male supremacy - to be forgiven by female fans if they can watch from the safety of a cinema seat!

The reality is a disturbingly different film, dark and sombre, a 17th century candle-lit England, a portrait of the poet and debauchee John Wilmot, and one that ultimately bows out to a feminist heroine in the form of the great actress Elizabeth Barry (played by Samantha Morton).

In an opening prologue, Wilmot tells the audience that they will not like him. With the gusto characteristic of Depp, he throws himself into his melodramatic character in a way that is markedly different from his many half-serious, half-comic roles. As if to win his wager, he is out to repulse us - but not just with licentious excess: the tragedy of Wilmot is that he possesses genius but is unable to use it to furnish his own fulfilment. He is a tragic character, no Don Juan that follows a promiscuous lifestyle as a summum bonum, but a man of inner greatness for whom the outer world is so boring that he loses himself in drink and sexual excess and eventually alienates those around him. "I have to speak my mind," he says, "for it is always more interesting than what is going on around me."

As the 2nd Earl of Rochester, Wilmot is in and out of favour at the court of Charles II (John Malkovitch) and frequently upsets his lovely wife (Rosamund Pike) with his whoring and drinking. But his wife's jealousy is eventually piqued not so much by the loose women or the ale-house, but by Wilmot's love of the theatre - especially in the form of prostitute-destined-for-greatness, Elizabeth Barry. At a time before the emancipation of women, when the stage had recently been the sole province of men, Barry is determined to make it as an actress. She is hobbled by inexperience and a lowly position, but Wilmot takes her under his patronage and tutelage. Wary of the deal, Barry resists, saying she wants to rise by her own efforts - not so Wilmot can take the credit! He asks her what drives her, and her response, her passion for theatre, the desire to thrill and move an audience, is one that Wilmot identifies with, for he is tired of the lukewarm pastiches that trivialise even great writing.

Unfortunately for Wilmot, his own greatness is on the ebb. It was said of him that he was, "A man whom the muses were fond to inspire, but ashamed to avow." His taunting of the king and a scurrilous lampoon of Charles II in front of the French ambassador help to seal his fate.

Samantha Morton continues to show her acting talents with a substantial (if not substantial enough) part and Malkovitch is an adequate counterbalance to the very considerable stage presence of Depp. The screenplay (based on an earlier play starring Malkovitch) sparkles with wit and, even if the direction is a little uneven or turgid at times, it is an admirable and important debut from Laurence Dunmore. The desaturated colours and muddy, rain-sodden English countryside create an air of foreboding entirely appropriate for a work that is more serious than its title suggests.

Intellectually, we are treated to the drollness and intelligence of Wilmot but realise that he is a 'locked-in' and isolated character, a loner and barely appreciated trailblazer (in some respects like the great Marlon Brando to whose memory, among others, the film is dedicated). We also see the folly and weakness of his philosophy.

Wilmot wrote:

"Consider real Honour then, You'll find hers cannot be the same; 'Tis noble confidence in men, In women, mean, mistrustful shame."

Yet it was the honour of the lowly Elizabeth Barry that ultimately inspired him and, somehow, remained ever out of reach.