O’Toole gets his groove on in Venus

By Kylie Jane Wakefield
Collegian Editor
February 28, 2007

Watching two old men dance with each other is always a joy. This is just one of the things you get when you watch Peter O’Toole’s latest film, Venus. You will not only be aesthetically pleased by the graceful waltzing of O’Toole and co-star Leslie Phillips, but moved by its profound performances, shocked by its unconformity and stung by its existential significance.

O’Toole and Phillips play Maurice and Ian, two veteran actors (sound familiar?) at the end of their careers. The only work available for the aging pair is corpse roles, which proves to be a little too surreal for them. Ian, who realizes he’d rather retire than play dead people, becomes increasingly apprehensive about death. His niece’s daughter Jessie (Jodie Whittaker) moves in with him, causing more trouble than she’s worth.

Twenty-something Jessie excessively eats and drinks, curses like a pirate and lazily sulks around the house all day. She startles and annoys Ian, while Maurice is surprisingly charmed by her. Soon, Maurice and Jessie begin an awkward relationship, only made much more uncomfortable by a 50-year age gap. Jessie takes Maurice to night clubs where the odd couple drinks till dawn; Maurice shows Jessie the beauty in art and the more refined aspects of life.

Watching this strange relationship blossom on the screen is mesmerizing and completely difficult at the same time. Venus is not some corny coming-of-age story formulated to make you feel good at the end of its closing scene. Instead, it has its twists and turns, making sure to keep its unconventional story line as realistic as it can manage to be.

Venus touches on serious subjects such as abortion, forbidden love, finding a life purpose and mortality. Unlike most other films that fictionalize these important issues, though, it doesn’t drag along. The film is heavy, but it doesn’t weigh you down.

The controversial relationship between Maurice and Jessie is disapproved by Ian, eventually causing the downfall of his and Maurice’s friendship. Obviously, Jessie abandons Maurice because even she believes their relationship is a bit too unusual. His sexual advances rub her the wrong way, although he is clearly in love with her.

The filmmakers cleverly involve us in the story, making us see the relationship from both Maurice’s and Jessie’s points of view. In some scenes, we are shaken up by Maurice’s attraction to Jessie because it’s so frowned upon by society. But we also feel sympathetic because we know that his love is whole-hearted and sincere, despite how he expresses it.

The two are so completely different that they form an amazing bond, each positively affected by the other. The filmmakers don’t hold back, but go all the way, despite how uneasy it may make us feel.

By the end of Venus, you really don’t know what to make of it. Its exploration of universal themes by way of an offbeat story is extremely moving. Such complex relationships are rarely seen in modern films.

The only qualm I have with Venus is its liberal use of that highly popular Corinne Bailey Rae song “Put Your Records On.” It’s thrown in there a couple of times but doesn’t really mesh well with the story. It’s much too feel-good for the film, and well, kind of annoying.

Don’t be fooled by the trailer for Venus (the damned song’s in that, too). It gives off a false impression of the film and is advertised as being much more light-hearted than it actually is on screen. O’Toole’s latest has much more substance than you’d think. Venus is a distinct and memorable film, unique for its direct approach to deep topics and marked by the quality of its writing and performances.

wakefieldk1@lasalle.edu