B Plus Movies

The name George Romero is most often associated with the shambling hordes of the undead, being one of the men most responsible for the modern vision of the zombie due to films like Night of the Living Dead, its sequels and their remakes. It would be easy to forget that he did other work that soaked less into the public imagination.

For instance, knights jousting on motorcycles as in Knightriders.

Knightriders starts with Ed Harris as the head of a sort of roving Renn Faire, featuring the aforementioned motorized violence. Harris’ character attempts to run his kingdom in the style of Arthur which often comes at odds with the day to day practicalities. It also comes to odds with one of his knights played by Tom Savini.

The story revolves around Harris’ attempts to keep his band together while simultaneously trying to face a world that has little time for idealists. Along the way he must face a corrupt cop, dissent from his own people and ultimately, his own fear.

The only caution I give is that this isn’t an action movie. It resonates more with films like Billy Jack, hippie epics about being misunderstood in a creul world. It’s a movie that is about ideals which, thankfully, never gets preachy about them nor uses them to club the audience over the head.

The acting in this movie saves it from being merely a campy gimmick  and elevates the whole film to a level befitting it’s epic roots. It is very much a tale of man vs. world, sometimes that world being his own. Totally realistic and very much relatable, Knightriders is a pleasant reminder of the talents of Romero, Savini and Harris as well as perhaps a cautionary tale from the early 80’s, a decade in which comprimise became overly fashionable.

Knightriders is B+ all the way.

With the budget of the average movie made in Hollywood today, any one person would be set for life. Between CGI and the salary of name brand actors, the numbers connected to any one production are astronomical, unthinkable twenty years ago. It’s practically a necessity.

Unless you’re Robert Rodriguez and manage to create and enormously successful franchise on $7000 because you made the unexpected hit El Mariachi.

Mariachi, as a musical style, involves a couple of guitar players, a few violins, a small acoustic bass and some really stylish outfits. It’s practitioners are street corner performers and buskers, iconic to the world’s perception of Mexico. The main character in El Mariachi is such a guitar player.

When we meet the Mariachi, he’s passing through a town trying to make a few dollars and get further down the path to stardom. The complication comes in the form of a hitman who keeps his guns in a guitar case. The mobster that the hitman wants dead mistakes the mariachi for his target, convinced in no small part by the fact the mariachi ends up with the weapon loaded guitar case. Gunfire and a love story follow soon after.

Anyone who sees this movie’s sequels (Desperado and Once Upon a Time in Mexico) will notice a distinct lack of Antonio Banderas. This is because the cast is full of the director’s friends. Originally produced for the Mexican direct to video market, this movie was made on a threadbare shoestring. It was only later that Rodriguez could afford the A-Listers.

The performances aren’t Oscar worthy, but they’re raw and very well done for the sort of film. There’s a lot of heart in this movie, not just a little drama and even some comedy. The plot occasionally feels like a lethal sitcom, but more often feels like a tragedy in addition to an action film. With this movie, less really was more.

The budget does show in some places, though. El Mariachi doesn’t feel polished or refined. It’s also a subtitled film, not so much a problem but something that American audiences usually like some warning about. 

Of course El Mariachi ranks B+ in my system, being a seminal part of the stripped down, edgy trend of bare bones, gutsy movies in the 90’s like Pulp Fiction. This movie proves that money doesn’t build films, but ideas and that every once in a while, the unknown director or the no name production company pulls something amazing out of thin air. And that’s a reminder that idea starved Hollywood could use before it gives us another bad remake of some 80’s TV series, don’t you think?

I studied the martial arts for a couple of years formally and have had an interest in them all my life. The grace, power and majesty of a person well trained to do extraordinary things is something to admire regardless of what those things are. When the thing is turning an opponent into a crumpled ragdoll who should be reviewing his life choices while his bones knit, that’s just bonus.

The glory of the martial arts is something that many have tried to convey on film.  When it’s done poorly, you see a few guys beat up on other guys in over extravagant or lame fashion and hold that action up like it’s enough to keep you in your seat for 90 minutes. When it’s done well, you get something like Redbelt.

Redbelt focuses on Brazilian Jui-Jitsu instructor Mike Terry (played by the amazing Chiwitel Ejiofor of Serenity and Love Actually). Terry takes his art seriously and sees it as a way to a better life as much or more than a way to dismantle his fellow man. His school is barely hanging on financially, partially because of his idealism which sits none too well with his wife and business partner.

Terry stops a bar fight and in the process impresses an action movie star, a situation that leads to some lucrative possibilites for Terry and his wife. The light at the end of the tunnel, turns into an oncoming train and Terry finds himself forced to do something he did not want to do: Enter a Mixed Martial Arts tournament, which holds the promise of a full purse and the end to his financial difficulties but also tests his resolve as a man and a warrior. Whether the tournament will be his triumph or downfall is the question driving the whole story.

Redbelt is not your standard kung fu flick (aside from the fact that the main character doesn’t practice Kung Fu, but a form of South American wrestling). It’s not a martial arts film, but a drama that happens to include martial arts. If taken from this perspective, it’s a moving and powerful movie but unfortunately not a perfect one.

The movie’s pacing is a bit odd. The first two thirds of the film is basically the set up, which gives us a great deal of time to get to know the characters but at the same time makes us wonder if they’re getting to a point. Also, while much of the interactions between characters is vibrant and realistic, many passages of the dialogue (especially when it turned to direct plot exposition) seemed if not forced then a little too plain.

Terry as a character is very morally black and white, but the villians are also black and white and have little problem saying it, up to almost directly coming out with “Yes, I’m a villian. Here is how my villiany works. Here is why I think you will not be able to overcome my villiany.” With a character built on principle, this makes him seem more iconic. With a villian supposedly corrupt and double dealing, it comes off as simplistic.

These sticking points aside, Redbelt includes some wonderful acting, delivered with integrety worthy of the characters being portrayed. The action in the film is very realistic, virutally without embelishment. The story is honest, forthright,  and subtle; a tale of a knightly crusader in an environment hostile to his very nature, yet never overcoming him completely.

This movie had a host of real fighters in it, from MMA champion Randy Couture  to Guru Dan Inosanto, a man who has been a respected name in martial arts for over 40 years. The movie at times seems almost directed at the martial artists in the audience more than the average moviegoer, but never inaccessable to anyone. It’s a story about being true to one’s self, and that is something you never have to throw a punch to relate to.

I wanted to love this movie and I do, but as a reviewer I cannot say that it’s flawless. Redbelt is transparent, which lets you see it’s misses easily, but it also keeps it’s high points undisguised. As a result, it get’s a B from me. I would recommend this movie to anyone who’s stuidied the martial arts, anyone who has felt the practical infringe upon principal and anyone that hopes that at the end of the fight, skill is still required to take home the prize, but just as much it requires heart.

It’s likely you ‘ve heard the phrase “But what I really want to do is direct”. I don’t know where the cliche started, but there’s always a little fear in my heart when I see a movie directed by a former actor. Some do very well (like Ron Howard). Many produce self indulgent movies of little value except as fodder for MST3K parties (like say, Kevin Costner, save for the notable exception of Dances with Wolves). The best way I can still my concerns is to remember some actor/directors take their work in ways that border on twisted genius.

Danny DeVito falls into that third category. I offer as proof the 2002 dark comedy Death to Smoochy.

Death to Smoochy is set  in the behind-the-scenes world of children’s television, the sort that involves big foam suits and cutsie songs about how to feel good about yourself. We meet Rainbow Randall (played by the brilliant madman Robin Williams) who on screen is a bright and happy source of joy, but after the costume comes off turns out to be a hard boozing, corrupt jerk. He gets fired from his show for taking bribes to get kids in the audience more on screen time and the network, full of people just as corrupt and more concerned with selling merchandise than producing a good show, now have to find a replacement. They take on a seemingly simple do gooder (played by Edward Norton) who sings to recovering addicts at a methadone clinic and turn him into their next star and fiscal mascot, Smoochy the Rhino. But when Smoochy turns out to be a true believer and resistant to the pressures the network is putting on him, things turn ugly and soon the mafia is involved and someone’s got to die.

Wow.

There is so much to like in this movie. Norton and Williams are brilliant in their parts. For that matter so are Catherine Keener (who plays the dead hearted producer of Smoochy’s show), Danny Devito  (a two faced advocate for Smoochy), Harvey Fierstein (mobster) and Jon Stewart (who is quick to point his out as one of his only movie roles). In fact, everyone who is on the screen plays their part to an absurd level of competancy, skill and talent.

The movie does well with always keeping your suspension of disbelief on the edge but by always threatening to go from the bizarre to silly,  it makes the strange situation all the characters are in more real. There are a couple of places where you expect the actors to crack up and look at the camera to say “Do you believe I’m saying this?” but those pass quickly and soon you’re back into a macbre yet hillarious ride.

Death to Smoochy  could have easily been a throw away gag movie, like any of the gross comedies or lesser Adam Sandler movies of the past decade. Instead, it turns into a twisted, pleasantly enjoyable experience. Death to Smoochy is very much a B+ movie and recommend it to almost anyone with a sense of humor.

Rent it. Jon Stewart could always use the extra royalties.

Modern art often baffles me. I look at finished work and my eyes flow over the canvas without finding anything to hold my attention while the voice in my head says “nice background, but when will it be done?” I can’t deny the value of modern art or that it is a legitimate movement or even that there is value in pushing boundaries and breaking rules to make people redefine their perspectives of what art is and can be.

Some of that rhetoric is in place in the 1996 movie Basquiat.

The title character of this biopic, Jean-Michel Basquiat, was an influential artist in the 1980’s and a contemporary of Andy Warhol. He started as a graffiti artist, then went on to be a musician and then later became not only a notable painter, but an influence to other artists for years to come and likely years into the future.

Julian Schnabel directed this movie, a fan of Basquiat’s work, and attempted to tell the story of this figure’s work.  The tale is a fairly classic “poor boy makes good” tale, starting with Basquiat living on the streets in New York and rising quickly to the status of the art elite. Jeffery Wright plays the artist, his performance making Basquiat seem an etherial character, two seconds out of sync with the rest of the world and because of that distance, he’s granted magnificent perspective. The character is not without faults, appearing selfish one minute and tragically naive the next, but for the most part he comes across as a haunted genius, a waif and tortured visionary.

The problem is that this is apparently not the Basquiat that his friends and family knew.

I normally don’t read reviews before I write them, but I did go looking for comparisons between Basquiat and the movie’s namesake. From critics to Jeffery Wright, there is a consensus that this movie is less history and more interpretation with just a bit of the director’s ego thrown in. This doesn’t rob the film of entertainment value but it does mean that one should not take it as the source of all truth about Jean-Michael Basquiat. Basquiat’s actual paintings aren’t even in the film, as his family would not give the director license to use them.

The film is largely pushed along by the fantastic characters such as David Bowie portraying Andy Warhol and Michael Wincott playing a flamingly gay art critic named Renee Ricard.  There is a great deal of powerful acting in this movie though the story lags in places. When we get to the predictable descent portion of the film, the director wants us to feel sorry for Basquiat which in some ways seems to contradict the feel of triumph and innovation we’re presented with in the beginning.

Whether you like modern art or not, Basquiat is a film worth watching though it must be taken as a seperate animal from the person upon which it is based. Basquiat gets a C from me. The art, however, gets a lightning bolt and tab from a soda can. The fish.

The problem with biographies is trying to remember that they are not documentaries. They are tales of specific people, dramatized as to be entertaining, as opposed to direct reporting of facts or moment by moment history. If told well, then they can make an interesting story out of even the most dull or familiar subject. If told poorly, it doesn’t matter how interesting the subject of the biography is… we won’t be interested.I figured this out while watching the Oscar nominated film Kinsey.

The Dr. Kinsey mentioned in the title did absolutely groundbreaking work on sexuality. That his work was revolutionary can hardly be debated, but Kinsey isn’t concerned with how important the doctor was. The question is can his life be made dramatic?

And the answer would appear to be yes.

Kinsey follows the title character (played by the outstanding Liam Neeson) from his boyhood through his career. The Kinsey of the biography is both detached from and immersed in his subject and the story gives no small amount of emphasis to how his pursuit affects his home life and relationships, his reputation and his character. While much is said about his work, the man too is displayed, some times at the forefront and sometimes in the spaces in-between the discussion of the science.

The star power in this movie considerable and every member of the cast gives an outstanding performance. Every award this movie has won or for which it has been nominated (including Golden Globes and the aforementioned Oscar nod) it comes by honestly. Laura Linney is approachable, sexy and dignified as the wife of Dr. Kinsey, a participant in his research. Peter Sarsgaard plays Kinsey’s student and assistant, a man who eventually becomes his lover. Other actors include Tim Curry (as a professional adversary), Timothy Hutton and Chris O’Donnell (also working alongside the doctor), and John Lithgow (Kinsey’s repressed and oppressive father).

There were moments in this movie that made me feel warm and fuzzy, others that made me feel tingly and at least one that made me misty eyed. Where Dr. Kinsey is seeking answers to questions of biology, the actors tell an emotional, moving story. The drama of their situation breathes life into the raw data and statistical analysis that became Kinsey’s books, putting it in a framework of time and place.

The only warning I would give the viewer is that this movie is not for the squeamish. It has more erotic moments than many pornos, more nudity (male and female) than some locker rooms and discussion of sex in both clinical and colloquial terms in virtually every scene. These elements, while at times titillating, never distract from the story but rather are an essential tool in the telling of the narrative. In fact, the on screen sex, deglamourized and very realistic, connects us to the characters in ways that feel intimate; ways that not so much just tell us their story but also involve us in it.

The reason I was willing to review Kinsey was because despite superb acting, engaging direction and honest visuals the subject matter alone of the film may push it to the fringe of cinematic experience. Like the title character, this film is uncompromising in its honesty and boldness, and honesty tends to either strongly endear or strongly repulse those who hear it.

Those seeking out this movie for sex scenes alone are likely to be disappointed. Those seeking it for the history are likely to be scandalized. The audience for this movie is small, but those willing to dive head first into Kinsey will be rewarded with a stimulating and poingant tale about amazing moment in the science of human sexuality and the people that made that moment happen.

While I doubt the cast and crew need another award to prove that their movie was amazing, I never the less add a B+ to its list of honorifics. Kinsey is not a movie about sex, but about a man. I give it my highest mark because in introducing us to that man without flinching, this movie made me care about him and his world, not just the mark he left on the study of one small part of it.

Monday, I talked about Japanese Animation and gave a very easily accessible and understandable example of the medium. Today, I’d like to talk about another classic of Anime that’s just a bit less accessable.

I speak of fanboy favorite Akira.

Akira is the sort of anime that makes it hard for westerners to accept cartoons as serious stories. It’s a very pretty film, but the story has a steep learning curve that gets even steeper if you have no clue about Japanese culture. The fact that it’s one of the three or four movies that’s on everyone’s Anime 101 list attests to its importantce, but it’s as likely to leave you scratching your head  as pumping your fist.

The story of Akira starts with three very different groups. The first is a bunch of pill popping juvenille delinquent bikers, the second is the military government and the third is a group of revolutionaries and/or terrorists. The three come together when a biker (named Tetsuo) crashes into an albino toddler (formerly in the care of the government) that had been sprung from incarceration by the revolutionaries. Everyone involved survives, but Tetsuo gets dragged off by the government along with the escapee. Another biker, the alpha delinquent Kenada, joins up with the revolutionaries, his motivations more that he wants to sleep with one of them than he’s trying to find his friend and gangmate.

Somewhere in here is where the psychic powers come in.

You see, the albino toddler is part of a small group of powerful psychics. Coming into contact with him awakens Tetsuo’s hidden potential. Tetsuo also has a major case of self esteem issues which once combined with ridiculous amounts of ability to do cool and vicious things rapidly turns into a bloody mess.

In the meantime, the government is collapsing, cults are on the rise and giant teddy bears are showing up for no good reason. And all of this has something to do with Akira, who may be a god or may be a bomb or may be just a guy but is definately responsible for blowing up Tokyo at some point in the past.

Confused? Right there with you.

What makes this movie worth watching, first and foremost, is the the amazing visuals used to tell the story. The streets of Neo-Tokyo are very real, even if they contain guys with laser rifles and punks on electric bikes. The characters are beliveable, with understandable motivations and reasonable reactions to situations both fantastic and mundane.

If you can get past the premise, Akira is worth watching once or twice. I won’t debate on dubbed versus subtitles, though the remastered version from 2001 may be worth a look. Also, this might not be a bad one to experience before they do a live action version, a project that has been in the works for some time and currently scheduled for 2011.

Akira gets a B from me, mostly for being almost incomprehensibly weird even if it is held together by unimanigable coolness. Check it out  for the experience, but if at the end you’re sitting on the couch wondering what exactly it was you just saw, don’t feel bad. Most of us, even those who liked it, felt just the same way.

When I was a teenager, often my mom would ask me when I was going to stop watching cartoons. With Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or Thundar the Barbarian on the TV in the background, I’d say “never”. As I became an adult, I was exposed to Japanese Animation (Anime) and I found mature themes incorporated into the medium that grew along with me, allowing me to still enjoy animation while not having to only experience it as a tool for telling juvenile tales.

One of the first full length Anime works I saw, one that set high expectations for any other Anime I might watch. It was called Ninja Scroll.

Ninja Scroll is a period piece, starting with a ninja for hire named Jubei. He roams the earth, basically spending time being an unparalleled badass more concerned with fulfilling obligations than personal gain. He crosses paths with a ninja girl named Kagero who is on a mission to find out the truth behind plague that has killed a village. The two of them soon discover there’s much more to the death of the village than simple illness.

Jubei meets up with a government agent who presses him into service by poisoning him. The trio continues the investigation and soon find themselves facing a group of supernaturally powerful warriors, one of whom has a history with Jubei. The more they find out the more danger they find themselves in and the price of knowing what is really going on just might be their lives.

Ninja Scroll is remarkably accessible for western audiences as compared to some other Anime which practically expects you to have a native understanding of Japanese folklore and social idoms. Ninja Scroll runs like a pretty standard action movie and displays just how much violence and drama you can pack into a cartoon.

In addition to being beautifully told, it’s also beautifully presented. The approachable nature doesn’t get betrayed by the fantastic elements (including a villain who can turn his skin to stone and another that is capable of electrocuting people with the just a length of wire and his force of will). On the other hand, the fact that it is a cartoon doesn’t dull the edge of the very bloody violence nor the near rape scene nor the sex scenes nor any of the other elements to this rich piece of animation.

Anime has influenced western cinema for years now, like The Matrix or even has been adopted whole cloth, like The Dark Knight prequel, Batman: Gotham Knight. If you wish to delve into this art form but don’t want to have to already understand the significance of giant drops of sweat and spontaneous nosebleeds, then Ninja Scroll is a excellent, if brutal, starting place.

And for that reason I give Ninja Scroll a B+. And not because I fear the Shadow Warriors coming after me for rating it lower. Definitely not.

Roger Ebert, undoubtedly one of the most influential movie critics of my lifetime, was ragged on for reviewing a movie of which he watched only 8 minutes. Now while it’s said one never has a second chance to make a first impression, seeing less than 10% doesn’t usually constitute a proper basis to judge its merits, even if you have seen every movie since the invention of celluloid. Ebert went back, watched the film and apologized for cheating on his first try, basically I think to maintain his cred as a reliable critic.

This is why I usually don’t review movies I’ve not sat entirely through… until today. This friday’s blog gets you a three for one sale, the length of each review corresponding to about how much time I spent watching it.

First up is Strangeland, a film made by Dee Snider, former lead of the band Twisted Sister and hair metal DJ of 2009. I’d been interested in seeing this film, but only caught the last half. The story centers around a sadistic madman calling himself Captain Howdy who likes to play BDSM games with people but isn’t necessarily big on getting their consent first. According to the media I saw about it before hand, it starts with a young girl (the daughter of a cop) meeting the Captain online and getting sucked into his world.

Where I picked it up Howdy had gotten caught, incarcerated, determined to be insane and then released after he forgoes the Captain Howdy persona for his more mild mannered real name. The normal folk of the town can’t stand the thought of leaving him alone which inadvertently brings Howdy back to the surface and starts another string of violence, peircing and seeking after the teen girl from the half of the movie I didn’t see. Her father, the police officer, must once again leap to action and save his little girl from the tattooed and pierced monster that is Captain Howdy.

Dee Snider plays the  villian of Strangeland and does it well. Captain Howdy is genuinely creepy, threatening and believably threatening with just a touch of visionary madman, enough to make you think he’s kinda cool if he wasn’t raping girls and poking people with long needles. On the other hand, the movie makes use two contradictory cliches, marring its edgy, avante garde nature, namely that 1)People into bondage and peircings are always bad and 2)the freaks are always persecuted by the rednecky straights. Both cliches are presented in such a blatant, over the top fashion that you take them for granted (partially due to the excellent talents of Robert Englund) and it’s only until later that your preconceptions have been prayed up.

Strangeland, despite its flaws, gets a B+ from me. Go Dee Snider. Next.

The Devil’s Rejects is the sequel to the 70’s horror homage House of 1000 Corpses. Rockstar/Producer/Director Rob Zombie put this retro, ready-for-grindhouse movie onto screens at a time when I was already becoming bored with torture porn like Saw and Hostel, not because they’d lost their bite, but because watching people be savaged for two hours just seemed less enjoyable than other things people might do on film.

Picking up where it’s predecessor left off, The Devil’s Recjects starts with a family we met in House of 1000 Corpses of sadistic rednecks who have killed enough hapless teenagers to finally bring down upon them a fanatical cop who wants to see them dead more than he wants to see them arrested. Many of the family are caught or killed in the first few minutes of the film, leaving three to hit the road and go on the run.

Featuring Sid Haig (B movie god), Bill Mosely (also of B+ Movie Repo: The Genetic Opera) and Sheri Moon-Zombie (Rob’s wife), The Devil’s Rejects has some intense and believable performances. It also has just enough gore to remind you of the first movie and enough gun play to distinguish itself from it’s origins. The movie attempts to blur the line between the heroes and the villians of the piece, but when one of your main characters has a thing for cutting off people’s faces and wearing them, such lines are less likely to be blurry and much more likely to simply denote the people in the movie we despise from the people we simply dislike.

I only saw the first half, up until the point where the audience is supposed to start relating to the murderous trio and while I’m told the finale is kind of touching, I don’t think I’ll be missing out by not going back for the rest of it.

Rob Zombie did succeed though, in making the grade of movie he wanted. This is one reason the half watched The Devil’s Rejects earns a B from me.

And finally…

I caught about fifteen minutes of Never Cry Werewolf on the Sci-Fi channel one night. It was enough to make me convinced that whoever green-lit a remake of Fright Night with Kevin Sorbo as the most notable actor and a werewolf instead of a vampire as the villian might not have been completely in the wrong, but whoever then let them take this concept and make a poorly acted, poorly shot and poorly scripted monster movie afterwords should be tied up with leg warmers and pelted with Rubik’s cubes for assaulting one of my teenage favorites.

Never Cry Werewolf gets a D from me, not sinking any lower because I’m giving it the benefit of the doubt that the majority of the movie that I didn’t see contains something of redeeming value.

Any of these you think would have gotten a better rating if I’d watched the whole thing? Feel free to comment below.

When I was a kid, I never understood why the Oscar always went to the biographies over the sorts of films that I liked. I didn’t understand what went into Ben Kingsley’s portrayal of Gandhi or F. Murray Abraham’s skillful work as Salieri in Amadeus. Besides, those movies didn’t have explosions or swordfights or superpowers or anything that I understood to be special effects.

Perhaps I’d have developed an apprecation at a younger age if I’d seen more biographies like The Libertine.

The Libertine first came to my attention because it was to feature a guy-guy kiss with some actor and the always entertaining Johnny Depp.  It was enough to make me wonder what sort of film it might be, enough to make me record and watch it, even if, alas, the scene was cut. What wasn’t cut, however, was the great deal of guy-girl kissing that went on, along with far more explict sexual themes, fighting, drinking and general examples of bad behaviour.

The movie’s subject is John Wilmot, The Earl of Rochester, who was a poet in the 17th century and a notorious scoundrel. The first scene is Rochester, played by Depp, staring straight into the camera and explaining that we will not like him, that’s okay and that despite that we’ll want to sleep with him and that’s okay too. Thus the tone is set for a tale of drama, debauchery and tragedy.

Not a light hearted picture by any stretch, it does feature some fine acting and some truly beautiful sets. In addition to the excellent work of Depp (even if he is using much the same accent he uses for all English charcters of his), there is some fine work by John Malkovich as King Charles II. The film is blatant and honest in its storytelling, exposing us to both the good and bad in the characters and doing so honestly, allowing us to make up our own minds with a minimum of bias.

The pacing of the film is good and the majority of the interactions between the characters are very believable, though there’s a climactic scene that takes place in parliment that seemed a little forced to me. That said, there’s little in which to be disappointed where the story is concerned. It’s not a happy tale but it is an understandable one.

The Libertine presents John Wilmot as a sort of 17th century James Dean, a rock star amongst poets, reveling in his wantoness and imperfections while, able to let you know up front that he’s a horrible person, use that fact as an attraction and when the truth of it comes to pass then simply ask what it was you expected. His story is one worth hearing, either as entertainment or warning, and the version of it that was brought to film presents it in a way that is very pleasing to the eye.

The Libertine gets a solid B+. Even if it could have used more explosions. But then again, so could have Gandhi.