The Libertine

By: debbie lynn elias

Johnny Depp returns to the big screen in the first of two releases this year, The Libertine. In keeping with his chameleonic roles, Depp tackles the role of the wildly eccentric – and even pornographic – John Wilmot aka the Earl of Rochester. The time – 17th century England. King Charles II ruled the throne. As you may recall from your world history classes, the period is what was called the Restoration Era. Arts and science were the watchwords of the day and a new free-spirited, fanciful way of life began to take hold – and no one was more free spirited than the Earl of Rochester aka The Libertine.

Not one known to conform to the more pious and mundane way of life, John Wilmot relished the Restoration Era. A free thinking writer ahead of his time, Wilmot pushed the envelope of life farther than anyone dared. Known for his scandalous ways of life, the married Wilmot, who was typically in a drunken state of euphoria, excelled in debauchery, took Elizabeth Barry as his mistress, defied the crown and the court and survived on his wit, charm and self-serving money making schemes. From the start, Wilmot declares to all, “You will not like me, and I do not want you to like me.” As if to intentionally fly in the face of decency, Wilmot prides himself on his wanton, self-destructive ways and performs for all he knows with an air of proud defiance and decadence.

Johnny Depp once again immerses himself in the character, allowing the acts and actions of Wilmot to consume him to the point that you do not like the character he portrays. Perhaps one of the darkest performances we have seen from Depp in a long while, he is mesmerizing and I guarantee you will find yourself riveted to the screen as he embodies Wilmot, traversing into what at times seems like the bowels of hell. The one area where his performance may fall short, however, is the omission of and lack of attention to the physical decline Wilmot’s decadence takes on his body. Or does he? John Malkovich, who played Wilmot on stage, is exemplary as King Charles II. A more than worthy adversary for Depp’s Wilmot, the relationship between the characters has an empty feel despite the connection between Depp and Malkovich. Samantha Morton is more than noteworthy as Elizabeth Barry, but again, there is a hollowness in the performance when it comes to the character connection with Depp’s Wilmot.

Director Laurence Dunmore makes his debut with this film and it shows. Off to a rousing start at the beginning of the film, he never quite finds his footing with putting all the pieces together which I believe is the cause of the lack of character connection and an at times, feeling of displacement to the viewer. Dunmore develops the characters beautifully on an individual basis thanks to Stephen Jeffrey’s adaptation of his stage play of the same name, but then drops the ball when it comes to putting the pieces together. Aimless flip-flopping of the perspectives and personalities of each character without providing a solid background for the sudden changes, makes it difficult to comprehend the relationships on which this story is based. Concentrating more on creating visuals to depict the moral decay that rears its ugly head, we are given some great individual performances by the principals that are wasted by what I can only believe is Dunmore’s lack of experience.

Writer Jeffreys intensifies the predatory pornographic aspects of Wilmot in the film to such a degree that attempts to evoke any remorse or hope for redemption fall to the side of disbelief. Noticeably absent is any real insight into Wilmot’s career as a writer and the dialogue wavers from modern tones to old English. Perhaps he should have consulted Emma Thompson before undertaking this adaptation.

Despite its many flaws, The Libertine is a film worth watching, if only for the restorative talents of Depp and Malkovich.

Johnny Depp: John Wilmot Charles II: John Malkovich Elizabeth Barry: Samantha Morton

Directed by Laurence Dunmore. Written by Stephen Jeffreys based on his stage play of the same name. Rated R. (114 min)