Part of me cringes at this movie's meanspirited treatment of its subject. I wouldn't call myself a Valentino fan and in real life he didn't always make the brightest decisions, but holy crap, this film makes the guy out to be the most pathetic, colorless moron. It's largely due to the writing, but Nureyev's terrible, inexpressive acting doesn't help. He sells none of Valentino's famous sensuality or charisma. About all we get is his dancer's grace, the only thing Valentino and Nureyev seem to share.
The movie is meant to be a grotesque satire of Hollywood fame. Valentino's lovers and friends show up at his funeral more for their own publicity than to honor him. Fans treat him as a god and the haters view him as a symbol of unwelcome foreign effeminacy. Both views dehumanize him. In real life, Valentino was perceptive enough to know he was little more than a "portrait onto which women paint their dreams." The flesh and blood man matters little to the masses, even as they go into a frenzy over his onscreen image.
Too bad this movie is too busy being a vulgar, grotesque circus, too shallow and juvenile to say anything meaningful-- and unlike Russell's other films, this isn't even a fun circus. The script is full of bald exposition and name dropping that'll only register with silent movie geeks. And for the audience to get upset at Valentino being objectified by everyone around him, he needs to actually come off as an interesting, sympathetic character and not a pathetic punching line.
The movie is meant to be a grotesque satire of Hollywood fame. Valentino's lovers and friends show up at his funeral more for their own publicity than to honor him. Fans treat him as a god and the haters view him as a symbol of unwelcome foreign effeminacy. Both views dehumanize him. In real life, Valentino was perceptive enough to know he was little more than a "portrait onto which women paint their dreams." The flesh and blood man matters little to the masses, even as they go into a frenzy over his onscreen image.
Too bad this movie is too busy being a vulgar, grotesque circus, too shallow and juvenile to say anything meaningful-- and unlike Russell's other films, this isn't even a fun circus. The script is full of bald exposition and name dropping that'll only register with silent movie geeks. And for the audience to get upset at Valentino being objectified by everyone around him, he needs to actually come off as an interesting, sympathetic character and not a pathetic punching line.