A rather wan attempt to pump new blood into the vampire genre by injecting (no
pun intended) a druggie angle, The Thirst purports to be a harrowing
examination of two recovering drug addicts facing an entirely new sort of
“addiction.” It’s a tonal mishmash of gory set pieces, though, and a
movie that can’t really overcome the weight of its limited means, lacking as it
does a convincingly stylistic imagination and flair.

Directed
in slapdash fashion by Jeremy Kasten (All Souls Day: Dia de los Muertos,
The Wizard of Gore), the movie centers on recuperating junkies Max (Matt
Keeslar) and Lisa (Clare Kramer), who are having a tough time adjusting to
their new lives now that they’ve kicked their old habits. When a series of
tragic and sudden events threaten their lives, both are recruited into a clan
of sex- and gore-crazed vampires, led by the charismatic Darius (Jeremy Sisto).
Each depraved fix hooks the couple deeper on their new narcotic, human blood,
but Max and Lisa eventually begin to rebel against their horrific plight,
hoping that kicking this habit will keep them out of hell.

As
I’ve mentioned previously but will reiterate here, I remember flipping through
screenwriter-producer Mark Altman’s 1991 behind-the-scenes book on Twin
Peaks, and being wowed… by the number of typos and errors. Even for what
was obviously a quickie cash-in title, I thought at the time, this was slung
together in pretty haphazard fashion. The same might be said for quite a lot of
Altman’s hackishly referential writing for the big screen, which includes Room
6, starring Christine
Taylor; 1998’s Star Trek-inspired Free Enterprise; Uwe
Boll’s House of the Dead (and its sequel); and the recent Dead and
Deader. Altman is one of five credited writers here, and he and
his cohorts don’t do much beyond come up with nipped bits from other movies and
staple them together in an effort to bridge together set pieces. Director
Kasten, meanwhile, obliges his writers in canted-angle fashion.

A
few of the arterial sprays and dismemberments are enjoyable for diehard genre
fans, but the best that can really be said of The Thirst is that
provides work to a recognizable cast that is mostly above its value —
actors like Sisto (Six Feet Under), Keeslar (Art School Confidential)
and Kramer (Bring It On, Buffy the Vampire Slayer). Adam Baldwin,
Erik Palladino and such horror film veterans as Ellie Cornell (Halloween 4
& 5) round out the cast.

Presented in
1.78:1 widescreen, enhanced for 16×9 televisions, The Thirst comes
packaged in a regular Amray case that is in turn housed in a cardboard
slipcover with slightly raised lettering. Its supplemental features consist of an
audio commentary track with writer-producer Altman and composer Joe Kraemer,
and around 17 minutes of deleted scenes. There are also a DVD-ROM version
of the screenplay, trailers for other Anchor Bay/Starz genre releases, and a
gallery of still images from the movie. D+ (Movie) B (Disc)

Prodigiously talented and rakishly charming, if definitely a bit affected by years of hardcore drinking, Peter O’Toole is a classic guy’s guy, an old school entertainer cut from the cloth of thespians as rabble-rousing globetrotters. His renowned stage performances, though lost for the ages, live on in the memory and laudatory reminiscences of those who saw them. His film work, meanwhile, is no less unforgettable, including sterling performances in Beckett, The Lion in Winter, Man of La Mancha and The Stunt Man, to name a few. Then there’s the matter of 1962’s Lawrence of Arabia, which many consider to be on the shortlist for the greatest film of all time.



All of this is, in its own way, grist for the mill of Roger Michell’s Venus, a rich, frequently lewd and yet ultimately legitimately moving tale of doused March-December sexual attraction and unlikely mentorship that uses and plays upon an audience’s notion of O’Toole — working knowledge or mere impression, it doesn’t really matter — to bountiful, inspired effect. The film’s story centers aroundIan (Leslie Phillips) and Maurice (O’Toole), a pair of veteran actors whose comfortable daily routine of croissants, theater and cranky banter is disruptedby the arrival of the former’s teenage grandniece Jessie (Jodie Whittaker).Thinking that he’s getting a pliable live-in maid and cook, the self-involvedIan is absolutely apoplectic when confronted with the equally self-centered and mouthy Jessie — a thickly accented, adolescent jumble of laziness and hazy ambition who declares aspirations of being a model but seems quite content to merely lay around, snack and watch television. Maurice, however, displays an interest in Jessie that is equal parts academic curiosity and romantic attraction. He takes the unruly teenager under his wing, procuring a risqué modeling gig for her and buying her little knick-knacks. Naturally, degrees of mutual use ensue.

As penned by Hanif Kureishi, Venus is in essence a movie about life’s indignities, and how they visit and prey upon both young and old, frequently in indiscriminate fashion. Yet Venus never succumbs to mopey dramatic tropes, or indeed, even much melancholy; it’s spry, and a heck of a lot of fun. What you so strongly feel while watching the film — even if you’re unfamiliar with the rest of O’Toole’s filmography — is the force and weight of a life lived with full-tilt passion. That, and the tension that the movie achieves through its smart balance of aged contemplativeness and dirty-old-man creepiness, is what makes Venus a true beauty.

The film comes to DVD housed in a regular Amray case and presented in a 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen aspect ratio that preserves the scope of its theatrical exhibition. An English language Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track more than delivers on the movie’s scant aural demands, and optional English subtitles are also available. By way of supplemental extras, Michell and producer Kevin Loader sit for a somewhat lethargic joint audio commentary track (there’s no O’Toole, unfortunately), and a brief collection of time-stamped deleted scenes runs around four minutes and showcases a bit more interaction between Maurice and Ian. The chief bonus item, then, is a 14-minute featurette which includes cast and crew interviews, a snippet of Whittaker’s audition tape and some behind-the-scenes footage. B+ (Movie) C (Disc)