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)