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The Libertine

March 18, 2006

Starring Johnny Depp, John Malkovich, and a lot of other people whose faces you’d recognize, but you’d have to look up on to remember why.

Squirrel sez: “Half an hour in, I was wishing we had gone to go see V for Vendetta.”
Bulldog sez: “It took you that long? 10 minutes in, and I thought ‘Great. I got roped into watching an hour and a half of artsy porn.'”

Sadly, this movie probably would have been better if it had been an hour and a half of artsy porn. The Libertine is artsy porn with way too much art, and not enough porn. Instead, we got porn, implied porn, midget porn, people failing at porn, pornographic plays, a few redeeming moments of decent acting, and Johnny Depp pretending to be a rotting corpse, probably the best acting he did the whole movie. All filmed in a pseudo documentary style, grainy film and all. Not that the acting was bad. It wasn’t. It was passably decent acting ruined by a very, very dull script. The most compelling acting in the whole movie comes from an actress portraying an actress trying to improve her art. The love story didn’t seem especially passionate, and the supposed redemption of the ending felt tacked on. The non-yawn worthy moments of the movie were few and far between. When the biggest reactions from the audience are delight at a play about dildos, and laughter over a dog shitting in the background, there’s a bit of a problem. The sexiest moment of a movie about a sensual and artistic man involved him groping his wife in his carriage ten minutes into the film. Considering Depp’s opening monologue warning the women of the audience to not like him for his sensuality, I expected to squirm in my seat because of the passionate dialogue, not because my ass was falling asleep. Not to mention the rest of me.

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