O'Toole's 'Venus,' a Romance For the Aged

Peter O'Toole's baby blues and performance light up the engaging film "Venus." (By Nicola Dove -- Miramax)

Normally we'd balk at a movie about an 80-year-old man's infatuation with a teenage girl, but a geezer's lust is just the starting point for "Venus," an edgily charming meditation about the mysteries of attraction.

"Venus" is something of a philosophical un-romance, as the British filmmakers celebrate a spiritual connection between two generationally mismatched characters. But director Roger Michell ("Notting Hill") and scripter Hanif Kureishi ("My Beautiful Laundrette") take a deeper, edifying interest in the moral ambiguities that arise between Maurice (Peter O'Toole), a veteran stage actor, and Jessie (promising newcomer Jodie Whittaker), the 19-year-old grandniece of a close friend. And thanks to our warm investment in both characters, we're more than willing to sign up for this existential ride. We allow this relationship -- and the movie -- to take us places we'd never usually go.

Maurice is facing the final exit, both in career and life. He's also about to undergo prostate surgery that will almost certainly render him impotent. But when he meets Jessie, who has come to London to care for Maurice's fellow thespian Ian (Leslie Phillips), a new purpose fills his existence. Jessie may be sullen and lacking in sophistication, but Maurice sees her as an unwitting Venus, goddess of love and beauty. Call it goofy rapture or plain carnal attraction, his commitment to her is immediate and total.

If Jessie remained a mere object for Maurice's -- and the filmmakers' -- reverence, the movie would fail. But Jessie (imagine Tonya Harding with a northern English accent) has gumption, thank you. She soon takes charge of the relationship, helping herself to its perks: the plays Maurice takes her to, the clothes he buys her and his 24-7 attention. With an empowered Jessie roaming so free, Maurice gets a worthy adversary, and the audience gets the entertaining benefit of a fair fight.

As with their previous collaborations -- the 1993 British television miniseries "The Buddha of Suburbia" tackled post-colonial racism, and 2003's "The Mother" examined an older woman's lust for a younger man -- Michell and Kureishi make a virtue of their directness and obvious love of life's ambushes and unpredictability.

Thus, "Venus" for us becomes richer, not weirder, as Jessie allows Maurice a kiss of her shoulder and, later, even more intimate privileges, as their beguiling connection grows.

Even the coarse, bawdy humor adds, rather than detracts, from the film's charm. It comes across as the couple's personal Esperanto, a private language that shows how far things have evolved between them. So when Maurice uses stark, graphic language to tell Jessie which of her body parts he missed while in the hospital, rather than being taken aback we think of his frailty and love for her; it's a testament to the film's ability to lure us into their exclusive world.

What really lures us to "Venus" is O'Toole's performance -- his most endearing since he hit the floor face first in the 1982 comedy "My Favorite Year." Those baby blues that glistened in 1962's "Lawrence of Arabia" have lost some luster, and the skin is wrapped around his cheekbones tighter than a drum's, but the 74-year-old actor -- whose dabblings with wine and women, and his own life expectancy, have become legend -- still has the acting energy of his much younger self.

Whether he's trying to peep boyishly through a transom window at Jessie -- only to stumble into her room with slapstick klutziness -- or silkily explaining to Ian the Zen of his devotion ("It's a difficult thing, but I'm nice to her"), he's a graceful rascal who refuses to go gently into his own good night. And he gives the audience assurance against the dying of our light.

Venus (91 minutes, at Landmark's Bethesda Row) is rated R for profanity, nudity and sexual content.