Victoria (Jodie Foster), a foundling, is arrange-married to a New Zealand businessman with the romantic skills (and respect for women) of a Playboy club keyholder. By modern day standards Oliver Thompson (John Lithgow) is brutish, though not, it should be said, by the standards of the time. Victoria shows increasing regret at how things have turned out, amplified by developing feelings for Oliver's brother George (Dan Shor) who, whilst he's no Emmeline Pankhurst, does have the virtue of knowing where his heart is. We meet Thompson sr. (Harry Andrews) and it soon becomes clear where Oliver's idiosyncratic character got its template. Some more demonstrations of brutishness and Oliver's penchant for watching his wife through holes in a wall as she disrobes, a perversion that the demure Victoria finds unbearable. She decides to leg it to the US with George but they are discovered aboard ship and George gets accidentally clonked on the thinkbox with a candlestick. Oliver and his father smooth things over by simply sending his carcass to America without an explanatory note, or even, apparently, a moment's regret. Now in true bondage Victoria settles into the role of attentive wife, and she is so attentive that Oliver suddenly falls ill. Victoria begins to look extremely sinister (why is it that extraordinarily beautiful women can do the chilling psychopathic-slow-burn look so well?)
Along comes the perplexed doctor Finch (Philip Holder) to save the day. But the doc's hippocratic oath is slipping as he admires Victoria's shapely ankles while Oliver attempts to speak, "Gwarhf! Phlurg! Flumsh!" In a scene not for the faint-hearted, the doc offers some typically Victorian bedside manner: "Please try to keep calm. I know that it hurts." Now, let's whip the rest of those pesky teeth out shall we? Mercifully the tortured Oliver soon checks out and is solemly buried, presumably with his teeth in his breast pocket in an envelope marked "Choppers".
In the final scenes which bring us back to the point we came in, Victoria is on trial. The good doctor seems to vacillate between honouring his oath and failing to fend off the image of Victoria's dainty feet which is clearly burning a hole in his trousers. The gambit works and Victoria assumes her place in civilised society where we find George anxiously waiting for her.
Substantively that's the story but there were some issues. The acting was passable though perhaps below the standard we have come to expect from the leading pair. At the time I think Jodie was having doubts about staying in the biz and this was one of several ducks in the years before "The Accused".
The accents were all over the shop. I don't know why Victoria has a cut-glass English accent if she grew up in New Zealand unless the foundling home was staffed by ex Girton girls. (It was unclear to me if the foundling home was in NZ or Blighty) The Kiwi accent is a brave, if variable, try by John Lithgow but he sounds Australian as do other players who attempt to sound correct. To the educated ear, Kiwi and Aussie are vastly different accents.
The music is very strange; eerie when it needn't be and absent when eerie would be appropriate. The editing is either deliberately bizarre else done between (or during) bouts of heavy drinking. These become less of an issue as the film progresses, hinting heavily at a tight deadline and/or a sudden shortage of whiskey. New Zealand is far more beautiful than this film portrays and the under-use of the location is a pity.
It's not a film to be watched often, or indeed, twice. But it can faintly entertain the one time.
Along comes the perplexed doctor Finch (Philip Holder) to save the day. But the doc's hippocratic oath is slipping as he admires Victoria's shapely ankles while Oliver attempts to speak, "Gwarhf! Phlurg! Flumsh!" In a scene not for the faint-hearted, the doc offers some typically Victorian bedside manner: "Please try to keep calm. I know that it hurts." Now, let's whip the rest of those pesky teeth out shall we? Mercifully the tortured Oliver soon checks out and is solemly buried, presumably with his teeth in his breast pocket in an envelope marked "Choppers".
In the final scenes which bring us back to the point we came in, Victoria is on trial. The good doctor seems to vacillate between honouring his oath and failing to fend off the image of Victoria's dainty feet which is clearly burning a hole in his trousers. The gambit works and Victoria assumes her place in civilised society where we find George anxiously waiting for her.
Substantively that's the story but there were some issues. The acting was passable though perhaps below the standard we have come to expect from the leading pair. At the time I think Jodie was having doubts about staying in the biz and this was one of several ducks in the years before "The Accused".
The accents were all over the shop. I don't know why Victoria has a cut-glass English accent if she grew up in New Zealand unless the foundling home was staffed by ex Girton girls. (It was unclear to me if the foundling home was in NZ or Blighty) The Kiwi accent is a brave, if variable, try by John Lithgow but he sounds Australian as do other players who attempt to sound correct. To the educated ear, Kiwi and Aussie are vastly different accents.
The music is very strange; eerie when it needn't be and absent when eerie would be appropriate. The editing is either deliberately bizarre else done between (or during) bouts of heavy drinking. These become less of an issue as the film progresses, hinting heavily at a tight deadline and/or a sudden shortage of whiskey. New Zealand is far more beautiful than this film portrays and the under-use of the location is a pity.
It's not a film to be watched often, or indeed, twice. But it can faintly entertain the one time.