The Libertine

Johnny Depp lends a touch of class to Laurence Dunmore's feature film debut, a raunchy, debauched yet rather grim costume romp adapted for the screen by Stephen Jeffreys from his own bawdy stage play.

Fans of the chisel-jawed, Oscar-nominated actor are in for a shock - several actually - and not just for the fruity language and explicit depictions of sexuality.

Depp throws himself into the lead role with gusto, swaggering through 17th-Century London with a twinkle in his eye and a seemingly endless arsenal of filthy-minded insults.

His good looks are eventually concealed beneath layers of make-up as his character is ravaged by syphilis, spending his pitiful, undignified final days in bed, before his death, aged just 33.

The Libertine's theatrical origins are evident from the very first scene, in which the ghost-like face of John Wilmot, the second Earl of Rochester (Depp), hovers in the darkness.

"You will not like me," he smirks in his opening monologue, confessing his lack of moral fibre and a penchant for shocking and offending everyone around him.

Wilmot is a man of his word and, sure enough, it's difficult to muster much affection or sympathy for the bounder as he gallops through various sexual liaisons behind the back of his dutiful wife, the heiress Elizabeth Malet (Pike).

Notorious, yet beloved by the common people and the court - not least King Charles II (Malkovich) - Wilmot plays up to his reputation as the scourge of London, winning the admiration of men and women alike for his daring sexual escapades and rapier-like wit.

The Earl's downfall begins when he falls under the spell of struggling actress Elizabeth Barry (Morton), who is loudly booed by audiences.

Wilmot makes a bet with his friends George Etherege (Hollander) and Charles Sackville (Vegas) that he can transform Barry into one of the finest actresses of her generation.

It's a wager fraught with peril but, as Wilmot confesses: "Any experiment of interest will be caused at your own expense".

Wrestling with his emotions for Elizabeth, the Earl foolishly agrees to write a stage entertainment in honour of the French Ambassador, conjuring up a bawdy spectacular which spares few blushes, least of all the King's.

The Libertine is awash with some great one-liners and the central character's disregard for convention is rather appealing. Unfortunately, the cinematography is somewhat murky and the two-hour running time becomes a slog towards the end, before a farewell monologue from Wilmot.

"What is happening in my mind is always much more interesting than what is happening outside my mind," he confides at one point. Regrettably, it's also often more interesting than what is happening on the screen.