July 30, 1993 | Sally Potter’s film of Virginia Woolf’s Orlando is a bountiful feast for the eyes and mind, a witty respite for moviegoers weary of summertime kiss-kiss, bang-bang. And if it occasionally seems a mite too pleased with its own cleverness, well, that’s OK. It’s entitled.
The movie is a loose and largely updated adaptation of Woolf’s 1928 novel, which in turn was inspired by Woolf’s affectionate regard for author Vita Sackville-West. But don’t worry if you’ve never heard of Sackville-West, or even if you’re not familiar with Woolf — Potter’s Orlando can be enjoyed for its own merits without any knowledge of its literary or historical antecedents.
It is a time-tripping, gender-bending fantasia with a cunning feminist edge, featuring the strikingly androgynous Tilda Swinton in the title role. Orlando is introduced as a feckless 16th-century English nobleman — that’s right, a nobleman — who becomes a very special favorite of Queen Elizabeth I (Quentin Crisp, who would be the first to admit he is typecast as an aging queen). Elizabeth offers Orlando fabulous favors and property, but there’s a catch: ”Do not fade,” she implores him. ”Do not wither, do not grow old.”
For the next 400 years, Orlando follows his queen’s command. ”And since this is England,” notes the film’s narrator, ”people pretend not to notice.”
Centuries pass, Orlando evolves. He demands the love of a beautiful Russian princess (Charlotte Valandrey), claiming her affection is his just due simply because ”I adore you.” The princess, much to her credit, doesn’t accept this as reason enough. Years later, Orlando begins to see the error of his demanding and domineering ways, to the point of refusing to take up arms against other men in battle. The next morning, after he wakes up and looks at himself in the mirror, he sees ”the same person. No difference at all. Just a different sex.”
People do notice that, in England and elsewhere. But Orlando takes his transsexual transformation in stride. Indeed, in a series of elegantly mounted and playfully performed tableaux, Orlando parades through the centuries, brimming with enough self-confidence to rebuff the very sort of sexism she used to practice when she was a he.
Things take a particularly ironic twist when the Archduke Harry (John Wood), determined to make Orlando his wife, announces, ”I am England, and you are mine.” ”On what grounds?” Orlando inquires. ”Because I adore you,” Harry responds.
The more things change, the more they remain the same.
As either sex, in any century, Swinton offers a gracefully stylized and totally captivating performance, inviting the audience into her confidence and generously sharing her bemusement. She is especially winning when, at some point in the 19th century or thereabouts, a dashing American adventurer (Billy Zane) literally drops into her life.
With a quick wink-wink look at the audience, Swinton indicates that she cannot believe her great good fortune. Audiences who have the pleasure of her company for 90 minutes or so will know exactly how she feels.
