Film Review | Behind the Candelabra

There's some smug enjoyment to be had in the fact that we get to enjoy Behind the Candelabra in the cinema. You see, the warts-and-all portrait of the real-life romantic relationship between star piano player Walter 'Mr Showmanship' Liberace (Michael Douglas) and his much-younger chauffeur-cum-assistant Scott Thorson (Matt Damon) was deemed too risqué for American cinemas, with director Steven Soderbergh in the end opting to take his last - supposedly ever - film to cable television giants HBO, thereby losing the possibility of having it shown on the big screen, at least Stateside.

But if anything is to be learnt from the two hours that follow the sparkling opening shots of 'Candelabra' and its melancholy closing chapter, it's that when it comes to sex (especially - whisper it! - gay sex) the Americans enjoy kicking up a fuss over nothing. Because - let's be blunt - apart from some (just-)off-screen thrusting, there's very little here that would legitimately shock the average filmgoer (be they American, European or otherwise).

What does emerge is Soderbergh's continuing (though sadly, if the seasoned, cross-genre director is to be believed, soon to be terminated) ability to depict dramatically charged stories about individuals in extraordinary - and sometimes outrageous - circumstances, all the while keeping an eye on what makes his characters tick and working up just enough suspense to keep us hooked.

But maybe one aspect of its 'TV-movie' nature does grate in the transfer to the silver screen. Though it revels in the ostentatious, diamond-encrusted glory that's part and parcel of Liberace's persona, and though it derives plenty of drama from the prejudicial social context in which it is set - and which our protagonists are forced to navigate through - there is a lack of dynamism in its pacing... as if Soderbergh just expected the story to tell itself.  

It's 1977, and orphan boy Scott - a lover and occasional trainer of animals - divides his time between his ranch-hand foster family, training dogs on film sets and frequenting bars he knows to be friendly to gay men.

During one night at the town, Scott's friend Bob (Scott Bakula) suggests they go see the legendary Vegas piano player Liberace. Scott - initially shocked at his friend's declaration that none of the attendees at the flamboyant Liberace concert are aware that he's gay - is instantly taken by the virtuoso musician, and an instant bond develops between the two men after they're introduced back stage.

A slow seduction turns into a turbulent relationship as the years go by. As the audience indeed goes behind the candelabra (a trademark of Liberace's piano sets), we see layer upon layer of Liberace's carefully constructed persona wither away... and his dark half is never too far behind.

Working off a memoir by Scott Thorson himself, it's no surprise that 'Candelabra' depicts Thorson as the injured party in this often-torturous pairing. But that doesn't mean Liberace is a boo-hiss villain through and through. Not at all, especially thanks to a truly marvellous performance by Michael Douglas (I'd argue that it's a career best, but I've never really been a fan of the guy, so my objectivity on this is sadly dented). Projecting both blistering on-stage confidence and a small, wounded, private individual through layers of tastefully applied and evocative prosthetics, Douglas somehow manages to be both sleazy and endearing at the same time.

It's fascinating to watch, even independently of the plot itself. Douglas redirects the venal macho energy that made his name in standout thrillers like Wall Street and Basic Instinct, and squeezes it out of an unforgettable combination of squeaky voice and penetrating glare, which could be either loving or cutting, depending on which wave or trough the turbulent central relationship is on at the time.

Liberace strives to be both a lover and a father figure to Scott - a fact that, creepily enough, he openly admits to. Creepier still is the moment he suggests Scott undergo plastic surgery to look more like Liberace himself - an experiment that the showman's go-to surgeon Jack Startz (a hilarious Rob Lowe) indulges with worrying readiness.

Playing boyfriend to such a borderline nut-job is no mean feat, and Damon's performance is necessarily a restrained one - particularly when compared to Douglas's justified over-the-top stylings - but he more than manages to hold his own against the ageing whirlwind he ends up attached to. Not to mention that his hissy fits are just chuckle-worthy.

As is the case with most biopics and/or based-on-a-true-story emotional epics, 'Candelabra' doesn't avoid that ironic pitfall: it slides into formula too easily (a common rhythm - naïve love putrefying into resentment and rotting further into hate). And perhaps he was taking it easy because he was pitching it for TV, but Soderbergh pads out the film way too much, flash-forwarding to landmark years in the couple's relationship with little care for the film's overall tempo.

But with a banquet this rich, who's counting?