Quentin Crisp was one of the last great wits. A man who lived through two lifetimes worth of adventures, yet this movie comes off flat, strained and art~sy (when it it obvious the director is aiming at art~ful). It would have been better if the director just allowed Mr. Crisp to speak for himself, but instead, we are given shots of people speaking into mirrors and sometimes even through them.
I had such high hopes for this film, but it was a remarkable let down. Still, it is a must for Quentin Crisp fans and I know there are many people who fit into that category. Buy it, if you must, but don't say I didn't warn you.
As a side note, and apropos of nothing, there is a fascinating (perhaps the film's single instance of such an event) and disturbing scene shot in the Bridge Water art gallery in New York. The superb, and at that time unappreciated artist, Patrick Angus, Quentin Crisp and a play-write go to the Bridge Water gallery to show the owner Mr. Angus' work. The gallery owner poo-poos it and dismisses it as overly sexual and not commercial. You can see the utter and undisguised humiliation in Patrick Angus' eyes, the pain of rejection and the almost palpable sense of worthlessness as his paintings are cast aside as so much rubish...the scene is a window into the pain and suffering artists are subjected to each and every day. Mr. Angus died of Aids in 1992 (that scene was shot and took place in 1988) and lived in poverty while his ouvre was only finally understood and appreciated as he lay dying. I suppose that scene alone makes the purchase of this DVD worth~while. For one brief moment, we can all share in the ignominy accorded artists by an all too cruelly-commercial world.