Nowadays, we have superheroes. In 16th century Venice, apparently that role was filled by courtesans, if 1998's Dangerous Beauty is to be believed. Which it shouldn't be. This supposed biopic of real life courtesan and poetess Veronica Franco is such a softball, filtered, and sugared treatment, it's kind of hilarious. If you forget about that, though, it's a diverting little romance.
Catherine McCormack plays Veronica, whom we meet as an innocent young woman gazing in astonishment at the courtesans flaunting themselves on gondolas.
Amusingly, this film was lauded for its feminism but Veronica's whole motivation throughout the film is to win the love of a man, her childhood crush, Marco (Rufus Sewell). He's a senator and he feels compelled to marry for politics, as it turns out to an almost unrecognisable Naomi Watts.
Veronica's mother (Jacqueline Bisset) consoles her daughter, explaining she can still have Marco if she becomes a courtesan, as her mother was before her. Veronica is shocked to learn her mother was a courtesan, apparently having never had any hint of her mother's vocation in twenty or so years of associating with Venetian aristocracy. I guess people didn't like to gossip in 16th Venice.
If you believe that, maybe you'll believe the whirlwind training Veronica's put through in apparently a matter of weeks (incidentally, her father's never mentioned). Her mother has to explain to her that courtesans are the only women allowed in libraries but Veronica just takes it in stride when a naked man is suddenly in her home for training purposes.
I was talking to the screen at this point; "Who is this guy?" While Veronica's mother is going on about the importance of a courtesan expressing sensual pleasure in order to give sensual pleasure, I just kept asking, "Who is the naked guy?" Is he a male prostitute? Is he a john? Shouldn't Veronica's first time be something her mother asks a high price for? We never see the guy again or get any explanation. There are a lot of inexplicable things in this movie.
For instance, her sword fight with Oliver Platt, who plays a rival poet. Although this was apparently an unplanned duel, she rips off her skirt to reveal a pair of man's knee breeches.
Yet this is not worthy of comment. The director shoots around it a lot, it was difficult for me to get a screenshot. It's as though he was embarrassed. I wouldn't blame him.
The best is saved for the climax, though, when Veronica is put on trial for witchcraft by the Inquisition. The real Veronica Franco apparently was tried by the Inquisition, a scapegoat for the plague, but while Wikipedia suggests she was acquitted thanks to the influence of some of her important clientele, it's a safe bet to say it did not play out as it does in the film. In this version, Marco stands and declares his love and argues for the rights of women and demands respect for courtesans so convincingly that all the men in the room stand up in her defense. I'd be readier to believe she was rescued by Santa Claus. But if this feminist film accomplishes nothing else, at least it portrays men as pretty terrific.
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