Orlando (the film)

Orlando is a 1992 film adaptation of Virginia Woolf's Orlando: A Biography. In his youth, Orlando is told never to grow old, so he never does. Many years later, he inexplicably becomes a woman. The film covers several centuries of Orlando's eventful life.

For the first half of the movie I was in love with it; Tilda Swinton is incredible as the mercurial title role, the rest of the cast maintained a fascinating androgyny, the costumes were beautiful, the camera work elegant. The script was strange and clever, and the plot moved with its own bizarre rhythms. I was entranced. 

Then Billy Zane showed up. 

Wow.

Billy Zane looks like he's spending all of his screen time working his ass off to maintain a sleazy half-smile. Each and every scene with him in it looks like it's taken from the cover of a paperback romance novel, right down to the leopard pelts and long locks of curly hair blowing in the wind. Tilda Swinton, who is otherwise excellent in the movie, seems to be barely containing her rage at having to share a scene with Billy Zane. He's clearly not giving her anything to work with, and she's supposed to be in love with the guy. No amount of acting on her part can convince the audience that this love is real. 

"No! Don't do it! Don't have sex with Billy Zane!" I shouted at the screen. My friends cringed and looked away whenever he spoke or showed his face. It was unbearable. 

When Billy Zane finally left, we breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

Then things got back to normal for about five minutes before an unexplained, horribly costumed angel sang a bad song and the movie was over. 

Final verdict: this movie goes so far off the rails that it's practically unrecognizable as the same film. Which is too bad, because I really liked it before Billy Zane showed up.