Reviews
Amazon.co.uk Review
Add The Man from Elysian Fields to the list of essential movies about the pains of writing. This wry comedy-drama charts the frustrations of a financially strapped novelist (Andy Garcia) as he desperately and secretly agrees to be an "escort" for ladies who need, err, escorting. This leads him into a Faustian bargain to help a beautiful client (Olivia Williams) whose husband, a once-great, now-dying writer (a mighty James Coburn), is struggling with a final work. Of course the fact that the men are sharing a project and a woman complicates matters--and Garcia's loyal wife (Julianna Margulies) is curious about all these nights spent away. The movie explores different levels of compromise and betrayal, yet it remains tartly amusing throughout. And it has a glorious casting inspiration: the director of the mysterious escort service is played by Mick Jagger, looking decadently elegant and purring like a vaguely satanic Siamese cat. --Robert Horton
Synopsis
In this sophisticated saga, Andy Garcia (who also produced) plays a struggling author who reluctantly (at first) takes a job as a high-priced male escort to support his family. Rock icon Mick Jagger is Luther, his suave, enigmatic employer, and ex-E.R. star Julianna Margulies plays the wife kept waiting at home. It's a classic morality play given a modern twist as Byron (Garcia) ends up hired by the beautiful young wife (Olivia Williams) of famous, terminally old writer Tobias Alcott (James Coburn). Mr. Alcott is okay with the arrangement and even takes a shine to his wife's new "friend." Soon Byron is a near-permanent resident at their decaying mansion, helping Tobias finish his final novel in addition to bedding his wife. But if he thinks his ship has come in, Byron has some lessons to learn about a gigolo's place in the world. Lush cinematography and profound, witty dialogue are key here, with director Hickenlooper making good use of colour and composition to enhance the story. Performances are all fine, but the show is stolen by Jagger and Coburn. One campily posh, the other vibrantly crusty, the film lights up with old-school majesty whenever either is onscreen.