Based on a novel by Gilbert Adair, the film is carried by John Hurt's masterful performance of an ageing widow from another era who discovers modernity (and his hidden inclination) through his infatuation for a Hollywood teen idol (Priestley). Part 'Death in Venice', part 'Pygmalion', the film gently derides the British whilst poking fun at the Americans for their cultural shallowness.
Some actors steal your eye to the screen and Jason Priestley is not such a talent, though he plays one here. John Hurt has always been a possessing presence and his leading role here is no different, almost singlehandedly shaping the story into something that shares his deadpan quirk, sparkle of eye and nascent vulnerability. Hardly beatific even in his prime but a hell of an actor.
Ingeniosa comedia que hace su propia versión moderna de "Muerte en Venecia". En paralelo a la fascinación de un maduro escritor por la belleza juvenil de un completo desconocido, está esa representación de dos mundos paralelos. John Hurt (quien está genial) protagonizando a ese extremismo conservador que se inclina por la vanalidad y el consumismo. Es la obstrucción dincluso de la misma tragedia y la muerte.