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Reviewed by Gary Meyer
(05/11/05)
(Thanks to an alert Editor-in-Chief for recommending this film.)
Two Anglican churchmen are discussing the perpetrator of a scandalous crucifixion portrayal. Long before Andres Serrano will submerge the crucified Jesus in urine, their concern is a 1912 pen and ink illustration entitled "The Crucified Venus," in which Jesus is replaced on the cross by a beautiful nude woman. The older Bishop of Sydney is surprised that the younger priest, Anthony ("Call me Tony") Campion (Hugh Grant -- Bitter Moon, The Lair of the White Worm, Maurice), is familiar with the artist's work. Tony replies: "I like to keep abreast."
That Sirens gets away with a line like that is partly due to Hugh Grant's goofy, impish charm, but primarily due to its very nature. Warm-hearted (not to mention well-breasted) and guileless, it's mostly set in a secluded enclave where sex is, for once, all good and blessedly unfraught, a magical realm where statues walk off their pedestals, blossoms drop single petals that enchant whomever's cheek they fall upon, and dreams seem real, especially the kind of dreams you never want to end.
Officially classified as full-frontal het-and-lesbian nudes-in-nature softcore, it's a much, much better film than it needs to be, combining a handsome production, stunning Australian scenery, fantasy, comedy, and whimsy. Supermodel Elle Macpherson gives a perfectly plausible performance. And there's a swimming hole. Yes, Sirens is that rarest of pleasures, a lagoon picture.
Priest Tony, freshly shipped to New South Wales from England along with his wife Estella (Tara Fitzgerald) -- they call each other "Pooh" and "Piglet" -- is given a special assignment. He's to visit the offending artist Norman Lindsay, whose oeuvre is rife with sex and sport and mostly lacking in garments, and convince him to substitute a less blasphemous work for exhibition. Said artist, played by Sam Neill (Wimbledon, Jurassic Park, The Piano), presides over a rural estate populated by two totally uninhibited models, his ex-model wife and two precocious daughters, seductive serving staff, salacious statuary, a cute Koala bear, a baby kangaroo, and a very large serpent. Not to mention the spiders, especially a breed that enjoys infesting the underside of the toilet seat in the thunder box. Tony's wife asks model Sheela (Macpherson) how you can tell they're there. Sheela replies, "By the screams."
Bumbling Tony's a progressive sort, even observing that the nude holds a rightful place in traditional religious art. But he's a fish out of water, outnumbered in this den of leftist iniquity, whose denizens can be every bit as self-righteous as the Church. "Imaginations are a luxury. Most people can't afford them," he's informed by the other model, Pru (Kate Fischer). In his studio, the artist rattles off Christianity's greatest hits: witch burning, the Inquisition, the slaughter of pagan tribes. Tony's about to rebut when he notices that the models have disrobed, which sets off a fit of stuttering. In a raucous dinner conversation, Norman berates Tony further: "You've kept the sensual side of life in the gloom. You've made it furtive and guilty...If God didn't want us to play with these parts, why did he make them so much fun?"
Sheela and Pru love to tease poor Giddy (Portia de Rossi), the housekeeper who models part time, but refuses to go nude. And now they have a pair of fresh victims to taunt, and bourgeois prudes to boot. At a picnic, closely observed by Tony and Estella, Sheela threatens Giddy with a severe tickling, cataloguing her embarrassed reactions. Pru launches into a strange speech about the aphrodisiacal properties of sea slugs:
"There are islands where the women gang up and ambush their favorite men. And feed them the longest sea slugs they can find. And the men get so incredibly hard, you can hang heavy clothes and jewels and necklaces from their erections."
Giddy: "Doesn't it hurt?"
Pru: "Excruciatingly."
Exhibitionism and voyeurism are the local sports of choice. Estella spies on Sheela and Pru playing strip poker with a couple of village louts. Buff, somewhat blind handyman Devlin (Mark Gerber) likes to whack off in the wild. What are the odds that Tony's Estella gets lost on a walk and catches him self-handling? Or that she happens by the studio when he's posing nude, pretending to be bound to a post, displaying a rather impressive trouser snake? Or that both she and Giddy fall for him?
Estella's finally convinced to don a party dress, which magically seems to release her inhibitions. She joins the models in their game of "tickle Giddy." Sheela observes Giddy's state: "You're getting slippery, aren't you?" What are the odds that Tony's watching?
The plot heats up. The models tie Estella to a tree for Devlin to free. She begins to have highly improper fantasies during a church sermon, even imagining she's standing there naked. To counter his wife's adventures and make a clean breast of things, Tony relates his old school's initiation ritual:
"We used to stand them on a chair, take their trousers down, whip 'em with wet towels while they recited Tennyson. You know, that sort of thing."
Estella: "Do I?"
The film winds down, rather than concludes. Okay, an hour and a half -- long enough for this sort of thing. But it's pulled off a rather neat trick. Amongst all the skinny-dipping, nude modeling, teasing, and tickling is the least pedantic biopic you've ever seen. Norman Lindsay was an authentic historical figure, a prolific artist and master of many media: oils, watercolors, etchings, sculpture. "The Crucified Venus" displayed in Sirens is an authentic artwork that caused an authentic scandal. The film was shot on Lindsay's actual estate in the Blue Mountains, now a gallery and museum. All those salacious statues are his.
Sumptuous, voluptuous, and captivating, Sirens doesn't really have much of a point, other than to spear a few sacred cows and enable a great deal of clothing-optional gamboling, frolicking, and romping in a splendid countryside with a perpetual whiff of lust on the wind. Sometimes, that's plenty.
