Behind the Candelabra

Too gay, was the reason Steven Soderbergh gave that “Behind the Candelabra” became an HBO TV movie rather than a wide released feature. And yet this biopic on Liberace’s relationship with Scott Thorson shoves the homosexual politicking to the background in favor of the more familiar trope of marital bickering. Although much of the film is enjoyable in that Mr. Showmanship way, this genre, unlike Soderbergh’s other recent genre experiments, does not fit him as well.

Although Liberace (Michael Douglas) was a skilled pop pianist in the ‘70s, his real claim to fame was his fine-tuned crowd work. We’re introduced to Liberace through a dopey Boogie-Woogie number in his Vegas stage show made fun through his simple pleasantries. It’s not that Liberace was the natural showman, but that everything he says here seems just right, and it’s no wonder he wins over Scott Thorson (Matt Damon) along the way.

The nuance of Michael Douglas’s performance, one that strays away from impersonation, is that he does feel as though he’s trying. It is a performance, no matter whom he’s talking to, and that shows. It’s when we’ve been around this act too much that it grows old and tiresome, and that’s exactly what happens to Scott.

Damon plays this country boy veterinarian full of nervousness and trepidation before growing into one of the more wacky, loses-his-shit performances of his career. You’ll observe the weight he puts on in a few scenes, the facial transformations he goes through and the numerous ‘70s hair styles, although none of them approaching the hilariousness of Rob Lowe’s ‘do later on.

And yet for its portrayal of all this opulence, Soderbergh, always the master of the overexposed wide shots, takes all the glitz and joy of Liberace’s more iconic on stage moments and reduces them into a ballad.

As “Behind the Candelabra” settles into a film of more modest proportions, it is both its virtue and its downfall. The film is supposed to feel cloistered to Liberace’s house, but it also ignores much of the broader controversy over the AIDS virus and the Harvey Milk led gay civil rights movement happening around it. It’s supposed to be drawing parallels to married life, and yet it suffers from clichéd tedium.

It even copies some of the same, awkward historical tendencies as the recent HBO biopic on Phil Spector. Both films have their main character reciting the Cliffnotes of their finest moments. This made sense with the wild egotist Spector, but does it work as well when the more measured, but lascivious Liberace does it? “You know, I was the first person who looked directly at the camera.” You don’t say?

“Behind the Candelabra” fits in nicely with the recent slate of movies about the “have-more” culture. “The Great Gatsby,” “Spring Breakers” and the upcoming Cannes feature “The Bling Ring” all come to mind. Maybe it’s HBO rearing its head over Soderbergh’s creative control, but the more mundane aspects of this gay relationship dominate, and “Behind the Candelabra” more often feels like an empty and overdone Vegas showpiece.

3 stars