3/5 stars

Proceedings at the 19th annual Bradford International Film Festival kicked off with Steve Coogan and Michael Winterbottom’s biopic The Look Of Love, a film in equal parts comedy and tragedy. The world of property mogul and smut baron Paul Raymond is introduced via a flashy opening credits sequence, and from there on the film simultaneously revels in and repels against the drab, dingy underbelly of 70s and 80s London. Everything in Raymond’s life is flashy to the point of grotesque; from his gold-painted strippers to his headache-inducing taste in interior design. The excesses of Raymond are juxtaposed both with the inherent naff-ness of 80s Britain and the increasingly tragic events in his life, particularly the story of his daughter Debbie (Imogen Poots), for whom Raymond’s excessive spoiling ultimately led to self-destruction. During the film’s opening sequence, we find Raymond as an old man lamenting his grief, watching videos of his daughter on a television which pointlessly emerges from a faux-Tomorrow’s World table. This is both a killer comic beat and a reminder of the all-encompassing lifestyle which Raymond can’t escape even in grief. In other words, it’s Scarface as played by Alan Partridge.

Much like Raymond’s life, there are flaws beneath the surface of the film. Many of these are caused by its Dickensian scale: We follow the ups and downs across Raymond’s life and with so many characters (many of whom are played by great British TV comic actors like Chris Addison and Simon Bird) coming and going some are inevitably given short shrift, so much so that you might have trouble keeping track of who’s who when they pop up again later in the yarn. Similarly, a few sub-plots are left hanging, and you might not feel like all the stories in Raymond’s life have been fully wrapped up by the time each character gets their compulsory biopic ‘Where are they now?’ card.

As part of the BIFF’s special event, screenwriter Matt Greenhalgh took questions at a Q and A after the credits rolled, and fielded challenging questions from some audience members regarding the film’s sexual politics and questioning the film’s comedic portrayal of a man who was both a pimp and a pornographer. The extent to which Coogan and Winterbottom focus on this aspect of Raymond’s life has already divided audiences, with one person asking Greenhalgh; “would it have been that way if a woman had written it?” In portraying Raymond’s excesses, though, the film never becomes gratuitous, since the tragic consequence of Raymond’s life is made clear from the opening portrayal of him alone, empty and despondent in his old age, an image which haunts all the revelry that follows.

 Sean Hayes