The Look Of Love Review

• 19th Aug 2013

Paul Raymond, the King of Soho was, for those who didn’t know at one point the richest man in Britain according to the end of the film. Many a red blooded male growing up between the 60s – 90s would have been in part responsible for helping towards that wealth by visiting his strip clubs or purchasing one of the myriad of top shelf magazines in the newsagent. He was the nemesis for moral preacher Mary Whitehouse. Paul Raymond began making his profession by staging controversial erotic review shows in coastal towns with his wife Jean (played by Anna Friel). He soon begins buying up property in London including the famous Raymond Review Bar in the centre of Soho (now home to Madam Jo-Jos) and very soon became the seedy toast of the town, bringing glamour to eroticism. He soon has a family, drives in a chauffeur driven Rolls Royce and lives in a big house. Jean is understanding and tolerates his infidelities but when they become a little more serious with a young nude model called Amber (who later became Fiona Richmond) in his big hit ‘Pyjama Tops’ she throws him out of the house and separates from him. Needless to say as well as his sexual exploits there begins a cycle of sex, parties and drugs taking that threatens to spiral out of control. But it isn’t Raymond himself who is vulnerable, but his 20-year-old daughter Debbie. She wants to follow in her father’s footsteps. He allows her to sing on stage so long as she doesn’t take her clothes off but condones and is aware of her cocaine intake; after all he would be a hypocrite to do otherwise. In time Raymond’s business empire expands with Raymond enduring a diffident relationship with family and the women in his life.

In many ways this film makes an interesting companion piece to his American erotica equivalent, Larry Flynt dramatised with Woody Harrelson in The People vs. Larry Flynt made in 1996. Of course there is a sense of humour in The Look of Love but there is an assumption that because Steve Coogan is in the lead that this is going to be a comedy, especially in lieu of the Alan Partridge revival with the recent release of Alpha Papa: Alan Partridge but Coogan attempts to portray the medallion wearing, scrape-over hairstyled tycoon as straight as possible with the humour coming through as that of a rather pathetic and shallow individual. This is part of the problem with the film for although prolific director Michael Winterbottom adds a great deal of style and accuracy to the time, place and biography of the film, he seems to be very self-conscious of not wishing to hit the audience with a sledge hammer moral message, even though this message can hardly be ignored. This was perhaps done more successfully with Coogan’s portrayal of Tony Wilson in a previous Coogan-Winterbottom collaboration, 24 Hour Party People (2002). However, one aspect many critics haven’t picked up on is the wonderful performance by Imogen Poots as the vulnerable Debbie Raymond who acts at many times like a spoilt brat that he would do anything for, calls her father “Pa” and seems to have Freudian death wish with coke the moment she makes her first snort.

The film seems to be at pains to tell the story accurately while keeping the central motif of Raymond’s ambiguous relationship with his family as the central motif. However, there are a number of holes in the plot that are not really resolved except via some written statements before the credits role such as Raymond’s pitiful illegitimate son and his daughter’s marriage to a Roy Wood look-alike hippy Jonathan (played by ‘The Inbetweeners’ Simon Bird). The extras on the disc are plentiful such as deleted scenes, a trailer and an abundance of interviews with cast and crew as well as a written timeline biography of Raymond. What is lacking however, particularly for those who may not be so familiar with Paul Raymond or even Paul Raymond Publications is a documentary about him and his career with plenty of footage. Or maybe even a pdf of old classic Paul Raymond publications, but maybe this would make it too top shelf prompting supermarkets to ask for the disc to be put in a plastic bag.

Chris Hick