He just doesn't know it yet.
Sir Robert Chiltern is a successful government minister, well-off and with a loving wife. All this is threatened when Mrs Cheveley appears in London with damning evidence of a past misdeed. Sir Robert turns for help to his friend Lord Goring, an apparently idle philanderer and the despair of his father. Goring knows the lady of old, and, for him, takes the whole thing pretty seriously.
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"Sir Robert Chiltern" (Jeremy Northam) is a British cabinet minister with a secret! He is determined that it remain exactly that - from his wife (Cate Blanchett) and from his political masters. Perhaps not too shrewdly, he turns to his rather underwhelming pal "Lord Goring" (Rupert Everett) whom he knows is well acquainted with his new found nemesis "Mrs. Cheveley" (Julianne Moore). With a parliamentary debate fast looming, and "Sir Robert" - in his role as a junior minister having a crucial role in a substantial government investment in Argentina - having to endorse or not, he finds himself in quite a quandary. Meantime, of course, "Goring" must try to help his friend whilst dealing with issues of his own with a disapproving father (John Wood) and poor old "Mabel" (Minnie Driver). What ensues here now is a lovely piece of Oscar Wilde satire that shines a light on a flawed political establishment with which he was probably quite well acquainted, and in which Rupert Everett shines. Though featuring only sparingly, he deftly portrays this outwardly lazy and spoilt gent with quite an engaging skill as we discover he is nowhere near as much of the hapless rake as he would have folks believe. His night of the visitors - when he must jig from room to room adopting a differing persona each time is really quite good fun to watch - and quite plausible too. The problem here is the rest of the ensemble. It's one of these sum of the parts scenarios. The big names are there, but the characters aren't. Moore really doesn't exude the Machiavellian nastiness I wanted from her and there's only so many times I can watch Blanchett do that thing with her eyes that is meant to suggest a myriad of emotions. Northam was only ever really adequate and here he fares no better, despite having a strong character to work with. I still think Wilde works best on the stage - there's a spontaneity there that makes his works sing. Here, it really only sort of murmurs with the odd potent spluttering of humour now and again. Looks splendid, though.
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