The Music Lovers (1971) review

Ken Russell does history his own way ... and who cares if it's even close to accurate? Tormented composer Tchaikovsky (Richard Chamberlain), not satisfied with his life as a homosexual, gets a love letter from an admirer (Glenda Jackson) who wants to marry him ... he accepts her proposal, but he can't satisfy her physical needs, and she appears to have extreme hang-ups about sex. Ridiculous and overbearing - Jackson's character literally claws at the carpet - and even though it is visually spastic (a trademark of Russell's filmmaking) it is hardly engaging on a human level, where both the musician and his "wife" are reduced (as characters) to their sexuality and not much else. I found it (unintentionally?) hilarious when Jackson's character strips naked on a train and writhes on the floor while Chamberlain's bearded genius screams in terror: gah, boobies! Gah, pubic hair! The horror, the horror!