Ken Russell’s gloriously baroque extravaganza plays fast and louche with the life of Tchaikovsky, great and closeted gay Russian composer (Richard Chamberlain in a poodle wig).
We see him embarking on an ill-advised marriage with nymphomaniac Nina (Glenda Jackson, writhing naked on the floor of a train compartment), making it big with the 1812 Overture (sheer Monty Python, this bit) and dying of cholera, all in eye-popping colour with himself’s music emoting lushly on the soundtrack.
It’s unashamedly vulgar and, if you switch off critical filters, enormous fun.
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