Despite a highly acclaimed career, Peter O'Toole has never won an Oscar (unless you count the honorary one presented in 2003--awards given when the Academy figures you're about to die without a statuette). The 74 year-old Irish actor still has something left in the tank. His grieving Priam grabbed the most memorable scene in Troy two years ago, and now O'Toole leads Roger Mitchell's Venus with a performance that justifiably earns its Oscar buzz. How fitting it would be to win "real" Best Actor honors for what may be his final leading role--that would be an Academy deja-vu scene played once before with Henry Fonda winning for On Golden Pond after carting home honorary gold the previous year.

On NPR's Fresh Aire, O'Toole described Venus' main characters as "a dirty old man and young slut of a woman," but that barely sniffs the surface. O'Toole inhales his character completely--suffering prostate cancer, Maurice is an aging actor now landing gigs as dying old men and corpses. Once strikingly handsome and quite a ladies man, Maurice is now impotent. That doesn't prevent him from appreciating the beauty of the female form, so he instantly becomes infatuated with Jessie (Jodie Whittaker), the grand-niece of his good friend Ian (Leslie Phillips). She's come seeking free rent in London to find work, hopefully as a model.

Petulant, potty mouthed, and initially repulsed by Maurice's not so subtle advances, Jessie warms to Maurice when he finds her a modeling job. This turns out to be nude posing for an art class, which humorously is Maurice's ploy to see the girl naked, but a tender relationship of sorts develops between the two. Jessie establishes boundaries, however, so the old man may be allowed to see but not touch on one occasion, to kiss a shoulder gently three times but nothing more, or to smell her neck but not taste. Maurice's lusts are clearly signaled, and he persists in pushing the envelop--receiving a swift elbow thrust to his ribs when going too far.

From a visit to the National Gallery, Jessie knows that "she" represents his ideal of beauty--from which the title of the movie is derived. But how does she handle this? She could easily manipulate the old man for financial gain. For the most part, Mitchell sensitively explores how Maurice's adulation plays out during the course of the film, navigating a tricky course between humor, poignancy, and despair.

Delightfully playing Maurice's grumpy theatrical friend, Leslie Phillips serves as comic foil and sharp contrast. We all know chronic complainers; Ian ranks among the best--his routine morning coffee meetings transform into witty bouts as he exchanges medications and barbs. His litany of grievances escalates after his niece moves in--her manner, music, and inability to make decent lemon tea or cook fish right.

Also complementing the script poignantly is Vanessa Redgrave as Maurice's ex-wife Valerie. Deep understanding remains between the two despite their separation, and she serves as meditative refuge whenever Maurice feels despondent. Without speaking we know that she realizes that Maurice is dying and realizes that he continues to pursue one last "muse" for his final fling. In contrast to this understanding "Earth mother," Jodie Whittaker plays her character initially with sullen, cold detachment--an effective ploy to indicate that Maurice's vision about this "Venus" are derived from his fantasies.

But this movie clearly belongs to O'Toole. He has saved some of his finest acting work for this period, deftly weaving between Shakespearean eloquence and foul-mouthed, witty old codger. Navigating dangerous waters with the 50-year generational gap romance that remains primarily unrequited and platonic, but not entirely, O'Toole deserves all the accolades he's getting and would be a most worthy Oscar winner. Unlike Fonda's swan song about a lovable old crank, O’Toole retains his libido and youthful thirst for romance despite his rapidly deteriorating physical form.