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“It has recently come to my attention that I may never again have power over another human being.” So says Rachel Weisz, draped in a baggy, dated white nightgown, directly to the camera in the opening moments of Vladimir, Netflix's latest daring, transgressive, sexed-up, offering. An adaptation of the novel by Julia May Jonas, Vladimir is a bold tale that dares to dig deep into those taboo, unspoken feelings that so often come with female middle age: namely, the feelings of being invisible, forgotten, irrelevant.
This specific middle-aged woman is a creative writing professor. As the series goes on, we learn that herm husband, John, also a professor, is being investigated for previous affairs with younger female students. Meanwhile, she develops an obsessive crush on the new young, hot 30-something-year-old professor Vladimir (Leo Woodhall), who has come to town with his equally young and hot wife, Cynthia (Jessica Henwick).
Jacob and Margot ain't got nothing on these two.
From the very beginning, her role as the middle-aged frump is made very clear. As she explains in her opening monologue, she feels old. Out of touch. Put out to pasture. Her students have lost respect for her work and her grown-up daughter has lost interest in her. And her body has become the physical reminder of her own irrelevance: “While it may be possible that a man may make a concession for me,” she says mournfully, “I may not be the cause of a spontaneous erection ever again.”
Hang on a minute. Let's be serious here. Conceptually, this an interesting point. But in this case, hearing these words come out of the mouth of Rachel Weisz, (objectively, one of the most beautiful women you've ever seen, no matter how dowdy her nightgown may be) is laughable. Are we really meant to believe that Rachel Weisz is the perfect picture of middle-aged frumpy, sagging irrelevance?
Jonas' novel that inspired the series is all about bodies. The “firm cheeks” and toned “dancer's legs” of Cynthia. The “pencil legs, rounded hips” and “lean flat stomach” of a young female student. The “firm and hirsute” chest of Vladimir. And, of course, Weisz's character, with “webbing” around her eyes, “frowning jowls” and a “shrivelled space between her clavicles.”
To its credit, the show does do a good job of evoking her obsessive comparisons of her own aging body to the hard, smooth, firm bodies of the young new profs. We see her eyes linger on his calves, or on her midriff peeking out above her jeans.
But all of this body-fixation only works if we are also confronted with a woman who looks… well… like a regular middle-aged person. And there's no denying that Weisz is objectively, conventionally hot. Aside from a few fine lines, her face is taut. (Those cheekbones!) She also bears all of the conventional markers we have come to associate with youthful beauty. She is thin. She has long, flowing dark brown hair. She has the most beautiful eyes you've ever seen. So, when she complains about her decrepit, sagging body, we hardly believe her.
And, as much I love seeing Weisz on my screen, it is a shame. After all, this is a story that should confront us with questions about why we disvalue older female bodies. Why we may feel uncomfortable about the idea of a young, tight male torso rubbing up against sagging, wrinkled boobs.
In the show, these are questions that are only really offered up through words — visually, with Weisz on our screens, we simply see two hotties getting it on. It's a wasted opportunity for something that could have been truly transgressive, confronting and interesting. It's also a wasted opportunity to remind us all that real, aging bodies are also beautiful, even if they aren't conventionally hot.
From Wuthering Heights to Bridgerton and the Vladimir trailer, there is a definite pro-finger agenda going on in pop culture right now. How do we all feel about that?
This airbrushed presentation of female middle-age is nothing new. A recent slew of films and shows have finally centred middle-aged women as sexual beings, but very few have trusted their audiences to accept a middle-aged woman who isn't exceptionally hot – who actually looks her age.
Take 2024's Babygirl, another psychosexual tale about an older woman and younger man, which cast Nicole Kidman as its lead opposite the much younger Harris Dickinson. Or The Idea of You, which saw Anne Hathaway playing a “dowdy” mum who fell for a young popstar played by Nicholas Galitzine. Or The Substance, which tried to convince us that Demi Moore was too old and saggy to have a career in the entertainment industry.
Shout-out here to 2022's Good Luck to You, Leo Grande, which saw the (also completely gorgeous) Emma Thompson having a dalliance with a young male sex worker, played by Daryl McCormack – it's one of the few films that has been brave enough to show us what a real middle-aged female body actually looks like – folds, wrinkles, lines and all.
They're the things we need to make room for on our screens. As much as I love watching hot, middle-aged women like Rachel Weisz, if a show is supposed to be all about the aging female body, then damn well show it. If not, we're not going to get the truly confronting, transgressive stories we deserve.
