Steven Soderbergh's peeks into Liberace's life of isolated stardom and aggressive dazzle. Elizabeth Kerr reports.

Speaking of closets. As the epitome of Las Vegas show glamour, kitsch and performance, Liberace set the bar pretty high. When the entertainer (because really, there was no other way to describe him) died in 1987, he was at the center of endless speculation about his sexuality and his health. He never did officially come out (back in those day admitting you were gay was indeed career suicide) but his incredible popularity and famously OTT homes, cars and stage outfits kept the masses from prying too much. And it's really hard to describe just what kind oddball charmer he was.

A biopic about Liberace seems like an ideal place for all manner of scurrilous assumptions but Steven Soderbergh isn't interested in going down that side of the street. Made with the same affectionate gaze for ostentatious weirdness and all that refuses to exist in the mainstream as he brought to last year's Magic Mike, Behind the Candelabra is admittedly biased toward Scott Thorson, Liberace's former lover and companion who was tossed aside and left destitute when he got boring. But Soderbergh and writer Richard LaGravanese never make Liberace a villain, and are just as interested in what makes these men tick and gravitate towards each other.

As Behind the Candelabra starts, veterinary assistant and movie animal trainer Scott Thorson (Matt Damon) is learning the ropes of life in Hollywood in the 1970s and after drinks with a producer friend Bob Black (Scott Bakula, rocking a '70s moustache) he's introduced to Liberace (Michael Douglas), or Lee, after a show. Scott eventually wins an invitation to the house, where another young man bitterly mopes around as a sign of things to come. One thing leads to another and Scott moves in and lives with Lee for the last decade of his life.

Soderbergh isn't interested in revealing information about Liberace we don't know, nor is he keen to confirm any previous speculation. What he is interested in is the dynamic between a powerful and lonely celebrity and a directionless and malleable young man. Watching Liberace remake Scott in his own image is both creepy and oddly sweet, and Douglas (who won an Emmy for the role in the film originally broadcast on television in the US) brings a knowing and respectful grace to a man that was both egregiously public and fiercely private. As a portrait of the artist as an isolated romantic, Behind the Candelabra is at times darkly comical (Rob Lowe as Liberace's enthusiastic plastic surgeon steals the few scenes he's in), and at others bittersweet, and some of the responsibility for Lee and Thorson's failed relationship is laid at Thorson's feet. Damon makes Thorson into much more than a star struck mooch, and there is a palpable and dynamic between the two. And really, what more can you say about Howard Cummings' production design, which recreates some of the most famous and gaudy spaces ever built? Between reveling in the solid gold bathroom and Damon's sparkly Speedo, Behind the Candelabra finds the recognizable humanity inside two nearly unrecognizable people.

Behind the Candelabra opened in Hong Kong on Thursday.

(HK Edition 10/11/2013 page7)