I just started watching Vladimir. Yes, I realize I am late to this party.
The eight-episode show is an adaptation of Julia May Jonas's bestselling debut novel of the same name playing on Netflix. It came out earlier this year, March to be exact. I wished I had known. It would have been great to binge during facelift recovery.
Rachel Weisz plays an acclaimed writer and English professor at a liberal arts college who develops an increasingly unhinged obsession with a much younger colleague named Vladimir, played by Leo Woodall.
Weisz is 56. Woodall is 29. Their characters appear to be roughly the same ages.
And I am into it.
We never learn Rachel Weisz’s character’s name. It is deliberately obscured throughout the season. She is only ever referred to as “M.”
We’ve spent decades watching middle-aged men become obsessed with much younger women. Vladimir flips the script. This time, the woman gets to lust. She gets to be inappropriate. She gets the wandering eye. The sexual fantasies.
Watching Rachel, a woman in her mid-50s, become completely consumed by her attraction to a much younger teacher is enthralling and wildly entertaining.
I love the role reversal. I love the dialogue. Her character is constantly talking directly to us, letting us into an inner monologue that is very sexual, candid, funny, occasionally uncomfortable and refreshingly messy.
It is all incredibly fun to watch.
There’s something particularly satisfying about watching a woman in her 50s portrayed not merely as still sexual, but absolutely consumed by desire. Vladimir basically takes up residence in her brain.
So I’m watching. I’m entertained. I’m appreciating all of this. I’m also wondering how I completely missed the show when it came out. Apparently I slept through the entire March press tour.
Yet, somewhere along the way, I developed another obsession entirely.
I cannot stop staring at Rachel Weisz’s face.
I almost hate admitting that because I love the show so much.
And, I love Rachel Weisz so much.
Major girl crush.
About ten years ago, I saw her and Daniel Craig in a supermarket in Woodstock near my house and was genuinely starstruck. I can confirm that she is every bit as beautiful standing near the produce aisle as she is on screen.
And at 56, she remains insanely beautiful.
But as I watched Vladimir, I kept noticing her face. Not because I think she looks bad. She absolutely does not.
It’s because I remembered something.
In 2011, Rachel Weisz joined what was described as the British Anti-Cosmetic Surgery League, alongside Emma Thompson and Kate Winslet.
Yes.
A league.
Apparently being against cosmetic surgery once required organized sport.
And of course Kate Winslet was involved. Kate has been publicly objecting to actresses messing with their faces since approximately the invention of Botox. As longtime Charlotte’s Book readers know, Kate and I have already had words about this.
Admittedly, she was not present for them.
But back to the league.
I’m not much of a joiner to begin with, but the British Anti-Cosmetic Surgery League is one organization I can confidently say would reject my application on sight.
Weisz also famously criticized Botox, arguing that it should essentially be banned for actors in the same way steroids are banned for athletes because facial expression is part of an actor’s job. Although her ads are insanely airbrushed they have gotten banned in some countries.
These are pretty definitive positions on the topic.
And now, 15 years later, I’m watching Vladimir thinking:
Has Rachel left the league?
To be very clear, I have no idea what Rachel Weisz has or hasn’t done to her face. Unless Rachel sends me her treatment history, neither does anyone else looking at photographs on the internet.
But I spend an arguably unhealthy amount of time looking at celebrity faces, talking to cosmetic dermatologists and plastic surgeons, and writing about facial aging. I grew up on Star magazine and spent my 20s watching Joan Rivers’ Fashion Police. Analyzing celebrity choices is basically my favorite pastime, except now I interview doctors and call it research.
What kept catching my eye throughout Vladimir was her midface. Her cheeks look remarkably full. If you’re watching, please tell me I’m not alone. If you’re not, keep scrolling. I brought evidence.
In some expressions, particularly when she smiles, there is a fullness and stiffness through the cheek area that made me wonder about filler or another form of volume restoration.
So naturally, I went back and looked at older photographs. And not the magazine spreads. Please. I needed candids. Street photos. Bad lighting. This is serious investigative journalism.