The word “buttocks” does not, in this golden era of sly and subtle television, appear much in reviews. Nor do words such as “romp”, “tits” and “bonk”. But then reviewers rarely have to cope with the oeuvre of Jilly Cooper, a British “bonkbuster” novelist. On Friday, with the release of a star-studded adaptation of her 1988 novel “Rivals” on Disney+, they do. They have risen to the occasion magnificently, peppering (adoring) reviews with not just the words above but also with (brace yourself) “squirting”.
“Rivals”, set in Ms Cooper’s beloved Cotswolds, is unabashedly of another era. The men are lecherous and treacherous; the women gorgeous; the sex gratuitous; the puns execrable. It is, in short, glorious. There is plot—something or other about a TV company. But don’t worry about that. In an era that takes itself a trifle seriously, “Rivals” doesn’t at all. Instead, it offers romps, rumps, lashings of champagne and, above all, joy. Oh, and did we mention the buttocks?
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