In this stylised, quasi-fictionalised account of Charles Augustus Howell, director Rodrigo Areias opens on a London in the midst of great cultural change. It’s the 19th century, and art is taking a more honest stance, capturing the horrors imposed by societal norms.Luminaries Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Lizzie Siddal and John Ruskin are the talk of the town, and these occasions happen in clandestine gatherings – nominally shot in one continuous take – meant to discuss the transformation of Europe.

It’s in this England that Howell (played with sinister self-assurance by Albano Jerónimo) appears to bring organised chaos to the proceedings. He acts as a middle-man, issuing missives, warnings and thinly veiled threats to competitors, acting to the best of his ability to achieve what needs to be done. Around him comes a collection of kaleidoscopic colours, suggesting that this is a country progressing into the next century; one based on conviction and creativity.

The Worst Man In London thrives on presentation: a composite of patterns as illuminating as the paintings this gaggle of intellectuals are supposed to represent. Areias uses colour throughout the picture, whether it is to highlight the glow rising above the fiery candles, or the red and blue cravats worn by men of high society. Clearly he’s most interested in the movement, as the focus is aimed at the myriad gatherings where wine and wit go hand in hand. Stylistically, the use of lighting bears a resemblance to Barry Lyndon (Stanley Kubrick, 1975), given the costumes, cierges and concerted use of geography for key scenes. Why use artifice when the natural landscape is plenty good enough?

“Owl is a man’s best friend,” says one person, which accurately describes the pace. Whole set-pieces are filmed with slow, skilful attention. Wisely, the producers keep it period based: there are no rapid edits, no MTV style montages and no rock guitars heard on the soundtrack. Everything from the music (violins plucking in the backdrop), to the costumes is done with the best intention to exhibit England as it was then. If there’s a modern element, it stems from Jerónimo’s lead, a man capable of playing Howell like a Jagger-esque dandy and an art commentator. He has a contemporary panache to his facial expressions, which serves to draw first time viewers into this antiquated existence. As protagonists go, Howell is an interesting one, being something of a social deviant (the real life man purportedly inspired Arthur Conan Doyle’s writings and characters.)

Occasionally, the film loses track of itself – a prostitute shouts out “wanna quickie”, which wasn’t common parlance until the 1980s – but by and large, it’s a thorough portrait of a bygone era. The men, draped from head to toe in black, are met with fluorescent shadings that lead them to their seats. Classical music entertains the guests. And in the background come messengers on behalf of Napoleon III, eager to seal their interests in this country. Howell, a half Portugese man, converses in several tongues, but understands that his greatest tongue is that of his persistence.

As an example of slow(ish) cinema, The Worst Man In London will test viewers, but the build-up is felt in the final 30 minutes, where many of the horrors of the era are sewn together. The time that has been spent penning this particular vision of pre-20th century Europe finally knows the message it has been trying to spell out. But whatever the age, humanity are capable of great art, just as they are able to bring out the primal demon from our competitors. Humans are a splash of emotions, a spectrum of feelings that spill around their bodies.

The Worst Man in London shows online for free throughout the entire month of December as part of ArteKino 2024.

Just click here in order to watch it now.

And click here in order to read our exclusive interview with Rodrigo Areias.