I'm a sucker for a sexy drama. But Vladimir is just too unconvincing, even for me

I’m a sucker for tales of middle-aged women going bonkers and having wild affairs with younger men. It’s such a fun idea, isn’t it? Especially as my experience of middle age has involved washing other people’s pants, being ignored in bars and watching my entire skillset become automated at the exact point that my face has turned into Thora Hird’s.

The only problem is that obsessive dalliances with younger men are full of pitfalls, especially when you realise that he’s young enough to be your son and he doesn’t even know who Thora Hird is. And these yawning gaps between rampaging female desire and stark reality are explored at length in Vladimir, a slick Netflix adaptation of the bestselling novel by Julia May Jonas.

Vladimir tells the story of an unnamed English Literature professor played by the stunning 56-year-old Rachel Weisz, who looks about 28. She wears beautiful silk shirts, has a beautiful house and is so sensual that she seems to be constantly on the verge of sliding off her chair. She soon starts doing lots of rude things in her chair when she meets her new colleague, hot new professor and young author Vladimir Vladinski (go-to British hunk Leo Woodall). 

Vlad arrives, fully clothed at first (boo!), just as her husband John, who is also a sexually prolific English literature professor, is suspended for his decades of affairs with young students. She knows all about John’s many dalliances, which creates some friction at work and is also a rather convenient excuse for her to pursue Vlad. 

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Mostly this involves a lot of heavy breathing and eye contact, while Vlad gives her a bouquet of mixed messages, ranging from looking at her like she’s a delicious jam doughnut to boring her senseless about his wife and child.

So far, so up my strasse. I was too busy sorting out people’s pants to read the book when it came out, so I was really looking forward to this. Sexy writer people doing sexy things while I hoover under the sofa and clean out the compost bin? That’s a yes from me. And Sharon Horgan, the undisputed goddess of funny midlife television, exec produced it. What could possibly go wrong? 

Well, unfortunately, there were a few things that put me off my stride – a bit like clocking some horrible wallpaper in the background of a porn film. Weisz’s unreliable narration to camera was more wearing than amusing, and after a while I realised that every single character was a self-obsessed wanker.

I know that characters don’t have to be likeable and not everything has to be relatable, but some of it was highly unconvincing. If they were real writers they’d be walking around in their joggy bottoms crying and eating crisps. And although Leo is very good at emerging topless from swimming pools and shaking himself off in slow motion, he doesn’t half look like a plasterer from Basildon. Also, Vladimir Vladinski? I think this is meant to be a sly reference to Vladimir Nabokov, but it’s also a bit like calling a Scottish character Jock McJackson or a Spanish character José Josez. 

Still, it all ripped along at a fair old sexy pace, with some diverting scenes that almost made me put down my Puzzler word search. There were also one or two moments that even this oestrogen-deficient middle-aged woman related to. After Vlad visits her house, shows off his torso and leaves his swimming trunks behind, Weisz’s character is so obsessed with him that she carries them around with her in her handbag for weeks. 

To be honest, I understood that all too well. In fact, it was all I could do not to reach into the screen and take them off her. I mean, I’m putting a wash on anyway, so I may as well… 

Vladimir is on Netflix

Lucy Sweet is a freelance journalist and copywriter

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