s Sir Ralph (Denholm Elliott) and his fiancee Caroline (Glynis Barber) ride through the countryside to his sizable estate, they come across an apple thief and the men who have been wronged. Though Ralph hopes to pay off the incident so as to avoid vulgar punishment so close to his wedding, his offer is turned down. It’s a brutal, violent period (the late 17th century in England), but examples must be made to keep the peace and discourage crimes against wealthy landowners by poor tenants. Ralph and Caroline have greater problems soon to come, however, when Lady Barbara Skelton (Faye Dunaway) arrives, intending to be Caroline’s maid of honor, but secretly opting to stir up a love triangle and steal away the bridegroom.

The opening scene features full frontal female nudity, both to demonstrate the boorish nature of the era (not unlike in “Tom Jones”) and to provide an edge; sex and nakedness are major components of this bawdy remake (of a much more prim and proper costume drama from 1945), which hopes to push boundaries for a modernized depiction. Jealousy and desire follow Barbara wherever she goes; sure enough, on her wedding day, she meets yet another potential lover (Oliver Tobias), as well as the notorious robber Captain Jerry Jackson (Alan Bates), whose illegal routines prove entirely alluring. Without a doubt, she’s insatiable. “Let’s explore!”

Strangely, Barbara comes across as such a disagreeable person within minutes after her introduction that it’s difficult to muster enthusiasm for her upcoming adventures. She has no morals, no loyalties, no interests in civility. It’s laughable that no one else – save for ultra-religious servant Hogarth (John Gielgud) – recognizes how mischievous and dangerous she can be for normalcy and reputations. Traditional wifely pursuits are simply not her style. And so, with a lust for action, she becomes a highwayman (or highwaywoman) who, like Superman, can’t seem to be identified by her eyes alone, firstly targeting the gambling Lady Kingsclere (Prunella Scales), whom Barbara seeks revenge against for winning a prized brooch in a game of cards.

Although there aren’t really any upstanding protagonists here, Skelton’s devilishness is, at the very least, cinematic. And her untoward endeavors are nicely supplemented by cutting dialogue, decent costuming (exhibiting plenty of heaving bosoms), magnificent sets, rousing music by Tony Banks, and a hint of swashbuckling excitement. This masked bandit is far from a Zorro or Lone Ranger, but she’s thoroughly watchable. And with the lax censorship standards of 1983, she just might get away with all of her heinous transgressions. Yet the threat of the gallows remains, as Barbara plots ever braver heists, while simultaneously manipulating everyone around her. Even when she’s on the verge of being caught, she’s unrepentant and unfazed; it’s simply another opportunity to sin, more carefully and deceitfully, and to betray those closest to her.

Without a hero to root for, “The Wicked Lady” becomes a waiting game for justice (perhaps like in “Beyond the Forest”) – with shootouts and confrontations peppering the landscape until that fateful finale. It’s not particularly original, though the cast does a fine job with the limited script. It also features Marina Sirtis of “Star Trek: The Next Generation” fame in a small (nude) role (with whips!), and boasts a rather fitting conclusion, with long-awaited comeuppance that offers a glimmer of filmic, poetic integrity – of the same carnal savagery that set out to define this production. “True Christian charity!”

– Mike Massie