La reina Margot

French dynastic history in the late 16th century does not seem a promising subject for a film, but Patrice Chereau, a prominent French stage director, has teased out some personal drama out of the larger historical picture, and provided a vivid and absorbing tale. The story itself is adapted from Alexandre Dumas' novel, which is a pretty highly colored piece to begin with. Chereau theatrically plasters the set with blood and gore, and we are left in no doubt that an atrocity has occurred (the St Bartholomew's day massacre of the Hugenots.) The mendacious Queen Mother, Catherine di Medici, and her weak-minded son, Charles IX, seem to have set it off to deal with the protestant problem without realizing how bad it might get.

In all this horror is the rather cute tale of the relationship between two disparate personalities thrown together in marriage, Catherine's daughter Margo and Henry of Navarre (later Henry IV of France, and one of its better kings). Margo is repulsed at first sight by Henry `the peasant' while Henry rightly regards her as about as loving as a trapped tiger. Yet they reach an accommodation and finish up friends. Both have other lovers (and both respect that) but neither can prevent the lovers from coming to sticky ends.

It's always a bit hard to assess the acting when you are relying on sub-titles (if only the French didn't speak so fast) but Isabella Adjani at the age of 40 pulled off a remarkable job and had me convinced she really was a spoilt, willful little nymphomaniac in her early 20's. She looked as young as she did in the `Story of Adele H' 20 years earlier. Daniel Auteuil was also excellent as the unprepossessing but very intense and quick-thinking Henry. Virna Lisi, a sex symbol in her earlier film career, made a good villainess as Catherine. Most of the other principals seem to have been chosen for their looks by rent-an-ego casting though Jean-Huges Anglade was suitably pathetic as the doomed King Charles.

The rather claustrophobic sets brought home the medieval lack of privacy, even (perhaps especially) in royal palaces – the old Louvre was about as spacious as the ‘loo. The film fades a bit in the second half, but it's still not a bad story, if at times a bit difficult to follow. I have to say I found `Elizabeth' more interesting and a lot less bloody. Anyway, `Margo' is very French, and not to be judged by Hollywood standards (whatever they are).

The timing of the release of this movie was sublime, if coincidental. I was living in France in the Spring of 1994 when this movie was released, so I got to see it on the big screen in Paris. It was quite chilling really: I was sitting in a theater watching the St Bartholemew's Day Massacre right in the midst of where it happened some 420 years earlier. Torture, mutilation, immolation, throwing naked bodies in the river, all because people were of the wrong group.

Then I went home to my apartment and when I turned on the TV, I got to watch torture, mutilation, immolation, throwing naked bodies in the river, all because people were of the wrong group. This time it was in Rwanda.

Catholics and Huguenots, Hutus and Tutsis, Seine or Nile, we haven't progressed very far in a half millennium.

The movie was a bit complicated, but it seemed to catch the the politics and the scheming that was taking place in the French court at the time as well as the horror of the massacre. But it is also a movie of our times: the message that civilization is only a hair-trigger away from from the most savage acts of barbarism. And that we haven't stopped even yet. The timing and the message were an accident, and made all the more vivid for it.

I highly recommend the movie for the performances but also for the message.

Alexandre Dumas should certainly be satisfied with this superb adaptation of his classic. The setting is excellent and it gives a wonderful image of 16th century France. Naturally the highlight of the movie is the re-enactment of the St. Bartholomew's Day massacre. The horrendous scenes of the murders in all their crudity are terrific. The actors did a wonderful job here. Isabelle Adjani is, as usual, terrific. Her nude scenes, depicting the queen's adultery, lust and incestuous affairs are acted in such a way that they are a form of art. Vincent Perez is in one of his best roles - his interpretation of La Môle is second only to his acting in "Indochine". The great Virna Lisi is simply marvellous posing as Cathérine de Médicis - no wonder she won the Best Actress Award at Cannes. She is the ambitious woman par excellence, stopping at nothing to get where she wants, not even if she has to see her sons being killed one by one and sell her daughter in a convenient marriage to unite the Catholics and the Protestants. The others, especially Asia Argento, impersonating the tragic countess Charlotte de Sauve did a good job too. A very well deserved Prix du Jury.

Everything about this picture is beautiful, even the ugliness is beautiful...an oxymoron, but the only way I can describe it. This is a stunning tale of 16th century sex and violence, with a dirty realism, but still an overlay of beauty.

Isabelle Adjani is intense, beautiful, and sensuous as Margot, the highly sexed, intelligent and dutiful sister of the doomed King Charles IX of France. She is forced into a marriage of political and religious convenience by her bitterly ambitious mother, Catherine de Medici (Virna Lisi) to the repulsive Henri Navarre (sympathetically played by Daniel Auteuil). There is a tremendous amount going on, and Margot's incest with her brothers is more than hinted at.

The searingly sensual Vincent Perez plays La Mole, who eventually becomes Margot's doomed lover. Their first encounter is an acrobatic feat of anonymous sex in an alleyway that is breath-taking. Their later love scenes are intensely erotic. This film only becomes better on repeat viewings. I found I was able to grasp more on my second viewing. There is so much going on, so many twists and turns and shocks, and the film is also quite long. It never lags, and even Margot's grudging tolerance, if not love, for her husband, is believingly portrayed. Very highly recommended.

This is not flawless filmmaking, but it IS flawless cinema. One won't bother recounting the story, or the plotline, a viewer can gather that from history, OR previous reviews, OR even a casual overview of Dumas novels. One would like to speak to the filmmaking here, and along the way, on the movie.

If one is at all interested in French history, one has already seen this movie a thousand* times, * meaning enough. However, a digital dvd transfer of the movie as it was originally intended to be seen by M. Chéreau, without subtitles, without interference,the VO [version originale] is stunning. The first and foremost difference is the lighting - il te frappe, as the French would say, "it strikes you." Not being a technician, one can't speak to the difference between the film one saw on DVD and the film one saw in American theaters, or on American DVD, or even on VHS, French and/or American. The difference is striking. From the opening scenes, one is suddenly, almost frightfully, drawn into the 16th century, an epoch without the cushions of modern life. The light is everywhere, and it shines in a way that is pitiless and revelatory. This was never, unfortunately, appparent to theater goers here, and, I suspect, to cinema goers in France. If it had been, there would have been Oscars. One is not sure cinema projection equipment can convey what M. Chéreau did with this film. Where there is light, there is "liminality" and where there are shadows, even there there is light, but it is dim (thus not liminal), and the cadaverous flesh of the living players conveys more than anyone could ever say in dialogue - these are "dead" people, living out a drama that is already predestined for them, which is a marvelously conceived conceit of the filmmaker. M. Chéreau is playing with predestination and Fate here, and it is through the art of cinema that he is doing it. Mlle Adjani turns in a bravura performance, and it is only by grace of Jeanne Moreau's 1954 performance that we have any scale of comparison. Moreau's performance is cool, ice and politics, but Adjani's is heat, love and politics, and suited to her generation. Vincent Perez is suitably heroic (watch the rose tones come and go on his flesh as the light changes). The kudos for male performances, however, are shared by Jean-Hugues Anglade, long an underrated French actor, and Daniel Auteuil, too long appreciated for his bravura performances elsewhere and not given enough credit for what he can do with a gesture, with a line, with a look. M. Auteuil is almost always lit with cool hypocrisy, (ambers and greens) as suits his performance, but M. Anglade turns in one of the best roles of his career as the doomed Charles IX, and he never looks less than "on death's door." A naturally sensitive actor, he adds a touch of "soullessness" to his Charles IX that is unforgettable - weak, yes, king, yes, momma's boy, yes, but also, in the end, needy child. It is stunning in its ultimate simplicity as a performance for cinema. Very few performances in film measure up to Virna Lisi's Catherine de Medici(s) [the s is French spelling]. She is "incroyable" (incredible), and something was wrong when she wasn't recognized universally as '94's best supporting actress. Her queen is multi-layered, loving, hating, deeply cynical yet naively superstitious, playing son against son and daughter against political reality, in other words a perfect incarnation of the 16th century in France. Any political woman you can think of could have sat at her feet and learned lessons on "how to do it." Mme Lisi herself might have been a confidante to the real Catherine, she is that good in this role. She was crowned for this performance in Europe, but should have been crowned universally. Watch her as she vacillates between love and hate and politics, and especially watch the lighting - it subtly changes according to her role of the moment. Watch her carefully towards the end, as Fate winds things up, and watch an actress give herself up totally to the role, to the moment, in order to incarnate a character that is absolutely unforgettable.

Apparently, M. Chéreau lets his actors know what he is doing, because they respond in according " shades" of emotion. When the lighting is dim, or the focus is midrange, they "fuzz" a little, giving the viewer a sense of their uncertainty, but if he focuses, they focus, too, and there are frightening moments of soul-baring intimacy when you almost want to look away - it is like watching your intimates make love; too much, too intimate, too deep. Dominique Blanc turns in a nearly flawless performance as the over-the-top lady-in-waiting to Margot - watch her lighting, too, and how she responds. "Conspiratrice", duchesse, cynical woman in love despite herself, she is very, very good. Pascal Greggory as the future Henri III is wonderful, and the rest of the cast stand out. This was obviously a labor of love and intensity, and all gave their best to M. Chéreau.

In the end, one keeps wondering what it is about the film that was so memorable - and the french dvd transfer makes it perfectly clear. The performances, yes; the "mise en scène," yes; the director, certainly. But it is the whole, the light and the shadows, the darkness and the glow, as in those candles in the marvelous square paper lanterns in the late night of the Louvre as the people begin to weave their plots, that make it memorable. Good actors, great performances, and a sure director - flawless cinema.