La reine Margot

Back in 1994 ‘La Reine Margot' dispensed of every preconceived notion of traditional costume drama, bringing a radical and shocking slant on history. The lavish sets and costumes remained but the atmosphere was now tainted with bloodshed, poison, lust and incest. The regal palaces that were so stereotypically populated by loyal subjects are transformed into a viper's nest of power politics, schemes and deceit where royal heritage counts for little and deviousness is the key to success.

The year is 1572; France is torn apart amidst the conflict between Catholics and Protestants whilst the King is a mere puppet, first to his domineering, Catholic, mother (Catherine de Medici, played with superlative coldness by Virna Lisi) and later to the protestant leader Coligny. In a half hearted effort to bring peace to the land Catherine marries off her daughter Margot (Isabelle Adjani) to the protestant Henri de Navarre (Daniel Auteuil), a political manoeuvre that deludes no one. Margot and Henri are certainly a less than content couple; as they walk down the aisle they engage in a hissing match with one another where Margot succinctly informs him that ‘Just because we're married it doesn't mean I have to sleep with you' and suggests he steer clear of her bedroom. They also fail to adhere to any form of decorum during the wedding reception; whilst Henri brawls with the Catholics (and flirts with a very youthful Asia Argento, of xXx fame) Margot goes window shopping amongst the male guests, looking for a viable one night stand. When the wedding guests prove unsatisfactory she simply dons a mask and takes to the streets, masquerading as a prostitute, and continues her search amongst the hordes of Protestant soldiers, who have gathered for her wedding, eventually settling on the dour La Mole (Vincent Perez). However any illusions of peace are shattered after a botched attempt to assassinate Coligny, as the Catholics, fearing a revolt, slaughter 6,000 Protestants in what becomes known as the St. Bartholomew's Day Massacre.

The sheer horror of the massacre is reproduced with unflinching realism by director Patrick Chireau, who manages not only to shock but also recreate an atmosphere of utter chaos, exemplified by the moment when Margot is wandering amongst the palace corridors which have been besieged by soldiers and are strewn with corpses (Margot is curtly told ‘return to your room and lock the door'). Unfortunately some of the impact of the massacre is lost due to the fact that we know barely any of the characters who are being murdered and it begs credibility that the Protestants seemingly put up no resistance. One of the few survivors of the slaughter is La Mole, who is saved by Margot when he breaks into her chamber, looking for sanctuary, which Margot freely gives to him (and more). In the aftermath of the massacre Margot also manages to save Henri de Navarre, forging a valuable alliance in the process. However, suspicion has been aroused that she is a traitor and she finds that she is in a decidedly vulnerable position where her only hope of freedom is to flee to Navarre with Henri.

Isabelle Adjani, France's premier actress, delivers one of her finest performances as the stubborn and promiscuous Margot, who despite initially coming across as vain and conceited later earns our sympathy as she finds herself in an impossible situation, where her position in the royal family is of little consequence (her brothers love her in a perversely incestuous way and her mother sees her as an inconvenience and potential threat to her authority) and the threat of assassination always looms around the corner. Whilst the political manoeuvrings and power struggles are intriguing the same cannot be said for the tepid romance between Adjani and Perez. The pair lacks any chemistry; even their scenes of erotic passion come across as frigid and awkward. They make an attractive couple, but not a particularly convincing one.

La Reine Margot is also one of the most visually sumptuous films ever released; the big budget clearly didn't go to waste in recreating the gothic decadence of the period and the costumes were deservingly nominated for an Oscar. It's easy to view ‘La Reine Margot' as a precursor to the acclaimed 1998 film ‘Elizabeth', as both centre around a female historical figure who has to endure the conflict between Catholics and Protestants whilst surviving assassination attempts (usually via poison) and overcome tragedy as those who they care for are systematically murdered. Indeed if nothing else ‘La Reine Margot' provides a chilling insight into one of history's most horrific atrocities and offers an unsettling portrait of the moral bankruptcy that pervaded throughout 16th century society.

My Score: 8 out of 10

I don't pretend to know the minutiae of the historical record, but it was Definitely Not Dumas, or I lost it all in the English translations! Like many others I've always been fascinated by this episode in French history, a turbulent and savagely intolerant period and not only in France, but 1572 is yet another year that went down in infamy. This film portrays the complicated machinations performed by Catherine de Medici and her cohorts in furthering her Catholic ambitions for her country and debauched family against the perceived threat of dour Protestantism, and centred around the St. Bartholomew Day Massacre.

It's the rather beautiful Isabelle Adjani's stunning performance as Queen Margot that can leave you as breathless as she often is in the film, without her it would have been a much poorer film. She seemed to live the part, with every emotion imaginable on display. Would French breathlessness, or those huge rustling dresses sound as good dubbed into English?! On the other hand the rest of the cast are superb in their roles too, but especially Daniel Auteuil as Henri de Navarre and Jean Hugues Anglade as Charles IX, making them both extremely believable sympathetic characters when they weren't. The bloodbath and the anarchy of the Massacre and aftermath is vividly presented – we are not spared a single thing in the entire film, all manner of violence and depravity is non-gratuitously displayed. It's impossible to convey a part of what happens in this film – the same as it must have been impossible for the film to convey a fraction of what happened in that era too: it really is a must-see. I've seen it a number of times now since 1994 and I find something new I hadn't spotted before every time. It's a film that can make you realise (if you didn't before) that millions of ordinary folk all around the world could and still can believe in such arrant religious nonsense to the point of committing multiple ghastly murders in the name of empty air.

Apart from all that, it's a beautifully crafted film, the best of its kind there's ever been.

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.

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.