La marchesa Von...

Erich Rohmer's adaptation of a novella by Heinrich von Kleist is visually remarkable. If you can imagine a painting by Jacques Louis David come to life, that is what this film looks like. Clearly a lot of attention was paid to colors and lighting. Aficionados of neoclassicism should not miss it. I believe this was Bruno Ganz's first film and the other players, particularly Edith Clever, are fine as well. The tone is one of social satire tempered by comedy. A number of Netflix viewers have complained that the film requires a lot of patience. I don't agree. It requires an interest in the period, perhaps. Recommended for the discerning.

Eric Rohmer, the great filmmaker, tries his hand at the kind of film that is everything that a Rohmer film isn't. Gone is the New Wave Modernism; the natural settings, hand-held cameras and dialogue that captures the quintessential nature of being human. Replaced instead with dowdy costumes, unmoving camera, and formal sets. Perhaps the original German flows with eloquent charm, but the English subtitles seem to have been translated by school children.

Merchant Ivory this isn't, and neither is it Rohmer.

This Franco-German co production is the weakest of Rohmer's historical movies (a group of films that includes such accomplished works as The Lady and the Duke, Perceval, and Triple Agent), perhaps because its subject matter seems hopelessly dated. Based on a novel by Heinrich Von Kleist and set during the Napoleonic wars, it tells the tale of a young marquise rescued during an assault to his estate by a brooding count (a young Bruno Ganz). Unfortunately, from that brief encounter the marquise gets pregnant, a huge problem during that time and on account of her position in society. Aside from a dated central conflict, the film is also dull and static, without the redeeming dialogue and interaction between the actors that one sees in other Rohmer films. The director, by the way, plays an amusing cameo as a French general.

In this case, the question is not only who placed the seed that sowed the bun in the lady's oven, but how did he get into the kitchen in the first place?

The widowed marquise is saved from being attacked by a Russian Count, who soon declares his honorable intentions. But just how honorable is he?

Soon, her own honor is questioned, when she discovers she's with child, though swearing she's been chaste since her husband's death. There's a mystery to solve, as well as hurt feelings, false accusations, family turmoil, and an important question: if you love and trust someone, are you willing to stick by them and believe in them, no matter how questionable things appear?

Thoughts worth pondering.

If the romantic poet and playwright Heinrich von Kleist (who wrote almost at the same time as Goethe) could have imagined the cinema, he would have approved of Rohmer's filming of his novella. What we see here are not 20th century characters in costume, but early 19th century Romantic sensibilities reacting according to their way of looking at the world. It is as strange as time travel, and utterly charming. Rohmer frames them in sets like Caspar Friedrich or Fuseli paintings. This movie is a marvel.