A Morte de Luís XIV

I'm not going to remember Louis's grunts and moans as he lies in bed, attended by far too many doctors to be of any use. No, I will remember the disputes--polite but still angry--between the doctors, sometimes involving a faith healer who has been called in, God knows why, to administer some foul elixir to Louis. The joke is that the doctors know hardly more than the quack about how to treat the sick. An inessential film, but it was good to see Leaud again.

The biggest wonder of this film is that it had most of its audience sitting all the way through. For almost 2 hours of every minute detail of the last days of Louis the 14th, the greatest king France has ever known. Truth is though we do follow every minute detail we don't really see every thing. In fact what we do see is mostly close ups of the faces of the protagonists (mostly the face of Jean-Pierre Leaud who does a superb work as the dying king betrayed by his body, but keeping his mind sharp to the very last moment), we often only get to hear whats taking place while we keep on seeing these close ups. The result is a very beautiful, claustrophobic film, with very little plot development and very little action. Theatrical in the most cinematographic way - namely it's very theatrical but we always get to see it through the eye of the camera, did I forget to mention loads of close ups. So I did stay focused all the way to the end. And I do appreciate the technical mastery of the director and the cinematographer. And the acting was first class. But there's too little of any other element that could make it into a real masterpiece.

I expected a slow movie, with not much action going on. I mean, it's about a guy dying, so that's says it all.

But my goodness, I didn't expect such a lack of activitiy. Everybody seemed to move in slow motion. Everybody seemed to TALK in slow motion. It got to the point where I seriously checked if this movie is a satire. Because in no way this reflects actual events in those times.

One of the most disturbing (or hilarious) scenes was the one were Louis wakes up at night, feverish and sweaty, and asks for some water. First, he has to ask several times because there is no servant in the room with him. Finally, a door opens and a very sleepy person stumbles in, has to be asked several times again before he - after a ridiculous amount of time - enters again with a glass of water. Now, the water is served in the wrong kind of glass and Louis refused to drink it.

Okay, I get that this scene was about how etiquette was more important than dying of thirst in those days. Maybe it was, I don't know. But the whole set up lacks every understanding of the importance of Louis XIV, and how the court worked. It was an absolute honor to work and live in Versailles and only the best of the best (the creme de la creme) of servants would make it to being a personal servant of him. And they would run, fly, to fulfill his every wish. It would be like serving Queen Elizabeth, only multiplied by a 1000 times. It's completely unthinkable that there was no servant present and some stupid incompetent person was the only one to attent to Louis, in slow motion.

There were much more mistakes like this in the movie. So I decided to view it as a satire. It's actually not so bad as a satire. Oh, and some parts I doubled the speed. That helped a lot too.

If you enjoy 115 minutes of a sick, old man lying in his bed, struggling to eat, moaning and eventually dying, this is the right movie for you.

I was wondering, as I watched this, just how the last few days of Queen Elizabeth II - herself reigning for almost as long - might have looked in comparison with this depiction of the last few days of the acclaimed 'Sun King". Somehow, I doubt she would have been surrounded by quite such a grouping of acolytes and sycophants. Such a collection of quacks and hangers-on riddled with an obsequiousness that would have made "Obadiah Slope" blush. The King has taken to his bed, at the age of 76, suffering from acute pains in his leg. Perched, rather uncomfortably, and adorned with a wig that would not have looked out of place on a lion, we spend the next few days watching this once great, stylish, flamboyant and shrewd man edge towards his meeting with his maker. Jean-Pierre Léaud doesn't really have a great deal to do here - occasionally sip some wine, or eat a biscuit, or take a short stroll around his couch. For the most part he lies there, breathing heavily, allowing the establishment around him to gradually unravel. His long-term lover Mme. De Maintenon (Irène Silvagni) is his principal source of comfort, Marc Susini his valet - a far grander role than the title suggests, tries to keep him contented and a collection of doctors all busy themselves about him - largely without the faintest idea of what is actually wrong much less how to treat their ailing monarch. If you are looking for something with pace, then this is certainly not for you. What Albert Serra delivers here is almost like a fly-on-the-wall documentary depicting the decline not just of the man, but of everything his life has stood for. The costumes look great and film relies on a lighting regime that is entirely plausible - if a little lacking in lux at times. The audio could maybe have been doing with a bit of a boost, but the serene effort from Léaud and the scenario itself provides adequate compensation as we, quite literally, watch the end of an era. On balance, I reckon the late Queen probably had a more private, and medically more competent, time of it....