The most alarming trend in cinematic period pieces in recent years is the stateliness of the camera. Securing that the audience will be more interested in decor and milieu instead of the passions of the characters, many directors seem to merely copy the better tracking shots and dollies that they picked up from Merchant-Ivory pictures. Not that this stiffness can't be somewhat contorted: Jacques Rivette's masterful The Duchess of Langeais matched the calculated pseudo-disconnect of the eponymous anti-heroine with its theatrical stillness. Better though were Catherine Breillat's venomous The Last Mistress and Joe Wright's adaptation of Pride & Prejudice: Two wholly different films where the camera and the compositions burst with the kind of emotions that other costume epics prefer to smother.
Bertrand Tavernier's The Princess of Montpensier is a far more immediate film than those aforementioned works. Unfurling during the Catholic-Protestant conflicts of the 16th century, the setting is as alien as one would expect a costume piece to be, but the storytelling is as urgent as anything that's seen release thus far this year. In its slam-bang opener, a legion of Catholic soldiers lays waste to a barn full of Huguenots "in the name of Christ." The lead soldier, the Comte de Chabannes (Lambert Wilson), is struck by the face of one of his victims, a woman, and deserts his campaign immediately, facing banishment from his longtime friend and employer, the Duke of Montpensier. It is only by chance that the Comte runs into Phillipe (Grégoire Leprince-Ringuet), the Prince of Montpensier and his former student, who saves the Comte both from being killed in open territory and from banishment.
As the film continues, the Comte comes to embody a sort of progressive, though he is mercifully never condescended to as an allegory; he remains flawed but lacks the stubborn ideologies of the men who surround him. The film's focus, however, inevitably turns towards the eponymous heroine (Melanie Thierry), the lovely daughter of a land owner whose existence is traded as part of a business deal between her father and the Duke of Montpensier. Though her hand in marriage is given to the Prince of Montpensier, her heart belongs to his cousin, Henri de Guise (a seductive Gaspard Ulliel), a great soldier lauded for his performances on the battlefield. As Henri and the Prince set off to war, the Princess has to stay at home and to be taught by the Comte in the ways of Latin and Astrology. Like all those who take her image in, it does not take long for the Comte to fall for her.
As Henri becomes more and more celebrated, the rivalry between him and the Prince escalates with the poor Princess and their longtime friend, the Duke of Anjou (a superb Raphaël Personnaz), stuck in the middle of the conflict. Carrying on a childhood rivalry, they duel over her until the Duke of Anjou threatens to kill them for their preposterous actions. Tavernier's film, adapted from Madame de La Fayette's 17th-century short story of the same name by Jean Cosmos, Tavernier and Francois-Olivier Rousseau, has an unwavering interest in the perverse, near-horrifying practices of marriage that the French aristocracy embraced and gives due attention to them whenever possible. Indeed, one doesn't know whether to laugh or cringe in horror when several family members gather to watch the Prince break his bride's hymen. And it is not hard to see the loveless disconnect in the fathers of the bride and groom as they discuss food preparation in detail during the post-nuptials feast.
Regardless of these plentiful moments, The Princess of Montpensier is more of an epic than a dark comedy of manners, replete with sensational swordfights and moments of startling emotional catharsis, coming largely from the Comte, the Prince, and the Princess. One particular battlefield, alive with so much vicious conflict and littered with fallen soldiers, is sure to be one of the more memorable images of the year. The same could be said for the visage of Ms. Thierry: A graceful yet lively presence in each scene, she carries immense emotional power in her expressions. By the film's final image, however, that same face has become a plain map of how masculine control over femininity in its most essential forms can drain the soul of its liberty and hope. It's a subject that many similar films have covered in some manner. But molded by Tavernier's expert direction, it hits here with a renewed fury and great despondency.
AKA La princesse de Montpensier
Bertrand Tavernier's The Princess of Montpensier is a far more immediate film than those aforementioned works. Unfurling during the Catholic-Protestant conflicts of the 16th century, the setting is as alien as one would expect a costume piece to be, but the storytelling is as urgent as anything that's seen release thus far this year. In its slam-bang opener, a legion of Catholic soldiers lays waste to a barn full of Huguenots "in the name of Christ." The lead soldier, the Comte de Chabannes (Lambert Wilson), is struck by the face of one of his victims, a woman, and deserts his campaign immediately, facing banishment from his longtime friend and employer, the Duke of Montpensier. It is only by chance that the Comte runs into Phillipe (Grégoire Leprince-Ringuet), the Prince of Montpensier and his former student, who saves the Comte both from being killed in open territory and from banishment.
As the film continues, the Comte comes to embody a sort of progressive, though he is mercifully never condescended to as an allegory; he remains flawed but lacks the stubborn ideologies of the men who surround him. The film's focus, however, inevitably turns towards the eponymous heroine (Melanie Thierry), the lovely daughter of a land owner whose existence is traded as part of a business deal between her father and the Duke of Montpensier. Though her hand in marriage is given to the Prince of Montpensier, her heart belongs to his cousin, Henri de Guise (a seductive Gaspard Ulliel), a great soldier lauded for his performances on the battlefield. As Henri and the Prince set off to war, the Princess has to stay at home and to be taught by the Comte in the ways of Latin and Astrology. Like all those who take her image in, it does not take long for the Comte to fall for her.
As Henri becomes more and more celebrated, the rivalry between him and the Prince escalates with the poor Princess and their longtime friend, the Duke of Anjou (a superb Raphaël Personnaz), stuck in the middle of the conflict. Carrying on a childhood rivalry, they duel over her until the Duke of Anjou threatens to kill them for their preposterous actions. Tavernier's film, adapted from Madame de La Fayette's 17th-century short story of the same name by Jean Cosmos, Tavernier and Francois-Olivier Rousseau, has an unwavering interest in the perverse, near-horrifying practices of marriage that the French aristocracy embraced and gives due attention to them whenever possible. Indeed, one doesn't know whether to laugh or cringe in horror when several family members gather to watch the Prince break his bride's hymen. And it is not hard to see the loveless disconnect in the fathers of the bride and groom as they discuss food preparation in detail during the post-nuptials feast.
Regardless of these plentiful moments, The Princess of Montpensier is more of an epic than a dark comedy of manners, replete with sensational swordfights and moments of startling emotional catharsis, coming largely from the Comte, the Prince, and the Princess. One particular battlefield, alive with so much vicious conflict and littered with fallen soldiers, is sure to be one of the more memorable images of the year. The same could be said for the visage of Ms. Thierry: A graceful yet lively presence in each scene, she carries immense emotional power in her expressions. By the film's final image, however, that same face has become a plain map of how masculine control over femininity in its most essential forms can drain the soul of its liberty and hope. It's a subject that many similar films have covered in some manner. But molded by Tavernier's expert direction, it hits here with a renewed fury and great despondency.
AKA La princesse de Montpensier
