If a glittery-gorgeous bijou is seriously
flawed, don’t your eyes and senses continue to resonate and
thrall? Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette will tickle your
fancy even as you lament its damages. Unfortunately, like the title
of her wonderful previous film, the French Queen’s, biopic
appears to have gotten “Lost in Translation.” However,
don’t be alarmed. Unlike the young Queen, pushed into a barren
marriage at 14, Ms. Coppola did not lose her head completely in
styling the 18th century Queen as a vibrant, anxious, over-indulged
pubescent, gradually gathering substance before history cut her
down.
Director and screenwriter Coppola may have felt the sharp, cutting
edge of the French when the film was booed at its premier at the
Cannes Film Festival. She probably took it in stride as, after all,
she was on their turf and she had given their favorite Queen a flouncy
and surfacey treatment, albeit intelligent, witty flounce and oh
my, what surfaces: The actual location of Versailles and pastel
acres of silk and lace, not to mention as much of Kirsten Dunst’s
naked body as a sultry Antoinette seen as frequently as possible,
before Gendarmes would shut down the place. Maybe Cannes audiences
objected to the use of American slang or rock music, and wasn’t
that a pair of pink Chuck Taylor’s in that shot? You can applaud
the director-writer now, if you like, if only for her cracking the
stale, brittle peanut shell of Hollywood biography movies. Inspired
in the beginning by Antonia Fraser’s 2001 book that was acclaimed
for its thoroughness, Ms. Coppola’s point of view is of Marie’s.
What impressed Sofia was the story of a teenage queen and that’s
what she tells – a girl’s story. It is almost a “girlie
movie” – the teen girl of 200 years ago meets the saucy
voluptuous materialistic teens of today and loving it all. It’s
a cheeky form of “Girl Power.”
Austrian born and whisked away, then stripped of any of the traces
of her background, she is further demeaned by the young future King
Louis XVI, who could not, or would not, consummate the marriage
until seven years later when the much needed heir was born. Without
real friends, and mentally and physically corseted to a fair-thee-well
by court etiquette and bad public relations, Marie took to overdoses
of luxury of which there was a whole lot. What does a wealthy, healthy
girl want? How about creamy, tall, airy cake? Shoes are good, plenty
of them and you can’t have too many jewels. How can you enjoy
all the great parties without those things? Gee, that party monster
– drinking ‘til dawn, fattening pastries stuck in your
ears, and all those unmentionable Frenchie things. In turbulent
frustration, Marie escalated high style to new heights, like hairdos.
Take the mile-high pouf, immortalized today by Marge Simpson’s
blue tower of frizzy passion.
Under the ornate wigs is equally baroque casting: Marie’s
Austrian Empress mother is (hold on!) the British Rock Goddess,
Marianne Faithful. Maria’s limp wristed husband is Jason Schwartzman.
Rip Torn plays the old King Louis XV with all the vim and white
wine vinegar the French King allows him. Still steeped in Eurotrash
dressing is Asia Argento as his crude mistress, Madame Du Barry.
Judy Davis as the Comtesse de Noailles is Marie’s persnickety
maintainer of protocol. She chides, instructs, scolds and rather
vainly attempts to keep the aristocratic rituals intact or at best
keep the misconduct well hidden under the large hooped skirts and
layers of petticoats where there’s barely enough room under
covers for the Court’s many peccadillos. Par exemple, Antoinette
takes a handsome Swedish nobleman as a lover. The Petit Trianon
becomes their playground. They romp, she play acts, they read, they
mess around and become the object of awful gossip and pounding-on-the-door
anger. By the time someone answers the door it is too late.
The filmmaker has kept the restless revolutionary times behind pink
gauze, so as not to sully the fantasia-like languor the Queen floated
in. She does the same with her being cut down in her prime. There’s
no need to see the final execution. The demise of her sinfully delicious
existence is touching enough, even though we’ve viewed her
few years merely as a slice of life. Mais sacre bleu! What a heady,
light and delicious slice of cake it is. History says she never
suggested the peasants partake in any.
This peasant says, “Dive in!”
Guy-Jean de Fraumeni is the producer/writer/director of award-winning
European and American feature films. He has been a judge at major
film and TV award competitions, including the Oscars, the Emmys
and various film festivals. Sarah Halsey assists him.
