If the recent queen’s funeral and the king’s coronation aren’t enough royal reverence for you, Cannes Film Festival’s opening night choice, actor-director maïwenn‘S Jeanne du Barry, to satisfy cravings. The film about King Louis XV’s last official mistress, lavishly devoted to the grandeur of Versailles before the Revolution, both its opulent glamour, and its suspenseful social drama. The film is an odd choice to open France’s biggest film festival, as protests against austerity are raging across the country. Is such blind 1 percent worship really what people want?
However, the film is as compelling as it is sinisterly absurd. Its attire is chic and eye-catching, its polite conspiracies keep the stakes pleasantly low. The looming revolution is only mentioned, in a sad tone, in the dubbing at the end. If not, Jeanne du Barry want you to feel imaginary.
Jeanne du Barry was a commoner prostitute, witty and well-read, noticed by many of France’s elite men before she was introduced to Louis. Maïwenn portrays the playful and charming Jeanne, a passionate woman whose only sin is trying to rise above her status. And, of course, love the king. We’ve had less serious versions of this story in many movies before, from Beautiful Woman ARRIVE Prince and I, and Maïwenn deftly expose many of the genre’s precious pitfalls: revealing fashion, kind servants giving Jeanne a warm smile conspiratorially (thinking) Hector Elizondo), and of course, a group of bitter haters determined to put Jeanne back in her place.
Maïwenn certainly made a bold casting choice when she hired herself to play this vivacious, beautiful woman scorned by the shrewd ladies of the court and guarded by men. worship. However, Maïwenn still sells it. Despite everything one knows about Versailles’ terrible, greedy excesses, Jeanne du Barry invest us in the romance novel version of things. Jeanne was, according to Maïwenn, a kind and noble person, a hero worthy of cheering.
That’s not to say the film isn’t without its nasty passions. Jeanne is given a black child by her lover, a slave, a gruesome act that the film uses to demonstrate Jeanne’s open compassion. Will she free the boy named Zamor? No, but she let him be her servant. That’s fair. In real life, Zamor announced his betrayal of Jeanne during the Revolution, which resulted in her beheading. But the film is shy about it, simply noting that Zamor abandoned his master when everyone had to “choose sides”. Maïwenn’s complete disinterest in politics in her story has never been more apparent than in that case, an arrogant dismissal of something as troublesome as setting.
There is also the issue of Maïwenn’s personal controversies, including public statements against–#MeToo and an incident in which she spat at a journalist who claimed to be abusive. retaliatory action for reporting sexual assault allegations against the director, Maïwenn’s ex-husband. Luc Besson. (Besson has denied all the charges, and a Paris judge has dismissed a rape case against him after an investigation.) It’s hard to separate all of that out. Jeanne du Barryhabit of suspecting women and favoring men, the way the film savors the sex capital and treats Jeanne’s detractors as jealous lovers.
And there is a fact that Maïwenn cast Johnny Depp, no stranger to his ugly scandal, to play Louis. Looking pale and tired, Depp haunts the film like a grim ghost — he’s not exactly a flashy lover. For Depp fans, I can say that he seems to speak French well. For those who were no longer enamored with the actor, at least Louis contracted smallpox and died.
Despite those ugly associations, Jeanne du Barry is guilty entertainment, teasing and ahistorical and basically engaging. In that sense, it succeeded — just as it did as a ploy to get media attention to kick Cannes off with a bang.
