In the great tradition of deconstructive, revisionist, demoralizing 1990s French historical pieces (Le Roi Danse, Vatel, etc.) comes yet another unjustifiable horror, this time attacking the memory of Mme de Maintenon (wife of Louis XIV). This turgid post-modern melodrama has all the required ingredients by which France's period films of late are expected to regularly shoot themselves in the foot and reflect badly on their country of origin: great costumes and sets and great photography, marred by bad, zombie-like acting (especially on the part of the younger players), faulty narration (to the point that the viewer literally has no clue about whether the players are coming or going), unrealistic dialogue, too literary, yet never to the point, a pervading sense of urgency (every scene is a fresh drama demonstrating that life is a piece of crap devoid of any comic relief), plenty of medical emergencies like in any afternoon TV soap opera, numerous non sequiturs as if the viewer is to be condemned at every turn for caring about what happens next and about a healthy narrative arc. The general impression is one of depression, anemia and absurdity. Oh yes, and plenty of body fluids... The viewer honestly doesn't want to believe any of this happened the way it is shown. We want to believe the history of France and of its greatest characters had some purpose. The music is a horrible hodge-podge of electronic throw-aways and period pieces. The film's style has borrowed all the more questionable elements that make the worst films of Bresson, Godard and Marguerite Duras terminally boring and pointless but without talent, unity and vision. On a more positive note, this film has convinced me to renounce ever seeing another Isabelle Huppert vehicle. I would rather sow lint bunnies into a Gobelins tapestry. The cheery bird songs over the end titles weren't bad, though, but they came a little too late for my taste.
