Posted: 10/22/2006

Marie Antoinette

(2006)

by Karen Petruska

Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette features some of her directorial signatures: luscious imagery, a heroine forced into an uncomfortable environment, and a hip, pop tone. Previews and malcontent rumblings led me to believe that Coppola blended historical time periods in some sort of an anachronistic symphony. Yet in fact she has created a precision costume drama that pays meticulous attention to the etiquette of Versailles-brand pomp and circumstance.

Anachronism enters the film more as a wink, as in the first image of Kirsten Dunst as French Queen Marie Antoinette, lying on a chaise next to an elaborate tiered cake. Antoinette wears a light white undergarment while her maid slips her delicate shoes upon her foot. Dunst turns to the camera and offers a knowing wink. Marie Antoinette is perhaps best known for something she never did—disparaging the starving peasants by saying “let them eat cake.” Historians have never found evidence that the French queen uttered this silly, offensive phrase. With this wink, Coppola lets us know that she intends to play with legend and lore, finding the real woman somewhere in the middle.

This film works best in the first half when Coppola investigates the minutiae of everyday life in Versailles. Antoinette does not choose her life, and Coppola’s script (based on Antonia Fraser’s novel Marie Antoinette: The Journey) depicts a highly sympathetic queen. As Antoinette, Dunst creates a sweet and clueless young woman, who is haunted by the constant whisper of disparagement throughout the castle. Unable to produce an heir due to her husband’s disinterest in sex, Antoinette suffers continual humiliation. She is also frequently reminded by her mother’s letters how fragile her position within the court is. Yet she copes with these hardships by embracing the frivolous.

Coppola doesn’t pretend that Antoinette has more substance than evidenced by historical research. In one scene, Antoinette ignores her advisor’s attempts to school her in the political happenings of the world because she is too busy choosing a sleeve style for a new dress to listen to him. Aside from one touching scene in which Dunst releases a flood of tears after witnessing another woman’s successful birth of a son, her attempts at spunk seem hollow. A love affair with a Swedish royal also does little to flesh out the character. Coppola fails to give us access to the inner life of Antoinette. We see her smile, flirt, and shop, but we never dig beneath the surface.

The film’s structure doesn’t help Coppola reveal her main character. She sticks to traditional scenery and music for much of the start of the film, but at a certain point, she inserts 80s pop rock by bands such as The Strokes and The Cure. Though this helps highlight the youthful nature of her heroine, it does little to move the story forward. Montage sequences that expose the excesses of Antoinette’s life, including gambling, drinking, and shopping, mimic the quick cut-editing of MTV but again function as little more than a fun distraction. These montage sequences do not highlight a moment of discovery or enlightenment, nor do they introduce new conflicts or advance the character development.

Coppola seems to lose her way half way through the film. The latter part of the film lacks the strong forward momentum of Antoinette’s struggle to produce an heir. Coppola loses her drive after the birth of Antoinette’s son, and the audience loses its reason for watching the film. Antoinette’s friendship with her husband (Jason Schwartzman) is underwritten, and too often, Antoinette experiences conflict only through hearsay and intermediaries. Coppola fails to provide for her heroine moments of engagement with other characters that would help define her own character.

Marie Antoinette is a gorgeous film to watch. The images in Coppola’s film radiate from the screen, especially the gilded walls of Versailles. Milena Canonero has created costumes of tremendous beauty. She dresses Antoinette in elaborate pastel garments, but she seems to have most fun dressing the tacky king’s mistress, Madame du Barry (Asia Argento). Food also plays a central role in the film, with montage sequences that highlight the architecture of elaborate cakes and dessert towers. This film is not for anyone trying to avoid carbs or sugar, but it is certainly visually stunning.

One of the most striking visuals in the film comes near the end. Antoinette and Louis sit in their dining room eating dinner while a peasant mob shouts outside their window. As they eat, the ritual of dining that Coppola carefully develops during the early part of the film continues with out reference to the mob outside. This scene draws upon the context of the first half while also adding the intriguing layer of the royals’ determined refusal to acknowledge the world outside Versailles. The rest of the film lacks this expediency of storytelling. Without a clear focus, the movie ends on a whimper.

Karen Petruska is a film critic living in Chicago.

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