LA REINE MARGOT (Queen Margot, 1994) **1/2 French royalty gave them plenty to be aghast about and Alexandre Dumas gave them a complex plot to hang things on, the costume people came up with some groovin' duds, and Patrice Chéreau contributed enough blunt shots (blood and sex) to confuse critics into thinking it's an art film, but the reality is that this is basically classics prepared for consumption of the masses. That isn't a bad thing, the masses could use more classics. In general, anyway, not so sure about this particular novel but it lends itself reasonably well to cinematic treatment. Isabelle Adjani sets the tone with an interesting, but not brilliant, performance. She gets enough into it that you can't help feel for her, despite her sordid past, and given the astonishing levels to which the Medicis could debase all things sordid that's no small complement. Following her amiably tragic and revolting lead, Virna Lisi is a gallows ghoul of a Medici mom, Vincent Perez a sports cream commercial of a farmer lad, Daniel Auteuil a garbage metal guitarist's conception of decadent royalty, Jean Hugues-Anglade the same guitarist's idea of a drug addled king without cojones, Asia Argento the aspirational prototype for corporate whores, and Dominique Blanc a Manhattan socialite's delighted dream of perverse domestic help. So it's an olden tyme tale in which most contempoary representations of decadence are represented. Don't forget to notice, though, all of the uproar is purportedly in the service of good Christian values.
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