Marie Antoinette

As the young over-privileged offspring of Hollywood royalty, Sofia Coppola was critically beheaded for the disastrous performance she gave in her father’s film, The Godfather: Part 3. It’s therefore no wonder why she would be attracted to the story of Marie Antionette, the young over-privileged offspring of Austrian royalty whose disastrous reign led to her own literal beheading. When Marie laments that “letting everyone down” would be her “greatest unhappiness”, while being informed that “all eyes” will be on her, it’s impossible not to sense the parallels between the character and the filmmaker. Not that Sofia denies any similarities. This may be one of the most personalized period-pieces ever made. Why, then, is it so full of style, flash, color – and little else?

With her acting range still limited by typecasting, Kirsten Dunst once again stars as a gorgeous teen whose natural beauty is deemed too perfect for this foul world. As 14-year-old Marie, she’s whisked away to Versailles, where her marriage to Louis XVI will strengthen ties between Austria and France. Louis is played by Jason Schwartzman, who generates laughs simply by batting his puppy-dog eyes, which frequently well up with childlike impotence. The pressure put upon Marie to consummate her marriage with the sexually dysfunctional Louis is further intensified by the insufferable regulations plaguing her everyday existence. Yet Marie maintains her curious pluck, and momentarily flourishes within the French upper-crust, delving into its materialism, scandals, and gossip worthy of a Facebook post.

This is Coppola’s third directorial feature, following The Virgin Suicides and Lost in Transition, and she once again displays a knack for creating mood pieces fraught with bewitching melancholy. I’m still unsure about whether she’s mastered the art of storytelling. There just doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of depth beyond the film’s sumptuous and admittedly impressive visuals. My sister, who accompanied me to the film’s screening, admitted that within the film’s opening minutes, she already wanted to wear Marie’s clothes. Lance Acord’s cinematography and Milena Canonero’s costumes make everything onscreen seem as edible as the food Marie feasts upon. The orderly compositions of certain shots recall the structured extravagance of Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon, yet this may be the first costume drama I’ve seen where the actors project an open awareness that they are indeed wearing costumes.

With the exception of Schwartzman, nearly every cast member is wasted. I would have gladly seen more of Rip Torn as Louis XV, Steve Coogan as Ambassador Mercy, and especially Judy Davis as Marie’s rigid taskmaster, Comtesse de Noailles. Sporting a formidably stern glare, regally flaring nostrils, and a sharply chiseled neck, Davis is an uproarious presence to behold. She makes Dunst seem all the more inadequate of a choice to carry this gigantic enterprise. It isn’t that Dunst is a bad actress; she’s actually quite a winning charmer. Her lackluster portrayal can’t be entirely faulted, since it’s surrounded by a film seemingly constructed out of nothing but shiny surfaces.

Nevertheless, there are moments in Coppola’s film that graze the face of greatness. Marie frolics along a garden with her daughter, in a sequence as beautiful and tender as anything captured on film. Coppola gets a lot of satirical mileage off of ludicrous French traditions, particularly one which forces a naked Marie to bow before various visitors, thus delaying her chance to be clothed. The princess’s utter lack of privacy is also effectively depicted, and Coppola uses music from her own teenage years to punctuate Marie’s rocky journey through adolescence. Yet this autobiographical approach includes an utter lack of interest in historical detail. Influenced by the vastly superior Amadeus, Coppola allows her actors to speak in their normal accents, a stunt more jarring than it is enjoyable.

Marie Antoinette works up to a point. Dunst’s performance could be duplicated, and undoubtedly improved, by countless other actresses, and that may be the point. Coppola seems to intend this film to be a universally relatable portrait of ancient history, one that any contemporary viewer could see themselves imprisoned within. Scenes float by, consisting of a dreamlike rhythm and inconsequential detail that is starting to emerge as a trademark of Coppola’s work. The result is a thoroughly enjoyable series of images that never truly manages to form into a satisfying film. The delectable landscapes and mouth-watering eye candy are plentiful. Yet whenever the audience hungers for substance, Coppola offers nothing but cake.

Rating: ***1/2 (out of *****)