Reviewed by Michael Edwards
Stars Asia Argento, Fu'ad Ait Aattou, Roxane Mesquida, Claude Sarraute, Yolande Moreau, Michael Lonsdale, Anne Parillaud
Written by Catherine Breillat, based on the
novel by Jules-Amedee Barbey d'Aurevilly
Certification UK 15 | Australia R
Runtime 114 minutes
Directed by Catherine Breillat
Feisty French courter of controversy Catherine Breillat returns with an uncharacteristically lavish piece, a period drama no less, based on the nineteenth-century novel by d'Aurevilly. The core of the movie is libertine Ryno who is planning to marry a noble young lady, thus foresaking his pleasure-seeking ways. Flitting between gossipy nobles, nostalgic flashbacks, and a confused and intensely emotional present the film narrates a tale of a man enthralled by women, at their mercy, but more than that, at the mercy of his own unchecked desires.
All the usual themes relating to gender and sexuality are thrown up in the course of the film, with the boundaries blurred between the bewitched effeminate male protagonist Ryno and his strong and compelling mistress from whose thrall he so desperately seeks to escape. It is certainly an interesting film, and grabs attention not just through Breillat's customarily detailed sexuality and intense emotional conflict, but through the carefully crafted costumes and sets which provide sufficient eye-candy for those occasionally lost in the meandering tale. The overall effect is a lavish and detailed cinematic experience which engages as much as it challenges. The main problem is that it doesn't really offer much hope. The nostalgia for the excesses of the eighteenth-century (the story is set in 183?) may well provide some explanation for the difficulties faced by the characters, but occasionally feels a little like a present day nostalgia for the free loving 1960s when complications were OK rather than a heavy moral burden.
I have a little inkling that period dramas aren't really in vogue at the moment, and thus this film may suffer even in its arthouse niche. Entertaining for its opulent imagery as much as for its depth of character, The Last Mistress has the power to engage, but its occasionally long-winded storytelling devices and depressing portrayal of the futility of the situations of its characters lodge it firmly in that category of the weighty period drama which, like the mighty onion, requires a lot of layer removal and the shedding of a few tears to obtain the full flavour.