As a seasoned gamer with a penchant for historical dramas, I must say that “The Flood” (Le Déluge) left me both captivated and perplexed. The film offers an intimate portrayal of Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette during their final days in the Temple Prison, a stark contrast to their glamorous lives before. It’s like playing an immersive video game where you start at the climax and work your way back to the beginning.
The well-known French expression, “After me, the flood,” is commonly linked to Louis XV, who used it to indicate his indifference towards the world’s state after his passing. If things crumbled, so be it. However, it was Louis XVI, his grandson, who experienced this phrase most fittingly. He was dethroned during the French Revolution and ultimately executed by guillotine. Alongside the death of his wife, Marie-Antoinette, their demise signaled the end of the monarchy and the peak of the Reign of Terror. This event also marked the beginning of one of the earliest modern democracies, with its glories and shortcomings.
The final, tragic days of Louis XVI and Marie-Antoinette, leading up to their executions, are the focus of the movie “The Flood” (Le Déluge) by Italian director Gianluca Jodice (The Bad Poet). Unlike other historical dramas such as Jean Renoir’s “La Marseillaise,” Sofia Coppola’s “Marie-Antoinette,” or Benoît Jacquot’s “Farewell, My Queen,” this film concentrates solely on the time when the royal couple were imprisoned prior to their executions. While it portrays Louis’ death, it does not delve into Marie-Antoinette’s, a subject that has often been treated peripherally in other historical dramas which usually depict the lives of the king and queen before they fell from grace.
In this reinterpretation, the duo finds themselves at their lowest point, struggling with the fallout, confined within the Temple Prison – an unsavory stronghold situated in the heart of Paris – alongside their offspring and a select band of faithful servants. Faced with their strained marriage, the squandering of their immense fortune, and the end of a millennium-long monarchy, they strive to find solace amidst hardship. Remarkably, they evolve into more exposed and admirable individuals, displaying qualities that were previously hidden. It’s possible that the Revolution wasn’t as detrimental for them as initially thought.
Although it’s common knowledge about the final outcome of their tale, Jodice and co-author Filippo Gravino creatively explore the events leading up to it. They portray the king and queen as individuals undergoing various hardships, which ultimately shape and develop their characters.
Initially, Louis (portrayed by Guillaume Canet) appears as a puzzled monarch, seemingly overwhelmed by his responsibilities. However, he transforms into an enlightened and compassionate patriarch, demonstrating the courage to die with grace. On the other hand, Marie-Antoinette (played by Mélanie Laurent) initially comes across as a volatile royal figure, preoccupied with her romantic affairs. As time progresses, and her husband is led away for execution at the Place de la Concorde in full view of many spectators, she reveals herself to be compassionate and fiercely devoted to her family.
It’s debatable whether any part of this story is factual, and “The Flood” seems to lean more towards speculative storytelling rather than historical documentation. As mentioned in the opening, the narrative is based on the journal of Louis’ personal valet, Jean-Baptiste Cléry, portrayed by Fabrizio Rongione. At certain points, the movie appears to be a defense of the French monarchy, presenting the king and queen as victims rather than the reckless and often unmerciful rulers history portrays them to be.
Simultaneously, revolutionaries are often depicted as ruthless and cruel individuals, eager to embarrass the royals at every turn. This is illustrated in one scene where a corrupt prison guard (Hugo Dillon) manipulates Marie-Antoinette into a sexual relationship, using promises of special privileges to do so.
In some instances where the story may appear overly dramatic, the skillful portrayals by both Canet and Laurent prevent the iconic duo from becoming mere stereotypes.
In many screen portrayals, Louis first appears as a gloomy, detached figure seemingly disconnected from reality, indifferent towards the impending collapse of his empire while clinging to the hope that divine intervention will restore order. However, director Canet skillfully uncovers an unexpected facet of this ruler, presenting him as more cunning than anticipated. He seems well-informed about his wife’s numerous extramarital affairs, accepting them as a common aspect of royal life. Moreover, when he learns that the républicains have sentenced him to death, he handles it with remarkable composure, attempting to soften the impact on his family.
Except for Kirsten Dunst’s enchanting portrayal in the Coppola film, Marie-Antoinette hasn’t been particularly well-liked in mainstream culture. In this year’s Paris Olympics opening ceremony, she was depicted singing rock opera, seemingly enjoying holding a replica of her own decapitated head.
As I delve deeper into this game, Laurent breathes life into Marie-Antoinette, portraying her as a shrewd woman who turns a blind eye to Louis’ imperfections and hypocrisies for the sake of upholding appearances. “My husband is an honest man,” she confidentially whispers to me early on, “the only flaw he has is that he’s king.”
In the second part of the movie, the actress delivers some exaggerated, awkward scenes as it becomes evident that the queen’s fate is sealed. Despite this, she subtly acknowledges the overwhelming pressure the couple faced due to intense public criticism. In a poignant farewell conversation with her husband, she admits, “The parts we played were larger than life for us.”
Jodice is worthy of recognition as he delved deeply into the lives of two individuals who have not fared well in history, consistently exploring the grim aspects of the French Revolution. During the year following Louis’ execution, approximately 40,000 people met their end, many of them victims of the guillotine. This period was aptly named the Reign of Terror due to its violent nature.
If the director’s account seems biased, it’s likely due to his strong emotional connection with the two aristocrat characters, who may not have been inherently wicked but symbolized a system that had amassed too much harm for the French people. The negative effects of this system are largely concealed from the audience, as the narrative primarily focuses on a limited number of interior scenes beautifully framed by cinematographer Daniele Ciprì, evoking the style of Peter Greenaway with its tableau-like imagery.
As a dedicated viewer, I must admit that while the film was captivating in many ways, its narrow focus was undeniably its greatest shortcoming. It left me yearning for a broader perspective on the profound transformations unfolding beyond the prison’s confines. Granted, Louis and Marie-Antoinette were blind to the people’s will until it ultimately cost them dearly, but that doesn’t excuse the director from making the same mistake. It seems that Jodice is so engrossed in his subjects that he fails to appreciate the larger context.
After their demises, what ensued was not just any flood, but a powerful one that swept away millennia of tyranny, clearing the path for the society we inhabit today. While “The Flood” portrays this as an ending, it was actually the start of something new.
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2024-08-07 23:26