3/18/19

Colette Doesn't Do Its Subject Justice


Colette (2018)
Directed by Wash Westmoreland
Bleecker Street, 111 minutes, R (nudity, sexuality)
★★

Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette (1873-1954) was a fascinating individual who pushed the boundaries of what was acceptable. Although she often scandalized polite society, she became an important force in both French literature and cultural change. Four books on the adventures, loves, and life of her alter ego "Claudine" appeared between 1900-03 under her husband's name, Henry  ("Willy) Gauthier-Villars' name before their volcanic marriage erupted irreparably. Colette—she tended to use just her last name in public—went on to pen over 30 books under her own byname, the most famous of which is Gigi (1944), which received several film treatments. Colette was also a bisexual adventurer who married and divorced three times, and took numerous lovers, including another fascinating individual, Mathilde de Morny, known as "Missy," who dressed and presented as male. How did get away with that? She was also the Marquise de Balbeuf and Napoleon III's niece.

There's so much material with which to work that Colette has its moments, but for the most part it is a mediocre treatment of fascinating individuals. The best performance by far comes from Dominic West as Willy. We meet him as he sweeps country girl Gabrielle/Colette off her feet and brings her to Paris as his new wife. We see from the beginning that he is a cad, a bully, an egoist, a sexual libertine, and a fraud masquerading as an intellectual. He described himself as a "literary entrepreneur," a nice way of saying that reviews, commentary, articles, and books largely or entirely written by others appeared with his name on them. This included Claudine at School, which was a literary blockbuster, which Colette wrote. West plays Willy with outsized bombast that befits his character. We understand why women are attracted to him, as well as why they weary of him. His male friends see through him, but they tolerate him longer because he is like Ernest Hemingway: a man's man.

Also fine was Eleanor Tomlinson as Georgie Raoul-Duval, an American-born socialite married to a French mine owner. She will become the lover of both Colette and Willy, to the chagrin of each. Tomlinson plays Georgie as outwardly demure, but inwardly ruthless.  Timlinson wears her pale beauty like a thinly dusted mask that falls by the wayside when she bears her fangs. Fiona Shaw is also fine in an extended cameo as Sido, Colette's mother.  

Denise Gough isn't quite convincing as "Missy." She's done up to look a bit like a younger Ellen DeGeneres, which isn't quite the right body type. De Morny was far more manly in presentation and was seldom as forthcoming with the "girl talk" in which she engages in the film. The film does get it right in one important sense; she and Colette lived together after Colette left Willy in 1905, and the two shared a lesbian kiss on at the Moulin Rouge stage in 1907 that led to rioting in the theatre and put the kibosh to their ability to share a domicile. 

Aiysha Hart plays Polaire, the actress that assumed the persona of Colette on the French stage. She is fierce, assertive, and commanding. Would that Keira Knightley had half of her presence in her role as the actual Colette. I am increasingly of the opinion that Knightley is a poor man's Natalie Portman. Unlike Portman, Knightley merely looks like she fits into roles that ought to go to actresses with more gravitas and skill. This to say that Portman would have devoured a role at which Knightley merely nibbles. Her mannerisms are too modern, as is the attitude-laden smirk upon her face when she tries to display sarcasm or contempt. Like this movie, Knightley isn't terrible, just so blandly middle of the road that she's the thing we remember least from the film.

Let's also give a boo hiss to director Westmoreland for his suggestion that post-Willy Colette won the renown and acclaim she deserved. She was indeed a skilled writer, though much of her work would today be classified as soft porn romance literature. It should have at least warranted mention that her third marriage was to a Jewish man sixteen years her junior who fled Paris when it fell to the Nazis in 1940. Colette stayed behind and wrote anti-Semitic articles. No easy heroine she.

Let's also call out Westmoreland for making a film about a complex and controversial figure that is limp and lifeless. It is a film of surfaces without depth, the sort that makes one merely shrug when it's over. A character such as Colette should make you roar.

Rob Weir 





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