Film Review: "Chevalier"
The new period film uses the convention of the costume drama to shed light on one of music history's great hidden figures.
If you know anything about my cinematic tastes, you know that I’m a sucker for a costume drama. Plop me down in some past period–Tudor England, say, or Revolutionary France–and I’m almost certainly going to enjoy what you have to offer. Though the genre isn’t quite as popular as it was in the 1990s and 2000s, every so often one comes along that, by challenging either the formal or narrative conventions of the genre, manages to set itself apart. Chevalier, which focuses on the eventful and tragic life of Joseph Bologne, the Chevalier de Saint-Georges, certainly accomplishes the latter, though on the former it is more traditional than iconoclastic.
For, you see, Bologne is a brilliant musician and composer and fencer, some who manages, through sheer grit and determination and charm, to make his way to the very highest rungs of French society, rubbing elbows with none other than Marie Antoinette herself. Unfortunately, though he manages to attain the rank of Chevalier, he can never quite achieve the greatness that is undeniably his due, because he is of mixed race: while his father is a White plantation owner in Guadeloupe, his mother, Nanon, is a slave. As the French Revolution gathers, Bologne strains against the limits imposed by his race and by the racist, classist, and deeply broken society which surrounds him, his personal and professional lives constantly marred by tragedy and thwarted opportunities.
Kelvin Harrison Jr. is undeniably fantastic in the role. Bologne frequently presents a chill, rather aloof face to the world, but this is entirely understandable. From the time that he was young and sent by his father to train at an elite boys’ academy, he’s been subjected to abuse of various kinds: physical, emotional, mental, and even political, since his very presence is seen as a danger by many of the upper echelons of Parisian society. Though undeniably brilliant–as skilled in dueling as he is at playing violin–he is still caught in a prison not of his own making, constantly reminded by everyone of his own “inferior” status and of how much of a favor they are doing him by even allowing him in their midst.
For a time, it seems as if Marie-Josephine (Samara Weaving), a marquise who just happens to sing opera, will provide him a way out. The two embark on a forbidden affair, a dalliance made worse by Marie-Josephine’s married status and her bucking of her husband’s command that she not perform in the Chevalier’s opera. Of course, this all comes crashing down into ruin when said husband returns, and while Marie-Josephine clearly still loves her Chevalier, she can’t be with him. Weaving imbues her character with mingled rebelliousness and sadness, with the latter coming to the fore with more intensity after their affair is discovered and their child is slain by her dour, humorless husband (played by Marton Csokas, who you might recognize as Celeborn from The Lord of the Rings).
Into this seething cauldron steps the Chevalier’s mother, who arrives after the death of the man who enslaved her (Bologne’s father). Ronkẹ Adékoluẹjo is superbly cast as Nanon, and she constantly reminds her son that, for all of his accomplishments and his undeniable musical soul, he’ll never be looked at as anything other than inferior by those whose approval he so desperately craves. Adékoluẹjo brings a sharp warmth to the role, and it’s clear how much her son’s pain hurts her. Fortunately, she introduces him to the world of other people of color dwelling in Paris, who provide the beleaguered Chevalier with a welcome respite from the court and all its poisonous maneuverings.
And then, of course, there’s the nascent Revolution. While Bologne spends his time angling for the lofty position of director of the Paris Opera, his friend, Louis Philippe II (Alex Fitzalan), himself a member of the royal family, is busy stirring the embers until they erupt into the fires of revolution and outright revolt. Having been spurred by his former ally, none other than Marie Antoinette herself (an icy and often distant Lucy Boynton), the Chevalier decides to flaunt royal authority and compose and perform music in accordance with the sentiments of the Revolution. The film’s final scene involves him facing down his lover’s angry husband, who has been ordered by the Queen to arrest him. History, and the crowds, are on his side, however and, as the film ends, he strides purposefully into the future, leaving Marie Antoinette behind to be consumed by the mobs who are, even now, calling for an end to the monarchy itself.
Chevalier is, in many ways, exactly what you’d expect of a costume drama of this sort. There are gatherings of gaudily-dressed courtiers who snipe and snap at one another (Minnie Driver is superb as Marie-Madeleine Guimard, an opera singer who makes amorous gestures toward the Chevalier, which he rejects, earning him her undying enmity), as well as glimpses of the streets of Paris and the halls of power and the quiet, pristine aisles of cathedrals. In that sense, it’s a pretty straightforward piece of genre entertainment.
Where it truly excels, however, is in weaving together the Chevalier’s personal life and struggles with the broader political and social world of which he is a part. When he begins to contemplate joining the Revolution, it’s clear that he does so because, at least at this point, there is a promise that the world that the uprising creates might be one that is more welcoming to those who aren’t white. His emotional heartbreak–made all the more acute by the murder of his baby son–thus dovetails with this anger at the stubborn refusal of the French nobility and royalty to reckon with the way that the world is changing around them, whether they like it or not.
Chevalier, like Belle before it, does the important work of reminding us of the presence of people of color in earlier periods of European history. Far often, the costume drama in all of its manifestations has preferred to push the question of race as far into the background as possible. While much of the Chevalier de Saint-Georges’ work was destroyed during the reign of Napoleon (so much for the egalitarian promises of the Revolution), scholars and historians have begun to bring him out of the shadows. Watching this film, one can well believe John Adams’ claim that the Chevalier was the most talented man in Europe. Let us hope that many more such costume dramas are forthcoming.