#487: La Révolution française
A straightforward retelling of a revolution that was anything but straightforward
Initial release: May 1989
Director: Robert Enrico (Part 1) / Richard T. Heffron (Part 2)
I’ve often said that history does not exist, that it’s not a real thing any more than gender, or economics, or midwesterners saying “ope” before it was a meme. At best, it’s a dry collection of events that we’ve placed in order, minus their context or any understanding of what makes those events significant. At worst, it’s a tool used by fascists to further construct false consciousness. So what can I say about La Révolution française, the multinational, government-funded, $50 million dollar, star-studded, sprawling two-part dramatization about the most important event of the 18th century? (Americans who aren’t me, log off.)
Well, let’s start with the basics: It’s a film that tries to put together a complete and accurate account of the events of the French Revolution, beginning with the dire financial straits that triggered it, and ending with the death of Robespierre. Across two parts (each essentially a film in their own right, with their own director) and a cumulative five hours, La Révolution française is a historical epic tour-de-force in the classic mode, the kind of film that used to get made all the time in the 1960s. And like a lot of those films, it chooses to forego any sort of coherent focus to instead give a blow-by-blow of the historical events with little of the context. We learn very little about the inner workings of the revolutionary government, or the material conditions among the common people that sparked the revolution in the first place. Nor do we see much of the tensions between the moneyed, privileged upper middle class revolutionaries and the angry, dirty commoners they claim to be fighting for.
We open with a very young Robespierre being comforted by his friend Camille Desmoulins, after the former is splashed with mud by the king’s horse. Fast forward twenty years and the two are now adults, and they’ve got some brilliant ideas on how to fix France. It’s not enough that France is broke and people are starving — the people have no voice whatsoever, no recourse. The king is an absolute monarch who, in spite of a history of portrayals that present him as a young, possibly neurodivergent nerd who’s deep in over his head, is generally illiberal and unwilling to make any serious moves to address the issues plaguing his country if it means loosening his grip on power, and the nobility are even worse. (The film’s funding from the French government is obvious in how gleefully it throws Marie Antoinette under the bus, but she’s otherwise a very minor character with only a few key scenes, most of which have her saying villain shit.)
The first act ends with the situation deteriorating with the royal family to the point of violence; before the second act is halfway done, Louis and Marie are dead, kicking off the Reign of Terror as Robespierre and his inner circle assume power. All the little historical events are checked off, from Marat’s assassination to Danton’s execution, to Robespierre’s attempt to flee. With so much going on in the film, there’s little room for sweeping cinematography or a coherent narrative, but it does eventually coalesce around a small cast of characters, namely King Louis, Danton, Desmoulins and Robespierre, with a little bit of the Marquis de Lafayette (played by none other than Sam Neill, who I didn’t even know spoke French!)
For such a massive film, the most expensive film France had made at that point, I’m surprised at just how sedate the direction is. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it lifeless, but a lot of it feels made-for-TV, rarely daring to even put the camera on a crane. It’s some of the most workmanlike cinematography I’ve seen in a film of this size, and while Richard Heffron’s direction of the second half is more interesting than Robert Enrico’s handling of the first half, both are generally very straightforward. In fairness to Heffron, however, his film presents a better understanding of pacing and drama than Enrico (who suffered the indignity of trying to cram a very busy three years into one two-and-a-half-hour movie.) Under Heffron, the film eventually coalesces around a more coherent narrative with the Revolutionaries and making Louis and Marie’s ultimate fate actually feel momentous and not just a high school history lesson.
And despite a star-studded cast, some of whom will be quite recognizable to Anglophones (Sam Neill! Christopher Lee! Peter Ustinov!) as well as a bevy of European superstars, some of whom are even French, the acting is generally kind of uneven. Jean-François Balmer turns in a subtle, nuanced role as King Louis XVI, but Klaus Maria Brandauer as Danton is more like Gerard Depardieu usually is than Gerard Depardieu was in his own turn in the role. Despite this, Brandauer is saved somewhat by the second act, which is just overall a better film and gives room for the character to breathe, both physically and dramatically, which is all important for Danton as a character as the historical figure was a big dude with a larger-than-life personality.
Finding La Révolution française is actually something of a tall order. The first half is viewable on Amazon Prime Video in my particular part of the world (mislabeled, at that) but the other half is unavailable. To my knowledge, the film isn’t available on any other streaming site either. You could order it on DVD, perhaps… if you can find it. And don’t ask for English subtitles either, as it’s never been officially released in the Anglosphere. There are fan subtitles out there, though, if you know where to look.
I don’t regret my time with La Révolution française; it’s an interesting film despite its almost total box office failure, but it has a lot of the same problems as many historical epics of similar scope: a lot of who did what, how and where, but very little of the why.
