THE TAKING OF POWER BY LOUIS XIV (Rossellini, 1966)
Criterion Collection, DVD, Release Date January 13, 2009
Review by Christopher S. Long
Louis XIV’s transformation from a
puppet ruler to the Sun King did not unfold as a grand dramatic arc,
though there was drama along the way, but as a series of
administrative decisions, conversations, and even a few strategic
changes of clothing. In “The Taking of Power by Louis XIV” (1966)
director Roberto Rossellini focuses on the details of daily living
that led to the ascension of France’s most powerful king, minutiae
piling up into the mountains of history.
The film begins with the death of
Cardinal Mazarin in 1661. Mazarin, successor to the better-know
Cardinal Richelieu, was the Chief Minister of France while Louis XIV
was a child, and he wielded tremendous power. Mazarin’s death left
a void that few people expected the 22 year-old layabout king to
fill. Louis, fond of hunting and gaming, could easily have delegated
authority to the usual suspects, but instead chose, in a halting,
nervous, step-by-step way, to gradually invest more and more of the
state’s authority in the monarchy.
Louis, acting in concert with some of
Mazarin’s advisors, enacted a series of changes to law and ritual
so modest on the surface that they don’t occupy a prominent place
in history books. Constantly terrified of a return of the Fronde
revolts of the 1650s in which the Parliament and the nobles briefly
drove Mazarin out of the country, Louis decided that the best way to
neutralize the threat was to make the nobility completely dependent
on him. He began wearing ornate, foppish clothing (the kind we’re
familiar with in period pieces today), forcing the court nobility to
imitate him which, in turn, cost them a year’s salary or more. He
also expanded the palace at Versailles to a virtual city-state unto
itself and shifted the seat of government there, relocating the
nobility from their estates to what was unquestionably the court of
Louis XIV.
In Rossellini's words, “The slightest
act of daily life contains extraordinary dramatic power.” Banal
moments and dry rituals occupy the bulk of the film. Rossellini
devotes an entire scene to Louis trying on his new clothing. The
final fifteen minutes of the movie consist almost entirely of an
elaborately served dinner which Louis eats while perched alone high
on a platform as the crowd of courtiers looks on, a ceremony that
asserts the king’s dominance over his subjects in no uncertain
terms.
Rossellini often preferred to work with
non-professional actors. Office clerk Jean-Marie Patte was cast as
the Sun King and proved to be a perfect model for the director’s
idiosyncratic production style. Just as Louis was terrified of
rebellion, Patte was terrified of the camera. He constantly looks as
if he’s trying to swallow himself whole to hide from the lens’s
gaze, and this awkwardness makes Louis’ false bravado both poignant
and plausible. He was a boy playing at being a man, and he succeeded
simply by faking his way through and relying on the trappings of the
office to carry the day. Look like a king, and you will be one.
Louis often refuses to look at the
people he is speaking to, staring off at some distant point instead.
Is he contemplating his own grandeur? Perhaps. But Patte was
struggling with his lines. Unable to memorize them, he read his
dialogue off cue cards in most scenes. Trust Rossellini to turn an
actor’s apparent weakness into one of the film’s defining
stylistic features. It’s a truly marvelous performance that derives
not from an acting class, but from the strategic placement of a body
relative to the camera, the intersection of physical and optical.
With its restrained performances,
de-dramatized narrative, and emphasis on gestures, “Power” plays
much like a Bresson film which makes it even harder to believe that
it played to such a large audience. Of course, Rossellini had one
major advantage: he didn't open the film in theaters, but rather on
French television. In 1962, the director had declared cinema to be
dead and abandoned it for TV. He was true to his word and spent the
rest of his career making historical dramas for the small screen. The
change of medium did not cause the director to abandon his vision in
the slightest. The historical films are just as much “Rossellini”
as his epoch-shifting early work like “Rome, Open City” (1945)
and “Voyage to Italy” (1954), films that quite literally changed
cinema forever.
The film is presented in its original 1.33:1 full-screen ratio. The image quality is mediocre by Criterion standards, but more than acceptable overall. I’m not sure how much of this is attributable to the film being shot for television. The colors are a bit dull and there is more damage visible than on most Criterion transfers. It’s still a solid effort.
The DVD is presented in Dolby Digital Mono. Solid, functional, no notable problems. Optional English subtitles support the French audio.
There is no commentary track included with the film, an increasingly common trend for Criterion.
Instead, we have a wonderful Visual
Essay (25 min.) by Tag Gallagher, author of “The Adventures of
Roberto Rossellini.” As he did on the Criterion release of “The
Earrings of Madame de…” Gallagher takes advantage of the DVD
format to offer an audio-visual critique that is enlightening and
entertaining. I hope Criterion will include more of these, whether by
Gallagher or other critics.
The disc also includes interviews with
the director’s son Renzo Rossellini (5 min.) who speaks about his
uncredited direction of one of the film’s climactic scenes, and a
2004 interview, conducted by Allerton Films for MK2 with
writer/artistic adviser Jean-Dominique de La Rochefoucauld and script
supervisor Michelle Podroznik (14 min.)
The slim insert booklet features an
essay by Colin MacCabe.
“The Taking of Power by Louis XIV” is history writ small, a layering of subtle (and sometimes grueling) details that accumulate a mysterious gestalt power. The final product is a masterpiece, one of Rossellini’s greatest achievements. Rossellini’s groundbreaking neo-realist films were undeniably more influential than his historical television work, but I think I like both “Power” and “Blaise Pascal” (1972) even more. “Blaise Pascal” is one of the three films included in the new Eclipse Set “Rossellini’s History Films: Renaissance and Enlightenment” which also includes “Cartesius” (1973) and “The Age of the Medici” and is thoroughly awesome.
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