Marie Antoinette (Davis, 2024)

Written by Tom Augustine.

How do you solve a problem like Marie? As an historical figure, Marie Antoinette is a contradictory one, the most significant juxtaposition being her youthful innocence and the bourgeois, aristocratic excess she came to unintentionally embody through her seeming naivete to the suffering of the poor outside her castle gates. The last queen of France, importantly, was not born into this figurehead position, nor was she even French – rather she married into it at the tender age of fourteen, making her an especially tragic pawn in a struggle for the fate of the country. There is also much that is unknown about the woman and her life, with even the infamous ‘let them eat cake’ line that came to represent Antoinette in popular culture so entirely seemingly attributed without any historical evidence to show she ever said it. This ambiguity about her very character has ensured that her life overflows with artistic potential for adaptation. Her story has been adapted twice for the big screen, once in 1938 and again, more famously, in Sofia Coppola’s 2006 masterpiece Marie Antoinette. That playful, anachronistic film casts a long shadow – in the modern era most probably associate Antoinette with that film, and Kirsten Dunst’s marvellous performance. Antoinette has not diminished as a significant cultural figure in the years since, however. Indeed, the times we are in, with such a staggering divide in equality the world over, ensure that those infamous words and the legend of Antoinette are never far from mind. Last year, her beheading was shown in graphic fashion in the opening sequence of Ridley Scott’s Napoleon. At this year’s 2024 Olympic Opening Ceremony in France, the metal band Gojira depicted Antoinette’s severed head, singing.

If anyone could be relied upon to deliver a worthy re-examination of Antoinette’s life in the modern day, it would be Deborah Davis, the writer of Oscar-winning aristocratic black comedy The Favourite, touted as Greek auteur Yorgos Lanthimos’ mainstream crossover film. That film, whose strongest element was its script, won Olivia Colman a Best Actress nod for her bleakly hilarious performance as Queen Anne, and revelled in similar locales and dramatic interests as her new series, Marie Antoinette. Frothy palace antics, power imbalances and a slyly feminist outlook that roots the story in the perspective of women characters who have long been considered from a distance is the name of the game, and Marie Antoinette underlines this by arriving to us from an all-female writers room, with the explicit aim of providing a feminist angle on the life of Antoinette. The role here is taken by German actress Emilia Schüle, largely unknown to English-speaking audiences but who bears a striking resemblance to paintings of the French Queen, and who must carry the weight of the series’ expectations on her shoulders. She does so exceptionally well, an immediately beguiling presence, a mix of girlish fragility and sudden bursts of strident confidence, even rebellion. 

Deborah Davis, known for writing The Favourite, expands her particular fascination with the intricacies of the era of aristocracy with this series tackling the life of the ill-fated Marie Antoinette, the last queen of France. Antoinette’s life has been the subject of various artistic visions, but Davis’ series provides a sweeping, soapy examination that proves its worthiness, led by a captivating Emilia Schüle as the titular royal. 

In the first two episodes watched for this review, Davis and director Pete Travis flow with deceptive ease between the interiority of Antoinette and the view of her from outsiders, repeatedly drawing our attention to the contrast between the woman herself, her desires and needs, and the ever-present intention of the court to mould her into something of their liking. The unpleasant strictures required of Antoinette are apparent from the off, beginning with the Queen in the throes of a nightmare before flashing back to her first departure from her childhood home, having her teeth inspected by way of a mediaeval-seeming dental device. Throughout, contrasts are made between the superb, intricate costuming and production design, which demonstrates the delicate beauty of the French aristocracy, with the dirt, grime and pain that undergirds it. Sexuality is a key cornerstone of the story of Antoinette, with her tortuous marriage to the last King of France, Louis XVI, is the subject of constant discussion – an early scene finds her mother discussing her menstrual cycle, while the second episode is intricately concerned with the modes of seduction when Louis fails to consummate their marriage. The fear of being unable to produce an heir is palpable throughout – ‘you will have failed your duty, and more importantly, you’ll have failed me’, Antoinette’s mother throws out casually, cruelly. Throughout, Davis’ skill with dialogue, which flits seamlessly between the stately wordplay one might expect from a period drama and something more modern and accessible, is a sparkling highlight here, providing occasional youthful levity amongst the pampered misery that Antoinette faces near-constantly, with cutting moments of seriousness. 

The story of Antoinette is legend at this point, and we all know where it must end – with Revolution and death. It is in what Davis and her team choose to investigate during Antoinette’s short, sad life that is what makes Marie Antoinette worth the journey. Antoinette is helplessly torn between the intentions of forces well beyond her reach, but the series refuses to depict her simply as a victim. Antoinette’s mischievousness, her openness and her fortitude ensure that she is the subject of controversy both in the court and amongst the public of the time, but from our perspective she is a figure that is rendered compellingly, crucially human. Her story is heartbreaking, and the show is suffused with a feeling of dread, and of an era reaching its end point. It’s not necessarily subtle in the way it treats the gossipy, juvenile antics of Antoinette’s fellow young aristocrats, but as the show progresses one gets the sense of Marie Antoinette settling alongside shows like The Great and Dickinson, valuable works that re-contextualise eras of aristocracy for a modern, younger crowd. It’s a particularly tasty bonbon, one that promises further pleasures as history unfolds before us.

New episodes of Marie Antoinette premiere every Wednesday night at 8:30pm, exclusively on Rialto Channel.

CLICK HERE TO WATCH THE TRAILER