The Last Duel review - Ridley Scott’s Rashomon
“I say before all of you, I spoke the truth.”
In his most structurally ambitious epic, Ridley Scott solidifies himself once again as a master of historical action, yet unfortunately The Last Duel misses when it comes to its depiction of subjective truth. The Last Duel aims to underline the hardships of Marguerite de Carrouges (Jodie Comer), a central female figure who is willing to speak up against the oppressive male infrastructure that surrounds her, but by telling her story mostly through the eyes of the men that ‘love’ her, it’s difficult not to feel her story is robbed by the inclusion of Ridley’s Scott’s epic battle scenes.
What’s surprising about The Last Duel is actually how small and intimate the drama is. Here epic wars are swapped for a triangle of deceit and sexual assault set during the French Middle Ages. During the first two of three separated chapters, the men of Marguerite’s life tell the story of her rape from their subjective point of view. Sir Jean de Carrouges (Matt Damon), her husband, represents himself almost as the victim of this crime against his wife, denoting how even when crimes are committed against women, they remain wholly the property of their husbands. Jacques Le Gris (Adam Driver) plays the man accused of rape, who sees the central crime merely as dormant love, yet in each retelling, it’s still clearly rape. Here we get to retread the same events multiple times with the intention that each repeated iteration shows us the character’s bias therein.
But by telling her story mostly through the eyes of the men that ‘love’ her, it’s difficult not to feel her story is robbed by the inclusion of Ridley’s Scott’s epic battle scenes.
Wishing to be clear on what the objective truth is, when the final chapter’s title card appears, Ridley Scott opts to linger on text ‘The Truth’ so the audience is left in no doubt where the bias ends. And herein lies the issue – if we are being told the truth ‘objectively’ from the point of view of the female central character, then it would seem fitting that the ‘subjective’ variations on this story would show us a very different ‘male’ point of view. But oddly in both subjective chapters, the variations of behavior remain largely superficial – to the point where by the final act, we already know the real villains are simply the men who oppress her.
To take the scene of the rape itself – we see the scene twice, shot in the same way, but each sequence depicts behavior slightly differently based on how the perpetrator and the victim see it. The only conceivable value in such repetition is to provide us unique insight into how each variation plays out, but again the difference is superficial and renders multiple retellings exploitative. The rapist sees the events as a Straw Dogs like sequence where the difference between pleasure and pain can be questioned at points, but yet the crime is still abundantly clear. When repeated through Marguerite’s eyes, the event leaves no question as to the pain inflicted. In both cases the pain is clear, the villain is guilty, and the changes are not significant enough to justify another re-run. It is no revelation to learn that a victim of a crime sees the act differently from the offender.
When the final act approaches, it is less shocking than it is inevitable.
Which brings us to this issue of subjectivity. The Last Duel’s central idea of needing repeated scenes to tell us what is objective and subjective is a misfire– great films do both at the same time, showing us truth as it comes and providing us subjective insight when the story requires. Here a hard line is drawn to separate truth and lies, but it is forgotten that you only need to tell the truth in order to see the lies behind it. When the final act approaches, it is less shocking than it is inevitable. It is revealed too late that this is the story of a woman trying to tell the truth. Unfortunately the unneeded Rashomon structure mutes her life until she becomes a victim. If there is a purpose to Marguerite’s life other than being a victim, it is unfortunately left to the imagination.
In a post-Weinstein Hollywood, the intention is admirable. Yet The Last Duel only sets the table for other movies to provide more significant insight into the life of such women.
Once the duel itself arrives, the results are undoubtedly thrilling. Ridley Scott’s visual prowess is on form, and it may be the greatest one-on-one sword battle ever filmed. It foregoes gentlemanly parries for bloody injuries, spit and exhaustion. It reminds us of the best of his Gladiator scenes and sharply underlines the split-second cruelty of the heavy sword, all of it scored finely by the brooding choirs and booming drums of Harry Gregson-Williams. By the time the credits rolled, I felt like limping out of the theatre.
In the background Marguerite de Carrouges sits in agony, knowing her fate is in the balance. Jodie Comer is great with the material, but her character remains two dimensional, as a victim and little else. It’s an electrifying conclusion, but it fails to distract us from how we got there.
