Ridley Scott began his feature film career in 1977 with a period drama called The Duellists, about two Napoleonic soldiers engaging in duels each time they meet over the course of sixteen years. Though it’s in an entirely different context and structure, it’s interesting that Scott has returned to that same topic forty-four years later, with a film titled fittingly The Last Duel. Though it’s maybe in this relation alone that the title is entirely appropriate, given the duel at hand, which was the last legally sanctioned one in France, is merely the end point of a story about systemic misogyny and sexual assault, speaking ones’ truth and pursuing accountability.
The film makes no attempt at all to hide its’ allegory to the #MeToo movement, to connect the circumstances of the 14th century Marguerite de Carrouges (Jodie Comer) with those of the countless women who have come forward with allegations against powerful men -as well as the obstacles in their way reinforced by an apparatus designed to oppress them. It’s not the first time Scott has used the veil of the Middle Ages to comment on a contemporary social/political phenomenon: his underrated 2005 masterpiece Kingdom of Heaven turned the Crusades into a metaphor for modern Islamophobia and the war in Iraq. Still, the subject matter of this film was daunting, the confidence it could be dealt with sensitively even more so -especially considering its’ script comes courtesy of Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, also stars of the piece, and their first collaboration in writing since Good Will Hunting. It’s a curious reunion for sure, but neither of these men I particularly trust with grasping the nuances of such severe sexual politics. Luckily, there is an additional female voice in the screenplay -that of acclaimed writer-director Nicole Holofcener, and she is perhaps the one who saves it.
The Last Duel is bolder and more honest in its’ approach to a culture of sexual assault than I anticipated, certainly for a Hollywood production of this era. Scott and Holofcener at the very least understand what they’re talking about, and are pretty stark in their messaging. The film, perhaps owing to its’ topics on truth and sexual assault, uses the same structure as Kurosawa’s Rashomon, presenting successive alternative accounts of the same period of time with occasionally intersecting episodes that differ depending on the point of view we’re witnessing it through. The chief difference though is that this film makes clear which story is considered to be the correct one: the one ignored by history.
The Last Duel is bolder and more honest in its’ approach to a culture of sexual assault than I anticipated, certainly for a Hollywood production of this era. Scott and Holofcener at the very least understand what they’re talking about, and are pretty stark in their messaging. The film, perhaps owing to its’ topics on truth and sexual assault, uses the same structure as Kurosawa’s Rashomon, presenting successive alternative accounts of the same period of time with occasionally intersecting episodes that differ depending on the point of view we’re witnessing it through. The chief difference though is that this film makes clear which story is considered to be the correct one: the one ignored by history.
In 1386, Marguerite de Carrouges, a French noblewoman, publicly alleged she was raped by squire Jacques Le Gris (here played by Adam Driver), an old friend and brother-in-arms of her husband Sir Jean de Carrouges (Damon). Carrouges responded by challenging Le Gris to a duel to the death which took place on 29th December of that year. The mens’ stories begin with their combat together in the late 1370s at English-occupied Limoges during the Caroline phase of the Hundred Years’ War; Marguerite’s begins with her marriage to Jean in 1380. Each provides distinct insight into their characters and how they perceive themselves in relation to their world. Carrouges clearly considers himself a noble, valiant knight, a brave leader in battle and one who will stand up against the wrongs committed against himself and his wife. Le Gris, well-read and cultured, has an air of superiority about him, a pious confidence in his own justness and those of his actions. And Marguerite, humbler by far, recognizes she is a pawn in a patriarchal order, yet still has conviction enough to speak out where necessary –and she is the only one with any degree of self-awareness. Its’ thrilling to note where these perceptions rub up against one another. Where Carrouges sees his marriage as one of mutual admiration and respect, Marguerite finds it loveless, dispassionate, and controlling. Where Le Gris sees attraction and romance in Marguerite’s educated exchanges, she intends them as just friendly courtesy. Carrouges’ confidence to Marguerite on a righteous confrontation with his lord (Affleck’s Count Pierre d’Alençon) we later see to have been an embarrassing spectacle in the eyes of Le Gris. And each man after a period of falling out, sees themselves as the one offering the olive branch to the other.
What these contrasts most reveal though are the ways in which systemic misogyny supports itself and informs values -and not strictly in an outdated, feudal way. In fact the film doesn’t dwell much in period-specific inequities, such as womens’ inability to own land or earn money, barring the noted fact that Marguerite is considered the property of Carrouges when it comes to laws around sexual assault. But women being trapped in unfulfilling relationships where sex is coercion rather than pleasure, being policed on what they wear and condescended to -these are things that are still relevant. And everything concerning the assault, from Le Gris’ veiled threats in its’ aftermath, to his self-serving justifications, the extremely intimate interrogation of Marguerite, replete with conjecture and unfounded presumption, to the men at play being considered (and considering themselves) the true victims here -it’s all essentially how these situations commonly play out today. The point is less to show how little things have changed as much as how changes notwithstanding, we’re still beholden to many of the same structures and values and social mindsets. And the movie demonstrates so in ways both blunt and subtle.
Jodie Comer is fantastic, carrying much of the films’ weight even before it turns its’ attentions primarily to her. It’s a challenging role, and very rough –I should issue a warning that Marguerite’s assault plays out in the film from two vantage points, and it’s uncomfortable, though I daresay conscientious and non-exploitative. But Comer rises to the challenge and as someone who missed Killing Eve, it gives me an idea of why she rocketed up so fast as a major star. Damon, in spite of his wonky European cadence, gives one of his better recent performances too. And for someone who has lately a reputation for obtuseness when it comes to topics of social issues and the marginalized, he seems to have a firm understanding of the nuances of his characters’ sexism and abuse. Driver is great, as is now customary for one of the most interesting actors working today. He fits the period well too, which cannot be said of Affleck, who is the most out of place, with his hilarious bleach-blonde hair (though in fairness most of the hairstyles are silly) and meagre accent. But he is funny, and is enjoying himself more than in any movie he’s done in the last decade. The supporting cast is filled out well by Marton Csokas, Nathaniel Parker, Alex Lawther as Charles VI, Adam Nagaitis, and Željko Ivanek, though its’ Harriet Walter as Carrouges’ cold mother who makes the deepest impression.
The Last Duel on top of its’ subject matter, is a bleak and brutal image of medieval Europe –one which Scott is quite fond of. The battles we see Carrouges engage in are hideously violent no matter the romanticism of his attitude towards them –this too would have made a nice perspective contrast. The titular duel doesn’t disappoint in this regard either, shot with exceptional clarity in spite of its’ chaos. Dariusz Wolski’s cinematography captures the bitter, cold, dark environment, radiant only in the domains of male power and privilege. The movies’ production values are remarkable too, the details in every aspect of the medieval world sharp and enticing. And it’s done on a scale nigh impossible in the current Hollywood climate.
Yes, Ridley Scott made a big-budget historical drama for adults in 2021 and is paying the price in the films’ very dismal box office returns –it’s likely to be one of the biggest flops of the year. But The Last Duel is worthwhile for that uncommonness, and how at almost every turn it manages to surprise and surpass expectations. Maybe it’s not the most comprehensive conversation a movie could have on justice for sexual assault, and the culture and politics surrounding it at this moment in time, but it is by a stretch the best yet put forward by any movie of this scope.
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