Mark Reviews Movies: COLETTE

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Review by Mark Dujsik | September 27, 2018

Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette, known primarily by her surname, was ahead of her time. That's the main takeaway of Colette, co-writer/director Wash Westmoreland's biographical movie about the author, which establishes her evolution toward a more libertine way of life.

She grew up in the country and, at the age of 20, married Henry Gauthier-Villars, another writer of sorts, who was quite free in his own lifestyle, while expecting obedience of his wife. This included the encouragement of her affairs with other women, although she was more than happy to grant him that particular wish. It's what she wanted anyway.

True freedom for Colette, played by Keira Knightley, wouldn't come until later in her life—around the point, by the way, when this biography ends. There are biographical movies that depict too much of a person's life, and there are ones that don't seem to give us enough of a person's life story. Both leave a similar impression—that we don't really get to know the movie's subject, because of the sense of the story either being rushed or missing key stages. This one definitely falls in the second category, and the ultimate impression is that Colette's life is just beginning in earnest when the movie bids her farewell.

The story itself is intriguing to a certain degree, especially in how it addresses contemporary sexuality and gender in a way that feels quite modern. There is, of course, the matter of Colette's authorship of a series of wildly successful books at the beginning of the 20th century. The quartet of novels was about a teenage girl from the country named Claudine, whose exploits in school and, as she matured, in Paris and in love caused a bit of a scandal at the time for its sexual content. The official authorship of the books belonged to Colette's husband, who ran a "factory" of writers. They would pen anything he wanted and attach his name to the pieces.

In the movie, this isn't much of an issue for Colette, until it most assuredly becomes one. The story of Colette and her husband, known primarily by his penname Willy and played by Dominic West, is a series of relatively minor and predictable betrayals that become a significant problem.

He woos and courts the younger Colette at her family's home in Saint-Sauveur, speaking quite sincerely about love and marriage. Colette believes him, because her family cannot offer a dowry to the famous writer. After they're wed, she moves into his apartment in Paris and has difficulty adjusting to the flaunting of wealth in Willy's social circle.

The first betrayal is sexual, as Colette discovers that her husband is having an affair. A constant betrayal is financial, since he spends a lot on alcohol (leading to a lot comical indigestion) and gambling.

The final one, which lasts for the entirety of their marriage, is when Willy enlists Colette to write some stories about her childhood in the country. He dismisses the novel as too "feminine" at first, but years later, when debts come due, Willy offers her a few notes to punch up the plot. The novel becomes a bestseller. When his wife feels skeptical about penning a sequel, Willy locks Colette in the office of their newly purchased country home until she finishes the follow-up.

Their relationship is portrayed strangely here. There are obvious signs of control and manipulation in Willy's behavior toward Colette (It all escalates to a final appeal for her to stay, in which he pulls out all the stops—apologizing, crying, begging, and, finally, commanding), but Westmoreland seems to have no opinion on him or his actions. One could say that approach is free of judgment, but it mostly comes across as apathetic. West's performance doesn't elicit any sympathy for the man, but it is thorough in its understanding of how Willy operates.

The strained marriage eventually leads Colette into a series of relationships with women, from a Louisiana woman named Georgie (Eleanor Tomlinson), who has married a much older munitions magnate, to Missy (Denise Gough), a noblewoman whose status provides her the freedom to dress as a man in public (History is unclear if Missy should be deemed as being transgender, and the movie doesn't fully assert a status either way). In regards to these relationships, the general perspective of the screenplay by the late Richard Glatzer, Westmoreland, and Rebecca D. Lenkiewicz is one of attitude. The important thing is that Colette does have these affairs, challenging social mores (Since we mostly spend time with characters who don't care about such things, it doesn't seem like much of a challenge) and leading her to start thinking about her own desires.

Knightley is strong here, especially in Colette's increasingly forthright confrontations with her husband. She has an impassioned monologue about the significance of the novels that sums up a lot about the character that the movie itself has evaded.

In the end, we want to know more about Colette, especially after reading the text of the coda, which summarizes the remainder of her life (with the odd exception of her most famous work). Colette, though, treats her much in the same way that the Parisian public comes to see the author's Claudine character. She's less a person and more an icon of style and attitude, who may exist in the past but seems very much of the present.

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