Mark Reviews Movies: LOST ILLUSIONS

Lost Illusions, Music Box Films

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Review by Mark Dujsik | June 9, 2022

A sweep of history and politics carries Lost Illusions through a pretty formulaic tale of one man's rise to prominence and fall—not from grace, to be sure. That sense of familiarity is to be expected, of course. This story, adapted by co-writer/director Xavier Giannoli and co-screenwriter Jacques Fieschi, comes from Honoré de Balzac novel of the same name, and even without any knowledge of the particular book, the basic thrust of the tale possesses a certain air of truth, even if the film's biographical leanings are supporting an entirely fictional character.

Balzac's novel is large—more than 700 pages, consisting of three parts, published in serial form over the course of six years, resulting in a sequel to continue the tale of its protagonist. Giannoli and Fieschi have condensed it, obviously, even though the 150-minute run time certainly isn't succinct. They've also narrowed its focus to deal with the world of journalism in Paris during the time of the Bourbon Restoration.

It's a time, our nearly constant narrator informs us, when people wanted to forget the Revolution, the Reign of Terror, and Napoleon's empire—especially the country's military defeats. A new monarchy means a return to old traditions, but the winds of change have swept across France, all of Europe, and in parts beyond. Liberalism is here to stay, it seems, so the government must account for that—and, possibly, dissuade any return to violent revolution. Free markets and capitalism are giving people and countries new economic opportunities, as well as leading to some less-desirable consequences for individuals of certain classes.

Right in the middle of these new ways is a new breed of journalism—thriving on controversy, dependent upon advertising, trying to gain new readers, creating a cynical circle of action and reaction that means starting battles with public figures, so that the news of how people respond to the news becomes an entirely different cycle of news. It feels quite modern, with our narrator even dropping the phrase "false news" about a period almost two centuries before a similar term would become prominent. There's a real, almost depressing irony to one moment, as paper stock is burnt in an attempt to keep some of the smaller rags in check, in which the narrator points out that no harm, as has been done thus far, can be done without paper and ink—if only he knew.

Amidst all of this intrigue is the story of Lucien (Benjamin Voisin), an aspiring poet from provincial Angoulême who works at a local printing shop. He's an orphan—the son of a pharmacist father and a mother from an aristocratic family. While the young man's official surname is that of his father, Lucien has started adopting his mother's to attract attention, legitimacy, and respect—especially from the married Louise de Bargeton (Cécile de France), his artistic patron and lover.

Lucien's time in and experiences from the country are vital, as he gains some fame and infamy—as well as a motive to achieve a certain level of monetary success and, hopefully, an official recognition of his mother's noble name. Most of the plot, though, revolves around his attempts, after being rejected by Louise at the behest of her aristocratic cousin the Marquise d'Espard (Jeanne Balibar), to simply scrape by a living—and then do much, much more—in Paris. He meets Etienne Lousteau (Vincent Lacoste), an editor and writer working for one of the many liberal (as opposed to royalist) newspapers in the city.

During a whirlwind day and night out to the streets and brothels and theaters of Paris, Lucien proves himself a prompt, pointed writer of both purple and poisoned prose. He gets a job, a new girlfriend in the person of actress Coralie (Salomé Dewaels), and a reputation as particularly cunning and cruel critic of members of high society and whichever publisher or theater doesn't pay for good coverage—or if the competition pays to have their rivals demolished in print.

Meanwhile, whatever ambitions of creating art he might have had in his youth—of a few months prior—are more or less forgotten in favor of financial gain and social climbing. Lucien engages in a rivalry/friendship with Nathan (Xavier Dolan), a writer whose talents exceed his own, and in between the informative and ironic insights, our narrator, whose identity is kept anonymous until the very end, hints at an inevitability tragic end for our protagonist.

Those insights, both from the running commentary and Giannoli's re-creation of Bourbon-era Paris, are the foundation here, because of and despite how familiar the small, tabloid-like newspaper business of that age resembles the modern state of advertising-driven journalism of today. The film packs in a lot of information about the period, the industry, and the political/economic forces at work within contemporary society, but Giannoli's brisk storytelling ensures that none of it feels overwhelming.

The framing of this account and critique of journalism within Lucien's tale of high ambition and low ethics helps, as well. There's some pleasure in the way Giannoli and Fieschi revel in the gossip and verbal sparring between these figures with such vain, inflated personalities, but it doesn't lessen the way those seemingly innocent or professional quarrels transform into something far more sinister as Lucien's goals become too large to go unnoticed and un-resented by the people he has made a career of attacking.

Lost Illusions is a smart and perceptive depiction of a specific realm within a particular part of history. In doing so, the film touches upon larger truths, as well as the lies that distract from them.

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