Que penser du Marie Antoinette de Sofia Coppola?

Le film a suscité un intérêt pour Marie-Antoinette. Voici une vidéo inspirée par Sofia Coppola.
Belle femme éprouve une douce journée comme Marie Antoinette-Kirsten Dunst.
Excellente idée Quelle femme ne voudrait pas être au moins un jour comme une reine?
Marie Antoinette n'a pas eu à jouer la reine. Marie-Antoinette était reine.
Marie Antoinette a essayé d'être fermière à Hameau.





N'est-ce pas gentil? Elle est trop belle.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_eDTdv6SuU

D'accord avec vous sur ce point : il est essentiel que Marie-Antoinette ne tombe jamais dans l'oubli.

Lucrezia P a écrit:

D'accord avec vous sur ce point : il est essentiel que Marie-Antoinette ne tombe jamais dans l'oubli.

Oui Nous le voulons tous. Si la reine veut écrire et parler, tourner des films. Si sa mode est imitée. Ce ne sera pas oublié.
C'est la même chose qu'avec les célébrités d'aujourd'hui.
Sofia Coppola crée un intérêt pour la reine.

Un peu en écho à l'article partagé par Madame Antoinette:
https://maria-antonia.forumactif.com/t5067p175-que-penser-du-marie-antoinette-de-sofia-coppola

Attention ! Je dis pas que c'est mon avis.

Que reste-t-il de Sofia Coppola ?

L'avantage des rétrospectives, c'est qu'elles incitent à la remise en question. S'agissant de Sofia Coppola, petite chérie du cinéma indépendant couronnée de gloire dès "Virgin Suicides", son premier long-métrage sorti il y a près de vingt ans, l'expérience s'avère d'autant plus pertinente que la réalisatrice essuya l'an dernier avec "les Proies" le plus grand flop de sa carrière. Pas un bide spectaculaire, bien clivant, bien saignant, non, une sortie de piste presque anonyme, limite feutrée, qui suppose qu'avec les années, sa légende s'est peu à peu dégonflée. Sofia Coppola serait-elle devenue ringarde au moment précis où le cinéma américain, en plein traumatisme Harvey Weinstein, se cherche des totems féminins ? Ou n'a-t-elle pas toujours été un peu surestimée ?

L'ultramodernité dépassée ?
Histoire d'un soldat yankee vampirisé par les jeunes filles d'un pensionnat sudiste durant la guerre de Sécession, "les Proies" n'échappe guère à cette règle immuable qui traverse chacun de ses récits : Sofia Coppola raconte toujours l'histoire d'un biotope au bord de l'explosion, d'un moment qui se meurt. "Virgin Suicides" ? La mort de cinq adolescentes dans une banlieue pavillonnaire des années 1970, souvenir raconté par l'un de leurs soupirants. "Marie Antoinette" ? La jeunesse dorée de la reine avant qu'elle ne soit balayée par les premiers auspices de la Révolution. "Somewhere" ? Le ras-le-bol d'un acteur à la mode quant à son quotidien oisif et glamour. "The Bling Ring" ? Les derniers jours d'anonymat (et d'amitié) d'une bande de jeunes cambrioleurs obsédés par la célébrité.

"Lost in Translation" ? Un moment de transit durant lequel éclot une intense bluette entre une jeune épouse délaissée et un vieil acteur venu cachetonner à Tokyo. Derrière cette petite mort, le film, qu'on craignait de revoir par peur d'altérer le bon souvenir qu'il nous laissa quinze ans plus tôt (il reste son meilleur à nos yeux), en raconte une autre, presque malgré lui : celle d'une ère technologique dont la cinéaste capture les ultimes soubresauts. Bob (Bill Murray) passe ainsi sa semaine à échanger des fax avec sa femme, pendant que Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) ne prend pas la moindre photo lors de ses visites pittoresques. Sans doute parce que la mise en scène enchâsse à cette hygiène de la communication et du voyage un nouvel art de vivre, qui préfigure les réflexes des utilisateurs d'Instagram. Nul besoin pour Scarlett Johansson de prendre des selfies, le film tout entier s'en charge à sa place. "Lost in Translation" (comme "Virgin Suicides" ou le beau "Somewhere") peut se voir comme une addition de moments gracieux, langoureux et subrepticement burlesques, un feuilleté d'instants mignons, jolis, en décalage contrôlé conforme aux futurs strips du réseau social : une cérémonie exotique dans un temple qui retient l'œil de Charlotte, des plats disposés autour d'un réchaud dans un restaurant, la belle piscine de l'hôtel, un baiser volé, une observation amusante…

"The Bling Ring", lui, marque une rupture. Si Sofia Coppola filme le début d'une époque inféodée à la télé-réalité, à l'hystérie et au narcissisme médiatique, son approche est, au mieux, contemporaine, au pire, historique. De l'icône racornie Paris Hilton aux premiers selfies mal ajustés qu'exécutent les membres du Bling Ring, chaque motif, chaque geste apparaît presque vintage. Comme si l'ultramodernité qu'elle inventa il y a quinze ans l'avait rattrapée aujourd'hui.

La tentation du huis clos toxique
L'autre évidence obsessionnelle des films de Sofia Coppola, c'est sa manie de ne filmer que des tribus en vase clos : pensionnat de jeunes filles ("les Proies"), ados aisés ("The Bling Ring"), reines et courtisanes ("Marie Antoinette"), cercle fermé du show-biz ("Lost in Translation" et "Somewhere").

A la rigueur, on pourrait croire que seul "A Very Murray Christmas", show de Noël plutôt bien fichu tourné en 2015 pour Netflix, échappe de peu aux règles asphyxiantes d'un monde sous cloche. Coincé dans un hôtel un soir de tempête, le personnage de Bill Murray est contraint de faire participer à son émission clients et employés de l'établissement. Mais en confiant à ses copains ces rôles de vrais-faux outsiders (Jason Schwartzman, les membres du groupe Phoenix, dont son mari), le film conserve in fine ses réflexes claniques et ses frontières de carré VIP.

Fille de (Francis Ford), femme de (Spike Jonze, puis Thomas Mars), amie d'enfance de Zoe Cassavetes (la fille de John), Sofia Coppola n'est pas dupe, et ne fait pas semblant non plus. Dans ses films, deux images récurrentes illustrent bien l'ambivalence de la vie en microcosme. Il y a toujours un fou rire naissant déclenché par le spectacle d'un personnage ridicule ; et d'innombrables plans en voiture, où les héros rêvassent, les yeux absorbés par l'extérieur, séparés du réel par une vitre protectrice. Dans l'un ou l'autre cas, on s'y repaît d'une complicité en béton armé, comme on éprouve très vite le besoin d'aller respirer un air moins vicié, de regarder ailleurs.


Sofia Coppola, avec Harris Savides, sur le tournage de "Somewhere" en 2010
(American Zoetrope/The Kobal Collection/Biciocchi, Franco)

Plus que le vide, l'ennui, les pères absents ou les mères castratrices, autres motifs chéris, la tentation du huis clos toxique reste celui qui fragilise le plus le cinéma de Sofia Coppola. L'échec des "Proies", geste alternatif puisque remake du film d'un autre (celui, génial, de Don Siegel), en est la preuve. Au lieu de se tourner vers un autre horizon (le film originel jouait d'une moiteur sexuelle salace, loin, très loin des amours platoniques coppolesques), la cinéaste opte au contraire pour le repli sur soi, ramenant le sujet à une version rabougrie de son surmoi d'auteur. Bonne nouvelle : "les Proies" n'est pas programmé par TCM et au moins trois films sur cinq valent toujours la peine d'être revus : "Virgin Suicides", "Lost in Translation" et "Somewhere".
Guillaume Loison
https://www.nouvelobs.com/

• JOURNÉE SPÉCIALE - Samedi 7 avril sur TCM Cinéma
  
  15.30 Virgin Suicides (1999) de Sofia Coppola, avec James Woods, Kathleen Turner, Kirsten Dunst, Josh Hartnett & Hanna Hall  
  
  17.10 Marie-Antoinette (2006) de Sofia Coppola, avec Kirsten Dunst, Jason Schwartzman, Asia Argento, Rip Torn & Molly Shannon
  
  19.15 The Bling Ring (2013) de Sofia Coppola, avec Emma Watson, Katie Chang, Israel Broussard, Claire Julien & Leslie Mann
  
  20.45 Lost In Translation (2003) de Sofia Coppola, avec Scarlett Johansson, Bill Murray, Giovanni Ribisi
  
  22.30 Somewhere (2010) de Sofia Coppola, avec Stephen Dorff, Elle Fanning & Chris Pontius
  
  
                          TOUS LES SAMEDIS DÈS 20h45
  
  SAMEDI 14 AVRIL
  20.45 Marie-Antoinette
  22.50 The Virgin Suicides
  
  SAMEDI 21 AVRIL
  20.45 The Bling Ring
  22.15 Lost In Translation
  
  SAMEDI 28 AVRIL
  20.45 Somewhere
  22.25 Marie-Antoinette
  
  

C'est vrai que Sofia on a beau être méga fan à la fin ça lasse.

Close-Up on Sofia Coppola’s "Marie Antoinette" (dites-le en rose )



In 2006, Juicy Couture, the clothing brand synonymous with velour tracksuits, released their first fragrance. Instantly beloved by teen girls, available at Walmart, Juicy Couture’s eponymous fragrance smells like tropical punch with base notes of dessert tray (caramel, crème brûlée, and vanilla)—synthetic aromas that choked high school hallways for at least half a decade hence. The print campaign for the fragrance features pastel hues, ribbons, puppies, and a rebellious rococo wardrobe. In it, a model wears a towering, cotton candy wig—as if she not only smells but is also slowly becoming edible.

That same year, Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette premiered at the Cannes Film Festival. Similarities between this historic-ish film and the Juicy Couture ad campaign are striking. Depending on who you talk to, Marie Antoinette is as empty as an empty bottle of perfume, or as powerful as a multi-million-dollar ad campaign. What no one argues over: the target audience. Sofia Coppola makes films for young women, serves them up like cake and laces the icing with dissent. Marie Antoinette may look like it’s selling something, but it’s pushing revolution.  

Marie Antoinette (Kirsten Dunst) is 14 when we meet her, preparing to move from her native Austria to Versailles, to marry the French Dauphin, played by Jason Schwartzman who, as always, looks simultaneously adolescent and middle-aged. The first and most cruel affront she receives from the French people is the confiscation if her pet pug, followed by the indignity of being strip searched in the woods—all in preparation to be an almost-queen.

When Marie Antoinette arrives at Versailles and is not immediately a success, it is because she is not immediately pregnant. Her prince is clueless, also childish—and the couple remains childless for several years. In the meantime, Marie Antoinette develops hobbies outside of wifehood: gambling, shopping, eating cake. Here she becomes the Marie Antoinette of caricature, frivolous, bored, extravagant. Everything that makes her memory fodder for perfume ads 250 years in the future.

This, more than French history, is what interests Coppola, the process by which a woman becomes a myth. On some level, this process is the same as maturation. Often called a chronicler of young womanhood, it’s more accurate to say Coppola is a chronicler of the myths of young womanhood.  

Because so many young girls are told, by children’s books or pop songs or parents with poor taste in pet names, that they are princesses, Marie Antoinette is not a historical film but an allegorical one. The political clout of a princess is low and functions almost wholly in backchannels and imperceptible tactics, the more invisible, the better. Marie Antoinette finds her power at court is gained and restrained almost simultaneously, a perfect allegory for the way young womanhood is at once exalted and preyed upon.  
Coppola has always been preoccupied by the intersection between personhood and adulation: in The Virgin Suicides, we hear of the Lisbon sisters through the voices of boys who idolized them. Lost in Translation is about two people in love with, and in desperate need of, the idea of each other.

In Somewhere, a failed father figure is also a movie star and, with decreasing intensity, the object of his daughter’s admiration. Marie Antoinette may be based on an historical figure, but it’s a film more concerned with the eternal problem of becoming a woman in the public sphere; the young queen navigates a perplexing world in which rules are not known until they are broken, as when she claps at the opera and finds its not customary. Familiar terrain for anyone making their initial forays in to the ever-fraught realm of womanhood, or, more loosely, adulthood.

In many ways, Marie Antoinette was the urtext of the millennial aesthetic, the pink dream worlds of Petra Collins and Glossier. The imagery that took hold of the popular consciousness around the film’s release was of candy-colored, almost apocalyptic decadence. My favourite rumor about Marie Antoinette is that the color scheme was inspired by Ladurée, the Parisian purveyor of macaroons. Ladurée is name checked on Gossip Girl and exactly the type of place a person would go if they were 16 and visiting Paris for the first time. Ladurée is chic in the way Juicy Couture is couture. That Coppola dressed her film in the colors of self-conscious luxury is deft, and also rebellious. Coppola is wise enough to fashion to know that macaroons and ribbons are gauche, but original enough to embrace them anyway. A tendency to prioritize aesthetics is one of the most enduring criticisms of Coppola’s work, something she leans in to with Marie Antoinette.

Sofia Coppola has famously said, “I think you can be substantial and interested in frivolity.” Having to state something so obvious is not only annoying, but the crux of Coppola’s importance to a certain group of (mostly) girls. Specifically, those reaching womanhood and finding that, to be taken seriously, compromise is key—achieving an ineffable balance between femininity and renouncing it. Marie Antoinette proposes an alternative, hedonistic and frivolous as its anti-heroine. The film is a toothache. The destructive, even defiant, potential of frivolity is the political message of a film said to contain none. Marie Antoinette rebels against her station by exaggerating the trappings of it—a tactic that, while probably unconscious, is particularly striking to viewers growing up in an era of Rookie magazine and the new Teen Vogue, publications that champion an uncompromised mixture of frivolity and substance.  

Versailles was the ultimate gilded cage and Coppola’s sympathies lie with her title character, a girl burdened with luxurious but incredibly limited options. Marie Antoinette bedecked herself in the symbols of her own entrapment—was reviled and, eventually, killed for it. In Coppola’s hands, the chain of events is doomed and sadly relevant. The catch-22 of being a princess or a girl is the same: one is expected to defer and, later, scorned for being indifferent. In such circumstances, who wouldn’t buy shoes and get their hair done, pretend to be a peasant, gamble? Here, existence is as precarious as a champagne tower.

The film’s final shot is of a trashed bedroom, chandelier on the ground. It looks the aftermath of an amazing party, we know it was a riot.
https://mubi.com/notebook/posts/eat-the-rich-close-up-on-sofia-coppola-s-marie-antoinette

Pour changer des traditionnels "j'aime" ou "j'aime pas", une analyse objective

LE COMMENTAIRE
Céline Dion, l’apôtre de l’inertie, a déclaré qu’on ne change pas. D’après elle, on ne fait que mettre les costumes d’autres sur soi. Apparemment, même la charge d’une robe de Reine de France n’a pas suffit à éclipser l’espièglerie de Marie-Antoinette. Céline Dion a ajouté qu’on n’oublie jamais. C’est sûr, le peuple n’oublie pas. Il coupe les têtes.

LE PITCH
Marie-Antoinette (Kirsten Dunst) débarque en France.

L’HISTOIRE
La jeune Marie-Antoinette apprend qu’elle doit se marier à Louis Auguste (Jason Schwartzman) pour préserver la santé de l’alliance franco-autrichienne. À son arrivée à la frontière on lui demande de se séparer de tout : sa suite, sa robe et son petit chien.

À son arrivée à Versailles, tout le monde la dévisage. L’ambassadeur Mercy (Steve Coogan) tente de la familiariser avec les codes.

This is ridiculous.

This, Madame, is Versailles!

Le dauphin n’est visiblement pas très dégourdi. Le mariage n’est pas encore consommé. La Cour murmure. L’Autriche tremble. Marie-Antoinette ignore régulièrement la Comtesse du Barry (Asia Argento), ce qui ne fait pas ses affaires. La pression monte. La mère de Marie-Antoinette lui écrit régulièrement.


I’m extremely concerned with your situation.

Marie-Antoinette essaie de garder son enthousiasme mais son originalité et sa spontanéité sont moyennement appréciées. Les enjeux qui minent la France et l’Autriche ont du mal à la passionner. Et le mariage patauge toujours. Louis XV (Rip Torn) demande aux docteurs de s’en mêler pour stimuler le jeune homme. Elle a besoin d’offrir un héritier pour sécuriser sa position. Les nuits se succèdent, rien n’y fait. Louis-Auguste tente des sorties timides puis se ravise à chaque fois. Les rumeurs vont bon train : Marie Antoinette serait stérile, peut-être frigide. Le Roi préférerait les hommes.

Marie-Antoinette ne veut plus se battre. Elle fait le choix de l’insouciance, sous l’influence de la Duchesse de Polignac (Rose Byrne). Elle joue, boit, s’orne de bijoux et se gave de gateaux. Elle sort à Paris en douce pour aller faire la fête. Elle y rencontre le Comte Fersen (Jamie Dornan).

Le Roi contracte la petite vérole. Les choses vont s’accélérer. Louis devient XVI.

Marie-Antoinette dépense sans compter. Elle papillonne et continue de faire la fête jusqu’au petit matin. Ces soirées ne suffisent pas à atténuer son désespoir. Tandis que Louis se fait retourner la tête par ses conseillers, parmi lesquels le Comte de Vergennes (Guillaume Gallienne), sans se rendre compte que les impôts étouffent son peuple.

Après une discussion diplomatique avec le frère de Marie-Antoinette (Danny Huston), Louis se met au travail et permet à Marie-Antoinette de lui donner une petite Marie-Thérèse.

La Reine commence à passer son temps au Petit Trianon avec ses prétendants. Raumont (Tom Hardy) s’inquiète néanmoins de l’intérêt que Marie-Antoinette prononce à l’égard de Fersen. Une Reine ne rend pas service à son Roi en le trompant, ni à son pays.

Les caisses sont vides. Le peuple manque de pain. La caricature se moque du couple royal. Les choses vont s’accélérer de nouveau. Marie-Antoinette a beau donner un dauphin à la France, la colère gronde.

Marie-Antoinette est isolée. La Cour ne la suit plus dans ses applaudissements. Il est déjà trop tard. La sécurité du couple n’est plus assurée. Le Roi refuse de fuir. La Reine reste à ses côtés. Le peuple ne leur épargnera pas leur dilettantisme. Adieu Versailles.

I’m saying goodbye.

Direction la Conciergerie.


L’EXPLICATION
Marie-Antoinette, c’est ne pas réussir à se mettre au niveau.

Dans Wall-Street, Bud Fox se regarde dans la glace avant de partir à l’abordage. Il sait qu’il doit se faire violence pour convaincre Gordon Gekko de travailler avec lui. Il met de l’intensité en se rappelant l’enjeu. La vie est faite de quelques moments – à ne pas rater évidemment. C’est quasiment une question de vie ou de mort. Cela le motive suffisamment pour performer. Ces moments, qu’ils se provoquent ou qu’ils s’imposent à nous, il ne faut effectivement pas les rater. Marie-Antoinette (et Louis XVI) vont se planter dans les grandes largeurs.

La tâche qui incombe à Marie-Antoinette est très lourde, il faut le souligner. Son pays tout entier dépend de la réussite de son mariage arrangé avec Louis Auguste. À l’époque, on ne s’offusque pas trop de ces pratiques car on se marie quand même toujours entre gens de bonne famille. Elle hérite néanmoins d’un cas tant Louis Auguste n’est pas entreprenant. Ce n’est pas un mauvais bougre comme King Joffrey. Louis Auguste est simplement un souverain ‘normal’ et ça n’est pas assez. Son rôle est de montrer un peu de fermeté et d’assurance. Un Roi ça ne bégaye (cf The King’s Speech), ça ordonne (cf Emmanuel Macron). Lui manque cruellement de caractère, ce qui se traduit par son impuissance. Marie-Antoinette se sent seule. Elle doit presque tout faire pour deux. Le poids sur ses frêles épaules est donc énorme – déjà que s’imposer à Paris n’est pas facile.

Everything depends on the wife.

Ce couple n’a rien demandé, c’est vrai. Ils sont une erreur de casting, divin quand même. Auraient-ils préféré naître du côté du Tiers-État? Ces deux-là ne sont tout simplement pas prêts. Lorsque Marie-Antoinette quitte son pays, elle n’est encore qu’une enfant qui a besoin de couper le cordon. On dirait Cécile de Volange (cf Les Liaisons Dangereuses). À l’échelle de Paris, on dirait une provinciale. Elle n’a pas l’étoffe. Et Louis tremble au moment de recevoir sa couronne.

Dear God guide us and protect us, we’re too young to reign.

Qu’ils ne soient pas prêts n’est pas le problème. On peut se préparer une vie entière et ne pas être prêt au bon moment – sauf ceux qui sont nés comme ça. Ce n’est pas le problème puisque de toute façon, ils n’ont pas le choix. Ils ont l’obligation de délivrer. Le véritable problème c’est qu’ils n’arrivent pas à élever leur niveau pour être à la hauteur de la tâche. Lorsqu’ils sont confrontés à la difficulté, ils ne se transcendent pas. Ils ne savent pas se faire mal. Louis Auguste n’arrive pas à trancher comme il devrait le faire, quitte à déplaire à certains. Marie-Antoinette quant à elle enchaîne les erreurs. Son analyse de la situation est mauvaise. Elle ne parvient pas à exciter la loque qui partage son lit. Elle le trompe ouvertement. Elle se détourne de ses devoirs en se fourvoyant dans des orgies plutôt que de s’occuper des affaires diplomatiques du pays. Elle dépense l’argent qu’elle n’a pas (cf Madame Bovary), en méprisant le peuple. Elle ne voit pas la menace arriver. Pourtant le peuple, on ne peut le mépriser qu’un temps. Marie-Antoinette une adolescente négligente, pas une Reine. On ne peut pas profiter des privilèges de droits divins sans assumer les responsabilités qui vont avec. Donc elle paie de sa vie.

Marie-Antoinette aura au moins la dignité d’assumer les conséquences de ses erreurs.


Bien vu !
Ca vient d'ici : https://explicationdefilm.com/2018/06/09/marie-antoinette/

analyse intéressante

Celle-ci elle est inspirée !!!!



Elle s'appelle Eastern State Penitentiary's Marie Antoinette
et c'est aux States pour Bastille Day.

Laid, insultant

pepe12547 a écrit:

Laid, insultant

Certes... mais clairement dérivé du film de Sofia Coppola !

Du rose chimique, du champagne... La vision que la cinéaste a imposée salira encore Marie Antoinette pendant quelques générations, hélas...

pimprenelle a écrit:

pepe12547 a écrit:

Laid, insultant

Certes... mais clairement dérivé du film de Sofia Coppola !

Du rose chimique, du champagne... La vision que la cinéaste a imposée salira encore Marie Antoinette pendant quelques générations, hélas...

Chère Pimprenelle, oui, malheureusement tu as raison, Il est très nécessaire de faire un nouveau film.
Le nouveau document français est déjà très bon.
Nous devons attendre un nouveau film sur Maria Antoinette.

Entièrement d'accord avec vous.

Le documentaire de Sylvie Faiveley est intéressant, c'est vrai. Mais ce n'est pas un film à proprement parler, c'est plutôt un documentaire... et, là, il y a trop d'informations douteuses qui décrédibilisent l'ensemble, malheureusement.

Nous en avons discuté ici :
https://maria-antonia.forumactif.com/t22911p50-en-exclusivite-le-versailles-secret-de-marie-antoinette-docu-arte

Critique genrée

Why Marie Antoinette Is Really Mean Girls, Versailles Edition

According to a recent study by the USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative, film criticism remains a field overwhelmingly dominated by (surprise, surprise) white men. Refinery29’s Writing Critics’ Wrongs is an attempt to rectify that oversight. Over the course of this project, our female movie critic will be taking another look at movies that have had a major cultural impact, from rom-coms to Oscar-winners, to Oscar-winning rom-coms. For too long, women have been excluded from the conversation about the movies we love, or hate, or somewhere in between. It's time for a rewrite.

When Marie Antoinette, director Sofia Coppola’s much-anticipated follow-up to Lost In Translation, premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 2006, it was booed — literally, and in reviews. Mick LaSalle of the San Francisco Chronicle called out the “handsome style piece” for lacking “wit or real significance.” Stephen Witty of the Newark Star-Ledger dismissed it as “dazed and confused,” noting that “it feels like a teenager's diary, read aloud over some awesome mixtape.” Brian Holcomb of CinemaBlend compared the story to that of “Paris Hilton if she were to be married off to an impotent French Prince instead of dating meatheads armed with camcorders.”

The reviews aren’t evenly split by gender. Some men hated Marie Antoinette, but some loved it. Roger Ebert, for example, praised the film’s “fragile magic” and “romantic and tragic poignancy.” The same goes for women. Lisa Schwarzbaum at Entertainment Weekly called it the “work of a mature filmmaker who has identified and developed a new cinematic vocabulary to describe a new breed of post-post post feminist woman,” while Joanne Kaufman of the Wall Street Journal wrote that it was “ultimately as substantial as a bonbon.”

Still, the overall criticism directed at the film seems to be focused on the idea that it lacks substance, a barb so often used to dismiss teenage girls. Which is ironic, given that this is precisely what the film is about.

That Marie Antoinette has become a cult classic for teenage girls is no surprise. The film arguably created millennial pink, launched a nationwide, still-going-strong macaron trend, and became the inspiration for countless Pinterest party mood boards. It’s a film about a stylish historical figure that doesn’t feel like one — a relatable fantasy of wealth and privilege. Marie Antoinette isn’t a biopic, concerned with dry historical facts, speeches or big events. It’s a highly personal film, which takes us into the very limited universe of a very young woman forced to play a very public role, gorgeously laying forth the trappings of luxury for the audience to revel in, until we, like the doomed French queen, realize that it’s nothing more than a gilded cage.

But most of all, it’s a movie about being a teenage girl.

Marie Antoinette takes on the (low) expectations we have of young women, and the pressure to conform to standards they’ll eventually be condemned for. Think of Versailles as a high school. Marie Antoinette (Coppola muse Kirsten Dunst) is the new girl in town, the shy but pretty blonde who has grown up abroad (in Austria).

She’s sent by her mother, the domineering Empress Maria Theresa (Marianne Faithfull — herself a former major It Girl), to seal an alliance between the Holy Roman Empire and France by marriage. Her intended, Louis-August (Jason Schwartzman), current dauphin of France and future King Louis XVI, is the 18th century equivalent of a shy A/V nerd, and completely incapable of standing up for his new bride in a court of gossips and mean girls.

Speaking of Mean Girls — Tina Fey’s seminal high school comedy precedes Marie Antoinette by two years, and although I would bet a lot of money that Coppola wouldn’t cite Fey or the Mark Water-directed film as an influence, there are echoes of its themes throughout. Just think of the way King Louis XV’s (Rip Torn) daughters, Victoire (Molly Shannon) and Sophie (Shirley Henderson) treat Marie Antoinette, smiling and inviting her to tea while calling her a “German spy” behind her back. And has there ever been anything so Regina George as when Marie Antoinette refuses to acknowledge the King’s mistress, Madame du Barry (Asia Argento), knowing well full well that royal etiquette dictates she cannot speak to her unless spoken to first?

Being a teenage girl is a lonely pursuit, and Coppola masterfully weaves quiet scenes of despair (Marie Antoinette sobbing after her sister-in-law gives birth to a boy, while she and her husband have yet to have sex, despite having been married for months) with montages of wild abandon and spending, candy-colored Manolo Blahniks and mountains of Laduree macarons. (This scene gives a whole new meaning to “On Wednesdays we wear pink.”) Still, even in the throes of lavish partying, there’s a sense of emptiness, of a vapid existence that’s slowly losing its sheen. Marie Antoinette, at first bewildered by the rules and conventions of the French court, soon becomes its master, leading fashion, gossip and bon gout — while still claiming to care about none of it. Performance, after all, is a key component of popularity.

Kirsten Dunst plays this duality beautifully. You get the sense that her Marie Antoinette actually could be down-to-earth, if society had ever required her to land there. But as the queen, she’s expected to shine — be better, prettier, more stylish, more vivacious — until she’s vilified for it. When she retreats to the Petit Trianon, her small palace on the outskirts of Versailles, it’s to a very fake version of pastoral life, complete with a picturesque village and gauzy peasant dresses made of a linen that would probably cost them a lifetime of salaries. It’s the equivalent of today’s farmhouse chic — sanitized and quaint, without any of the petty bothers of actually running a farm. And yet it’s still a far cry from what Marie Antoinette is best remembered for: reportedly dismissing stories of the starving French populace with a pithy “Let them eat cake.” (A claim she dismisses as preposterous in the film. “I would never say that!”)

Coppola’s merging of past and present is a device used throughout the film, from the stray pair of pink Converse concealed among a row of heeled period shoes, to the heavily 1980s influenced soundtrack that pairs The Cure's "Plainsong" with King Louis XVI's 1774 coronation. Royalty, she seems to say, is a vibe. It’s a lifestyle, not a title — be it 18th century France or 1987 Los Angeles. You may not have access to Versailles, but you know exactly what it’s like to be there.

Her casting choices reflect this ethos: while a traditional period film would seek to cast based on lookalikes or impersonations, Coppola isn’t interested in that. Jason Schwartzman’s Louis August isn’t so much a historically accurate representation based on what we know about Louis XVI as he is a stand-in for highly awkward yet privileged young men thrust in situations out of their control. Louis was born to play a role he doesn’t want or even know how to play. And though it might be seen as nepotism (Schwartzman is Coppola’s cousin), Schwartzman occupies the part with a sad clown grace that eventually leads to quiet resolve.

In fact, the relationship between Louis and Marie Antoinette is one of the most interesting in the film: their lack of sexual chemistry (it takes them 7 years to consummate their marriage, mostly due to inexperience and an inability to talk about it) doesn’t negate a touching platonic relationship between two outsiders who would really rather be anywhere else. (Bonus: As a result, we get the treat of a young Jamie Dornan as Count Axel von Fersen, the queen's Swedish lover.) The film also explores the crucial role that female friendships play in a young woman’s life, often occupying far more importance than romantic ones. In fact, one of the accusations that condemned the real Marie Antoinette was that she was rumored to have intimate relationships with two of her best friends, the Princesse de Lamballe (Mary Nighy) and the Duchesse de Polignac (a sparkling young Rose Byrne).

The film has its flaws. The dialogue is stilted (although how refreshing it is to not to have actors pretend to have an accent they do not have), and Coppola sometimes fails to live by her decision to filter events through Marie Antoinette’s limited and sheltered perspective. Brief scenes of King Louis discussing France’s financial aid to the revolution in America are an injection of reality more jarring than informative given the claustrophobic nature of the protagonist’s existence. What’s more, given the rare access Coppola had as the first director to be allowed to film on location in Versailles, it seems like a missed opportunity not to have the palace play more of a role — especially since the royal family almost never leaves it. The shots of Versailles feel oddly tangential, like any other set — the only comprehensive interior shots we get are at the end, once the family has been dragged off by the revolutionary mob, and by then, the palace, like its residents, is a shell of its former glory. That would carry a much bigger gut-punch had we been made to care about it before.

And of course, there’s the fact that the film’s assumed relatability is based on a very narrow and highly privileged interpretation of the teenage experience. Coppola has faced this type of criticism with nearly all of her films — most recently for The Beguiled — which seem unconcerned with any experience beyond that of rich, white women. Granted, in this case, white privilege is period-accurate, but we’ve already established that Coppola doesn’t care much about that. If she really wanted to transgress genre boundaries, casting actors of color in traditionally white roles could have been a more innovative and inclusive way to go about it.

It’s hard to talk about Marie Antoinette without putting it in the context of the time. Not Ancien Régime France, but rather 2006 Hollywood celebrity culture. This was heyday of Paris Hilton, and pre-meltdown Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan, whose wild partying was captured by a rabid paparazzi who chastised their behavior while asking for more. Young women who rose to fame at a young age, acting the way society appeared to want them to behave, and then being torn apart — sound familiar?

But in a way, Coppola falls into the same trap her sequestered, narcissistic heroine does. The film certainly criticizes that navel-gazing, Us Weekly culture and lifestyle, but it also fetishizes it. Sure, that constant flow of champagne gives us a headache after a while, but in a “poor little rich girl” way. Left to their own devices – barring, you know, a revolution – Marie Antoinette and her friends would have continued living like this forever, sometimes enjoying it, and sometimes wishing for a more fulfilling way of life. And yet, by choosing to close the film with the revolutionary narrative, rather than cutting off (sorry, sorry) beforehand, Coppola is reminding us (or warning us) that a wind of change is indeed here at last. But we’re not sure what her ultimate intent here is – and that ambivalence is frustrating rather than intriguing.

In the end, perhaps we’re not supposed to just root for Marie Antoinette, but also for the crowd that ultimately beheads her. Regina George too, had her comeuppance.
https://www.refinery29.com/en-us

Nous ne sommes pas les seuls, dans le Boudoir de Marie-Antoinette, à avoir une opinion réservée sur ce film.

I was always skeptical of this movie and that is why I kept putting it off everytime I had a chance to watch it. In the end I had good reason too. I was always waiting for this movie to kick into gear but alas it just never did. Yeah didn't really enjoy this one.

Et le spectateur déçu de lui mettre tout juste la moyenne.
https://letterboxd.com/

Voici une vue des coulisses du film montrant Melle Kirsten Dunst souriant largement.



Bien à vous

madame antoine

"Que penser du Marie-Antoinette de Sofia Coppola" ?
Que les probabilités qu'une reine de France 1770 se soit réellement tenue comme ça sont nulles.

I want candy



Combien de nanas se seront prises pour Marie-Antoinette après le film de Sofia ?

globule a écrit:

I want candy

Combien de nanas se seront prises pour Marie-Antoinette après le film de Sofia ?

pas que



c est larry antoinette avatar sur un forum.
bien fait

Bah ça c'est grave !

En revanche, ceci n'est pas mal du tout.


#marieantoinette

Alors oui c'est vrai la scène de la baignoire c'est pas top clair

Elle n'a pas fini d'inspirer !



https://pikgram.com/kirstendunst

Que penser du Marie Antoinette de Sofia Coppola? C'est justement la question qui est posée ici.

Why Marie Antoinette Is Really Mean Girls, Versailles Edition

• According to a recent study by the USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative, film criticism remains a field overwhelmingly dominated by (surprise, surprise) white men. Refinery29’s Writing Critics’ Wrongs is an attempt to rectify that oversight. Over the course of this project, our female movie critic will be taking another look at movies that have had a major cultural impact, from rom-coms to Oscar-winners, to Oscar-winning rom-coms. For too long, women have been excluded from the conversation about the movies we love, or hate, or somewhere in between. It's time for a rewrite.
  
  
  
  When Marie Antoinette, director Sofia Coppola’s much-anticipated follow-up to Lost In Translation, premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 2006, it was booed — literally, and in reviews. Mick LaSalle of the San Francisco Chronicle called out the “handsome style piece” for lacking “wit or real significance.” Stephen Witty of the Newark Star-Ledger dismissed it as “dazed and confused,” noting that “it feels like a teenager's diary, read aloud over some awesome mixtape.” Brian Holcomb of CinemaBlend compared the story to that of “Paris Hilton if she were to be married off to an impotent French Prince instead of dating meatheads armed with camcorders.”
  
  The reviews aren’t evenly split by gender. Some men hated Marie Antoinette, but some loved it. Roger Ebert, for example, praised the film’s “fragile magic” and “romantic and tragic poignancy.” The same goes for women. Lisa Schwarzbaum at Entertainment Weekly called it the “work of a mature filmmaker who has identified and developed a new cinematic vocabulary to describe a new breed of post-post post feminist woman,” while Joanne Kaufman of the Wall Street Journal wrote that it was “ultimately as substantial as a bonbon.”
  
  Still, the overall criticism directed at the film seems to be focused on the idea that it lacks substance, a barb so often used to dismiss teenage girls. Which is ironic, given that this is precisely what the film is about.
  
  That Marie Antoinette has become a cult classic for teenage girls is no surprise. The film arguably created millennial pink, launched a nationwide, still-going-strong macaron trend, and became the inspiration for countless Pinterest party mood boards. It’s a film about a stylish historical figure that doesn’t feel like one — a relatable fantasy of wealth and privilege. Marie Antoinette isn’t a biopic, concerned with dry historical facts, speeches or big events. It’s a highly personal film, which takes us into the very limited universe of a very young woman forced to play a very public role, gorgeously laying forth the trappings of luxury for the audience to revel in, until we, like the doomed French queen, realize that it’s nothing more than a gilded cage.
  
  But most of all, it’s a movie about being a teenage girl.
  
  Marie Antoinette takes on the (low) expectations we have of young women, and the pressure to conform to standards they’ll eventually be condemned for. Think of Versailles as a high school. Marie Antoinette (Coppola muse Kirsten Dunst) is the new girl in town, the shy but pretty blonde who has grown up abroad (in Austria). She’s sent by her mother, the domineering Empress Maria Theresa (Marianne Faithfull — herself a former major It Girl), to seal an alliance between the Holy Roman Empire and France by marriage. Her intended, Louis-August (Jason Schwartzman), current dauphin of France and future King Louis XVI, is the 18th century equivalent of a shy A/V nerd, and completely incapable of standing up for his new bride in a court of gossips and mean girls.
  
  Speaking of Mean Girls — Tina Fey’s seminal high school comedy precedes Marie Antoinette by two years, and although I would bet a lot of money that Coppola wouldn’t cite Fey or the Mark Water-directed film as an influence, there are echoes of its themes throughout. Just think of the way King Louis XV’s (Rip Torn) daughters, Victoire (Molly Shannon) and Sophie (Shirley Henderson) treat Marie Antoinette, smiling and inviting her to tea while calling her a “German spy” behind her back. And has there ever been anything so Regina George as when Marie Antoinette refuses to acknowledge the King’s mistress, Madame du Barry (Asia Argento), knowing well full well that royal etiquette dictates she cannot speak to her unless spoken to first?
  
  Being a teenage girl is a lonely pursuit, and Coppola masterfully weaves quiet scenes of despair (Marie Antoinette sobbing after her sister-in-law gives birth to a boy, while she and her husband have yet to have sex, despite having been married for months) with montages of wild abandon and spending, candy-colored Manolo Blahniks and mountains of Laduree macarons. (This scene gives a whole new meaning to “On Wednesdays we wear pink.”) Still, even in the throes of lavish partying, there’s a sense of emptiness, of a vapid existence that’s slowly losing its sheen. Marie Antoinette, at first bewildered by the rules and conventions of the French court, soon becomes its master, leading fashion, gossip and bon gout — while still claiming to care about none of it. Performance, after all, is a key component of popularity.
  
  Kirsten Dunst plays this duality beautifully. You get the sense that her Marie Antoinette actually could be down-to-earth, if society had ever required her to land there. But as the queen, she’s expected to shine — be better, prettier, more stylish, more vivacious — until she’s vilified for it. When she retreats to the Petit Trianon, her small palace on the outskirts of Versailles, it’s to a very fake version of pastoral life, complete with a picturesque village and gauzy peasant dresses made of a linen that would probably cost them a lifetime of salaries. It’s the equivalent of today’s farmhouse chic — sanitized and quaint, without any of the petty bothers of actually running a farm. And yet it’s still a far cry from what Marie Antoinette is best remembered for: reportedly dismissing stories of the starving French populace with a pithy “Let them eat cake.” (A claim she dismisses as preposterous in the film. “I would never say that!”)
  
  Coppola’s merging of past and present is a device used throughout the film, from the stray pair of pink Converse concealed among a row of heeled period shoes, to the heavily 1980s influenced soundtrack that pairs The Cure's "Plainsong" with King Louis XVI's 1774 coronation. Royalty, she seems to say, is a vibe. It’s a lifestyle, not a title — be it 18th century France or 1987 Los Angeles. You may not have access to Versailles, but you know exactly what it’s like to be there.
  
  Her casting choices reflect this ethos: while a traditional period film would seek to cast based on lookalikes or impersonations, Coppola isn’t interested in that. Jason Schwartzman’s Louis August isn’t so much a historically accurate representation based on what we know about Louis XVI as he is a stand-in for highly awkward yet privileged young men thrust in situations out of their control. Louis was born to play a role he doesn’t want or even know how to play. And though it might be seen as nepotism (Schwartzman is Coppola’s cousin), Schwartzman occupies the part with a sad clown grace that eventually leads to quiet resolve.
  
  In fact, the relationship between Louis and Marie Antoinette is one of the most interesting in the film: their lack of sexual chemistry (it takes them 7 years to consummate their marriage, mostly due to inexperience and an inability to talk about it) doesn’t negate a touching platonic relationship between two outsiders who would really rather be anywhere else. (Bonus: As a result, we get the treat of a young Jamie Dornan as Count Axel von Fersen, the queen's Swedish lover.) The film also explores the crucial role that female friendships play in a young woman’s life, often occupying far more importance than romantic ones. In fact, one of the accusations that condemned the real Marie Antoinette was that she was rumored to have intimate relationships with two of her best friends, the Princesse de Lamballe (Mary Nighy) and the Duchesse de Polignac (a sparkling young Rose Byrne).
  
  
  
  
  The film has its flaws. The dialogue is stilted (although how refreshing it is to not to have actors pretend to have an accent they do not have), and Coppola sometimes fails to live by her decision to filter events through Marie Antoinette’s limited and sheltered perspective. Brief scenes of King Louis discussing France’s financial aid to the revolution in America are an injection of reality more jarring than informative given the claustrophobic nature of the protagonist’s existence. What’s more, given the rare access Coppola had as the first director to be allowed to film on location in Versailles, it seems like a missed opportunity not to have the palace play more of a role — especially since the royal family almost never leaves it. The shots of Versailles feel oddly tangential, like any other set — the only comprehensive interior shots we get are at the end, once the family has been dragged off by the revolutionary mob, and by then, the palace, like its residents, is a shell of its former glory. That would carry a much bigger gut-punch had we been made to care about it before.
  
  And of course, there’s the fact that the film’s assumed relatability is based on a very narrow and highly privileged interpretation of the teenage experience. Coppola has faced this type of criticism with nearly all of her films — most recently for The Beguiled — which seem unconcerned with any experience beyond that of rich, white women. Granted, in this case, white privilege is period-accurate, but we’ve already established that Coppola doesn’t care much about that. If she really wanted to transgress genre boundaries, casting actors of color in traditionally white roles could have been a more innovative and inclusive way to go about it.
  
  It’s hard to talk about Marie Antoinette without putting it in the context of the time. Not Ancien Régime France, but rather 2006 Hollywood celebrity culture. This was heyday of Paris Hilton, and pre-meltdown Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan, whose wild partying was captured by a rabid paparazzi who chastised their behavior while asking for more. Young women who rose to fame at a young age, acting the way society appeared to want them to behave, and then being torn apart — sound familiar?
  
  But in a way, Coppola falls into the same trap her sequestered, narcissistic heroine does. The film certainly criticizes that navel-gazing, Us Weekly culture and lifestyle, but it also fetishizes it. Sure, that constant flow of champagne gives us a headache after a while, but in a “poor little rich girl” way. Left to their own devices – barring, you know, a revolution – Marie Antoinette and her friends would have continued living like this forever, sometimes enjoying it, and sometimes wishing for a more fulfilling way of life. And yet, by choosing to close the film with the revolutionary narrative, rather than cutting off (sorry, sorry) beforehand, Coppola is reminding us (or warning us) that a wind of change is indeed here at last. But we’re not sure what her ultimate intent here is – and that ambivalence is frustrating rather than intriguing.
  
  In the end, perhaps we’re not supposed to just root for Marie Antoinette, but also for the crowd that ultimately beheads her. Regina George too, had her comeuppance.
  
  Anne Cohen https://www.refinery29.com/en-us
  

J'ai vu le film il y a quelques années;
Je l'ai trouvé naïf en tout......
Couleurs bonbon anglais, costumes fanfreluchés, attitudes, dialogues, psychologie des personnages superficiels, artificiels.....

Au premier tiers du film, j'étais somnolente d'ennui, j'ai duré jusqu'à la fin......

Ma conclusion qui vaut pour les films Les liaisons dangereuses , Valmont ...etc......
c'est qu'il a de solides à priori esthétiques, psychologiques en ce qui concerne la représentation du XVIIIème siècle français aux USA;
Un fatras de poncifs auxquels les cinéastes ne parviennent pas à échapper; et sans doute ceci est-il lié à la mentalité collective américaine qui inconsciemment, je le suppose confronte avec "son XVIIIème" à elle = la guerre d'Indépendance, d'où une période tragique confrontée à "une confiserie sucrée"......
C'est un peu malvenu, car nous leur avons été d'un secours déterminant.....