Love and tragedy in France
By Ann Hornaday
Washington Post
Ah, l'amour, l'amour. Love, in all its strategy, struggle and surrender, gets the full French treatment in "The Last Mistress," Catherine Breillat's sumptuous adaptation of Jules-Amedee Barbey d'Aurevilly's 19th-century novel.
Indie cult icon Asia Argento and newcomer Fu'ad Ait Aattou star as ill-fated lovers Vellini and Ryno, whose erotic danse macabre descends into madness and tragedy against the prettily appointed backdrop of Paris aristocracy.
They make a visually striking pair, and there are moments when, with their tumbles of dark curls and sensuous mouths, Argento and Aattou could almost be twins; if "The Last Mistress" isn't exactly graphic, it's nonetheless explicit, right down to Vellini's orgasmic gasps and flutters.
But in Breillat's hands, the movie is less about sex than about power, as Ryno embarks on a financially and socially advantageous marriage. What binds the two comes to light as Ryno tells his future grandmother-in-law about how he succumbed to the affair.
Bodices might not be ripped in "The Last Mistress," but they're set lustily askew in this meticulously realized production, full of voluptuous visual detail and period mannerisms (so much transpires behind the well-placed fan or pair of opera glasses).
Argento and Aattou deliver appropriately outsize performances to fit the movie's sense of extravagant escapism, and Claude Sarraute delivers a slyly witty performance as the elderly lady carried away by Ryno's Scheherazade-like tale (and a glass or two of port).