With Napoleon, director Ridley Scott once again returns to the spectacle and intrigue of period war epics that have defined much of his illustrious career. And in taking on the towering legend of Napoleon Bonaparte, Scott bites off what may be his biggest challenge yet – distilling the epic life and contradictions of this titanic figure into one sweeping yet intimate portrait. Anchored by Joaquin Phoenix’s mesmerizing take on the French emperor, Napoleon delivers lavish production value and vivid battlefield action sequences, as we’ve come to expect with Scott’s meticulous craftsmanship. But as a psychological study of power and ego, both the film and Phoenix’s performance only scratch the surface of unlocking this enigmatic character.
We first encounter Napoleon (Phoenix) as an ambitious 24-year old artillery commander, hungry to rise up the ranks as France is plunged into a bloody revolution. After strategically positioning himself as a hero during the Siege of Toulon in 1793, Napoleon catches the eye of the post-revolutionary government, who tap him to help bring order to the unstable nation. Phoenix captures the swagger yet lingering self-doubts of this military prodigy, who still feels like an outsider despite his growing renown.
Soon Napoleon finds himself entangled with Josephine (Vanessa Kirby), the stylish and politically shrewd widow, six years his senior. Their unlikely romance pushes Napoleon further towards the throne, even as Josephine’s wandering eye triggers his deep-seated insecurities. Phoenix and Kirby generate some crackling chemistry, but their affair plays out more as passionate but hollow posturing than an insightful glimpse into what truly drives these historical figures.
Through snippets of Napoleon’s adoring letters to Josephine, read aloud by Phoenix in voiceover, we are meant to view his endless military campaigns as an outgrowth of his heart’s desire and jealousy regarding his wife left alone back in France. It’s a simplistic psychological reading of such a complex character, reducing Napoleon’s legacy of conquest to little more than an exercise in ego.
Make no mistake – Scott knows his way around lavish recreations of this era, turning Napoleon’s most famous victories into technical marvels.
The camera thrusts us into the chaotic madness of the French Revolution, and the gritty, bloody carnage of early 19th century warfare.
The ample battlefield sequences, from the snow-covered carnage of Austerlitz to the smoke-shrouded fate of Waterloo, possess visceral power and immense scale. Scott’s craftsmanship remains unmatched in staging the organized chaos of pre-modern combat.
Yet while impeccably made, the battle scenes feel oddly detached in this telling of Napoleon’s story. We get little sense of the strategic genius behind Napoleon’s maneuvers, or how these moments of violence shaped his worldview. They are impressive technical showcases that lack deeper meaning or connection to Napoleon as a man. Even Waterloo, where Napoleon finally faces his destiny, feels oddly perfunctory.
Perhaps this shallow approach to the legendary general is intentional, as the film seems more interested in cutting Napoleon down to size than deifying him.
Phoenix opts for a tightly coiled, emotionally stunted version of the emperor, far from the romanticized legend of grand ambition and vision.
With his impetuous temper, awkward gait, and clumsy romantic overtures, Phoenix plays Napoleon as a pretender to greatness – an insecure boy hiding behind the veneer of power.
This semi-comic approach can be wickedly funny, capturing the absurdities of an ego run amok. When Napoleon petulantly whines, “You think you’re so great because you have boats!” to his far superior British naval rivals, the film punctures myths of masculine bravado and genius that still dominate perceptions of strong leaders. Phoenix finds dark laughs in Napoleon’s hubris and self-delusion.
Yet Phoenix’s unhinged portrayal, while an intriguing choice, denies us a Napoleon of any real depth or gravitas. Napoleon remains an enigma, when he should be the most humanized figure in a story bearing his name. Phoenix hints at the charisma and sensitivity that made Napoleon such a pivotal figure, but reduces him to a series of eccentric tics. It’s a lost opportunity to get inside the mind of this contradictory titan.
A review from Roger Ebert’s website points out the lack of depth in the film’s portrayal of Napoleon. It highlights that Phoenix’s portrayal is restrained, avoiding the “mad leader” archetype but failing to find an alternative approach to fill this void.
That lack of insight extends to the film’s exploration of Josephine as well. Kirby has proven her versatility in recent roles, but here she struggles to inject much inner life into the underdeveloped empress. Josephine pivots between a shallow seductress and wronged victim, without these reversals of fortune truly registering emotionally. We get only glimpses into what truly motivated this survivor of the French Revolution to risk it all on Napoleon. Their relationship should be the core of this biopic, but Scott reduces it to a string of colorful but hollow scenes drained of revelatory power.
The film depicts the relationship between Josephine and Napoleon as a mix of passion and pragmatism, with scenes ranging from intense arguments to moments of mutual ego-boosting. Kirby’s portrayal contributes significantly to these dynamics, balancing the intensity of Phoenix’s Napoleon, however, her portrayal is constrained by limited screen presence.
Napoleon demands a bigger canvas and more textured screenplay to capture its towering subject. At a breathless 2 hours and 38 minutes, the film opts for the greatest hits version of Napoleon’s life, sprinting through major events and battles with little connective tissue. David Scarpa’s script touches occasionally on Napoleon’s contradictions – his blend of reformist ideals with boundless personal ambition – but rarely pauses to let those complexities sink in. Quieter moments focused on Napoleon’s inner world or political maneuverings get short shrift.
Perhaps that explains the eagerly anticipated 4 hour and 10 minute extended cut awaiting audiences on Apple TV+. For any director, distilling such a sprawling life into under 3 hours would pose challenges. It’s likely the fuller version will allow Phoenix more space to flesh out his take on Napoleon beyond exaggerated caricature. And the trimmed material may provide richer context to appreciate Scott’s meticulous battle recreations, instead of experiencing them as flashy but empty spectacle.
As with Scott’s Director’s Cut of Kingdom of Heaven, the Apple TV+ version could reveal the greatness that this theatrical version only glimpses. Even in truncated form, Scott delivers lavish production value in staging Napoleon’s unprecedented rise and fall across Europe.
Cinematographer Dariusz Wolski makes every frame majestic.
And Phoenix’s gravitational presence holds this speedy CliffsNotes take together through sheer force of personality.
But as an intimate character study, Napoleon only scratches the surface. The visual splendor and Phoenix’s idiosyncratic performance can’t quite compensate for the thin script and hasty pacing. Napoleon remains an enigma here – much like the remote, unknowable legend who has fascinated biographers and filmmakers for decades. Scott is more interested in mischievously deflating the myth than truly piercing the soul and motivations of this conqueror. It captures the larger-than-life icon but misses the flawed, contradictory man. For the definitive big-screen incarnation of Napoleon, the long wait continues.
