Napoleon: A Grand, Chaotic Spectacle, Featuring Joaquin Phoenix as the Emperor of Dad Humor

Beware of anyone, including myself, proclaiming Ridley Scott's "Napoleon" as a cinematic triumph. The descriptor "good" might be a stretch. "Napoleon" sprawls across the screen, a messy pageant of grandiosity and muted tones, resembling a newly printed map cleverly distressed to feign antiquity. It dances on the fine line between boredom, pretentiousness, and a near-parodic silliness. Yet, in the tally of flaws reminiscent of battlefield casualties, a mild but undeniable allure persists. Perhaps it's the eccentric portrayal of Napoleon by Joaquin Phoenix that adds a curious charm to the spectacle.

Phoenix's Napoleon is a testament to oddity, showcased brilliantly in moments where he, with an imperceptible stomp of his diminutive foot, rebukes a British ambassador: "You think you’re so great because you have boats!" It's an oddball delight, an enjoyable quirkiness that manages to pierce through the snoozy interludes. The film plunges into chaos from the start, seizing an opportunity in the midst of the guillotine's 1793 fervor as Marie Antoinette meets her gruesome end. A gory executioner triumphantly displays her severed head, sparking the intrigued murmurs of fifth-grade boys echoing a collective "Cool!"

Into this chaotic backdrop strides young Napoleon Bonaparte, labeled as "an ambitious gunner." Swiftly claiming victory at the Siege of Toulon, repelling Anglo-Spanish forces and their Royalist allies, Napoleon's ascendancy unfolds amidst handsomely executed battle scenes. Swords slash and jab, horses meet tragic fates, yet our protagonist, undeterred by a cannonball-wounded steed, fights on. The film captures the sweat-inducing exertion of war, though not in a conventionally sexy manner.

"Napoleon" is a film of contradictions—grandiosity and messiness, pretentiousness and silliness—yet within this chaotic canvas, Joaquin Phoenix's eccentric portrayal injects a peculiar and undeniable charm. As the narrative navigates through historical tumult and battle scenes, the film invites audiences to endure its quirks, offering moments of oddball brilliance that, despite the tumultuous sprawl, make the journey curiously compelling.

Despite Joaquin Phoenix's Napoleon lacking the conventional allure of sexiness, his courtship of the widowed and disadvantaged Josephine de Beauharnais, portrayed by Vanessa Kirby in a delightful performance blending matter-of-factness with sultriness, unfolds as a peculiar dance. Clad stiffly in his uniform for their first meeting, Napoleon's sartorial choice prompts Josephine's playful inquiry, challenging his bodacious self-regard. Their eventual marriage, driven by Josephine's need for stature, takes a rather matter-of-fact turn in the bedroom—Napoleon works diligently, while she stares into the middle distance, perhaps not contemplating England.

The chemistry between Kirby and Phoenix emerges as the film's standout element, portraying a dynamic where she eyes him like a barely instructable schoolboy, and he gazes at her helplessly, akin to an orphaned calf. The movie comes alive in their fights and reconciliations, moments where their interaction provides glimpses into the complexities of their relationship. Director Ridley Scott, working from a script by David Scarpa, approaches the project with utmost seriousness, delving into a historical period rarely explored on the big screen. Scott's commitment to the endeavor is evident, echoing his diverse filmography that spans science fiction classics, heartfelt epics, and occasional comedic deviations.

While Abel Gance's 1927 silent epic remains the most famous portrayal of Napoleon on screen, Scott's dedication to the subject matter is palpable, marking a departure from his previous works. From his debut in "The Duellists" to science fiction classics like "Alien" and "Blade Runner," and epics like "Gladiator," Scott has demonstrated a willingness to explore diverse genres. The grand-scale moving-picture mural that is "Napoleon" stands as a testament to Scott's adventurous spirit, encapsulating the director's propensity to push boundaries and embrace cinematic challenges across the spectrum of storytelling.

In the ornate tapestry of Ridley Scott's "Napoleon," the collaborative efforts of cinematographer Dariusz Wolski and production designer Arthur Max shine through, crafting gilded tableaus that celebrate historic moments such as Napoleon's self-crowning as emperor in 1804. While this audacious act may not be presented as a gonzo baller move, Scott navigates the portrayal with an appreciation for Napoleon's outsized ego—a character trait that he seems to like without necessarily endorsing.

The film delves into the polarized perspectives on Napoleon, with the French viewing him as a hero and the English as a potential psychopath. Scott, however, leans into the universally acknowledged aspect of Napoleon's brilliance as a military strategist, staging battle scenes with palpable relish. The 1805 Battle of Austerlitz, as visualized by Scott, unfolds as a grimly glamorous spectacle, with cannonballs shattering ice, horses, and soldiers tumbling into icy waters painted with streaks of blood—an elegant horror that momentarily captivates.

As for the enigmatic man behind the legend, portrayed by Joaquin Phoenix, the film offers a less definitive view of Napoleon's character but drops intriguing hints. A delusional egomaniac? Certainly. A sensitive soul dedicated to the love of one woman, even if he eventually divorced her for failing to produce an heir? Affirmative. An existential cutup with a penchant for peculiar dad humor? Absolutely. In one memorable dinner table argument with Josephine, he bellows, "Destiny has brought me here! Destiny has brought me this lambchop!" Phoenix's portrayal encompasses a spectrum of characteristics—from somber and boastful to befuddled and fearless, with moments of sheer ridiculousness. At times, he wears a hurt, confused expression, resembling a sad little boy in an outsized hat.

While "Napoleon" may not leave audiences with a comprehensive understanding of the man behind the legend, it maintains a certain honesty. Phoenix's portrayal presents Napoleon as a figure obscured by legend and hearsay, a man whose complexity eludes full comprehension. The film, if not precisely good, is undeniably something—an ambitious undertaking that feasts upon the intriguing lambchop of Napoleon's story, a narrative destiny brought to Ridley Scott's doorstep.

In conclusion, Ridley Scott's "Napoleon" may not be a conventional historical epic, but it is undeniably something—a lavish and ambitious portrayal of the enigmatic French military strategist. Scott, alongside cinematographer Dariusz Wolski and production designer Arthur Max, crafts visually stunning tableaus that celebrate pivotal moments in Napoleon's life, from his audacious self-coronation to the glamorous horrors of the Battle of Austerlitz.

Joaquin Phoenix's portrayal of Napoleon adds layers to the complex character, depicting him as a delusional egomaniac, a sensitive soul, and an existential cutup with a flair for peculiar dad humor. The film navigates the contrasting perspectives on Napoleon—hero to the French, potential psychopath to the English—leaning into the universally acknowledged brilliance of his military strategy.

While "Napoleon" may not offer a definitive understanding of the man himself, it remains honest in its portrayal, acknowledging the elusive nature of a figure obscured by legend and hearsay. Phoenix's performance captures the essence of a character so multifaceted that complete comprehension is an elusive feat.

In essence, "Napoleon" is a cinematic feast, a lambchop of a story that Ridley Scott, driven by destiny, embraces with all the grandiosity and relish that characterizes his diverse body of work. The film, if not a traditional historical biopic, stands as a testament to Scott's adventurous spirit and his willingness to tackle cinematic challenges with vigor and creativity.