The Death of Louis XIV

Opulent decay in The Death of Louis XIV

Albert Serra's The Death of Louis XIV serves as a memento mori, not surprising given the director's last feature was 2013's Story of My Death. The voluptuous fruit and delectable meats that Louis feasts on at the beginning of the film point to the eventual decay and finitude of our existence as surely as they do in a 17th century still life. The magnificent furniture and art, even the luxuriant manes of his dogs point to Louis's transience and ultimate vanity. Once Louis goes the way of all flesh, his doctors busily examine his entrails for clues to the cause of his demise.

Serra keeps his camera within Versailles, usually keeping the camera low at the eye level of the gangrenous monarch. A few shots of the gorgeous grounds are partially obscured by bars and lattice, expanding the sense of claustrophobia. Jean-Pierre Leaud, once the rising sun of  La Nouvelle Vague, gives a heartfeltly doddering performance as the ruins of The Sun King to crown his iconic career. I did not find this film as emotionally or intellectually satisfying as two of its antecedents, Rossellini' The Rise of Louis XIV and Kubrick's Barry Lyndon, but it joins them in capturing the pace and texture of European court life.