In a key scene from the film Arlette, Mariloup Wolfe’s third feature film, Maripier Morin, decked out in a glittering corset, panties, collar and royal blue cape, is photographed on a throne, scepter in hand. The image – which is found on the front page of a news magazine – is titled “La culture, c’est moi”, in reference to the apocryphal phrase attributed to Louis XIV “l’Etat, c’est moi”. .
This anecdote alone could sum up what the artisans of the film tried to create: a satire punctuated with referential images, where social criticism is enhanced by a good dose of erudition and intertextuality, all without losing sight an audience eager for laughter and entertainment.
Suffice to say that they worked hard to dig their own precipice as the ambition was vast and riddled with traps.
Arlette Saint-Amour (Maripier Morin), designer and director of a fashion magazine, is approached by the Premier of Quebec to rejuvenate the image of his government. Manipulated like a pawn on a chessboard, she finds herself overnight Minister of Culture – “minister of nothing”, as we like to remind her in the National Assembly.
It was without counting the audacity and the determination of the young woman. In a few months, thanks to her looks and her outspokenness, she manages to create a real enthusiasm around culture, to promote artists and books, without regard for the budget, neoliberal convictions and the immense power of his colleague from Finance. A merciless struggle then begins between two visions of the world, two personalities and two generations – a struggle dictated by the power of the image and the ability to take blows.
The premise does not do half measures to demonstrate the challenges and prejudices faced by a woman projected into a male environment, while flaunting the absurdities that reign in the political world. The boys’ clubs, sexism, misogyny, the burden of beauty, neoliberalism, zero deficit, elite corruption and artist hypocrisy are all touched upon at one point or another. The reflections, although interesting, would have deserved to be dug more deeply.
Flamboyance versus truth
Shot in the corridors of the National Assembly, the film seeks to embrace superficiality to better feed it, in particular by multiplying the parallels between the political universe of Quebec and the court of the Palace of Versailles or, randomly, of Buckingham.
Baroque, expressive and grandiloquent arias by Vivaldi, Bach and others open the scenes; they are crowned — somewhat like Bridgerton, the hit Netflix series — with the imposing and haunting voice of Gilbert Sicotte. The sets and costumes are flamboyant. The camera lingers on the grandiose frescoes, multiplies the vertiginous wide shots and takes advantage of the subdued lighting to sublimate the place, without however completely succeeding in making people forget the austerity of the Blue Room.
The story also struggles to avoid the pitfalls of caricature to offer the substance and interiority that would allow the public to identify with the quest of the characters (or at the very least to get involved in it). Even the heroine has only a few scenes scattered here and there – and all in all not very useful – to offer a glimpse of her background, her values and her personal life. Ironic for a film that seeks to explain the chasm that exists between the woman and the politician.
People’s Choice
In his direction, Mariloup Wolfe manages despite everything to immortalize moments of truth and to highlight the talent of actors of the caliber of Paul Ahmarani, Antoine Bertrand and Benoît Brière. In the title role, Maripier Morin pulls out of the game and shows a naturalness that eclipses the woman behind the actress.
However, this erasure is short-lived. Once the credits are wrapped and attention returns to the star, it is difficult not to see the character of Arlette as a mirror held up to the actress – who had in recent years withdrawn from public life, targeted by allegations sexual harassment, physical assault and racism — as well as society.
The production, by choosing to put the talent of the actress before her personal story, deliberately asks the question to the public: can we separate the art from the artist? We will see the answer in the room.