A Fencer, a Composer, and a Revolutionary Walk into Versailles

When seeking an excuse to write about the 2022 biopic Chevalier, I learned that this week is the 236th anniversary of an obscure event that marked the start of the French Revolution in 1789. So that’s cool! But nobody actually needs an excuse to watch this movie.

Is it perfect? Friends, it’s a biopic. Capturing the essence of someone’s life in less time than it takes for the Justice League to do a round of icebreakers is a fool’s errand. Especially if your subject had the kind of elevator-pitch-defying life that Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges, forged from 1745 to 1799. An incomplete glimpse of his resume:

• champion fencer

• virtuoso violinist

• composer of symphonies, operas, etc.

• conductor

• antislavery activist

• soldier in the French Revolution!!

So what’s notable about Chevalier isn’t that it’s flawed but that it succeeds as well as it does, both storytelling-wise and history-wise.

Bologne has been dubbed “the Black Mozart” by people who don’t know or don’t care that A) he got famous before Mozart and B) Mozart lowkey plagiarized his music. The movie opens with a jaunty middle finger to that framework: Mozart’s performing. As a stunt, he smugly accepts Joseph Bologne’s offer to play with him, only to be so thoroughly smoked in a violin solo-off that he marches offstage demanding, “Who TF is that?!”

On the one hand, this never happened. On the other hand, it’s awesome.

Flashback! Little Joseph is brought to a Paris boarding school by his white father, a Guadeloupe-based enslaver who believes Joseph’s talents make him worthier of basic human rights than the other people he legally owns. He tells Joseph, “Always be excellent.” Whereupon Bill Preston Esq. and Ted Logan arrive from 1989 San Dimas, California, to adopt this kid. I wish. After delivering his parting piece of baggage—“No one will tear down an excellent Frenchman”*—Enslaver Dad trots off to write his NYT column.

Of this movie’s many good qualities, subtlety is not on the list. I don’t think that’s a failure of screenwriter Stefani Robinson or director Stephen Williams; it’s a choice. They’re playing to the back row, probably because that’s where the industry’s white gatekeepers sit, if they’re willing to enter the theater at all.

But what it forgoes in nuance it makes up for in pacing! Instead of the excruciating fifteen-ish minutes of racist bullying I expected, there’s a speedy montage intercutting Joseph’s growing prowess at fencing and violin-playing—the two most important classes at Aristocrat School—with a single attack that speaks volumes. And BAM, he’s grown up, now played magnificently by Kelvin Harrison Jr.* Often, actors in period films are more attractive than their historical counterparts, but IRL Bologne was a smokeshow so this casting counts as historical accuracy.

Joseph duels some white guy who’s, I guess, the top-seeded fencer in France? Picture WWE with toy swords. The white guy’s promoter(?) gives a speech that makes George Wallace sound coy. By contrast, Joseph’s hype man—his royal white bff*—insists all the “blood purity” nonsense is very Last Year. (What year is this, exactly, you ask? Don’t worry about it.) Prince Louis Philippe, a cousin of King Louis XVI, really was friends with Bologne and literally changed his name to Philippe Égalité in 1792, so I’m awarding broad historical accuracy points. He’ll always be White BFF to me, though.

Did I mention that the king and queen of France are at this duel? Well, they are. When Joseph wins, Marie Antoinette** calls him “a true man of France”* and spontaneously appoints him Chevalier de Saint-Georges. (“Chevalier” means “knight”; Saint-Georges was Bologne’s father’s noble title.) Bologne actually got knighted several years before Marie Antoinette even showed up in France. But the larger point—that recognition of Joseph’s achievements comes at the whims of powerful white people who haven’t even thought to bring a cool sash for him—stands.

Cut to one year later. (What year would that be? Still unclear.) The score by Kris Bowers and Michael Abels, already excellent, kicks it up another notch. Queenie and Joseph are (roughly historically accurate!) besties now, attending the opera together and snarking about its need for new management. At the afterparty, Joseph, a full-fledged celebrity, mingles comfortably with the 1%. The opera’s star singer, played by—insert double-take—Minnie Driver,* propositions him; he turns her down without batting an eye.

He’s immediately distracted/smitten by a younger white lady who’s, for some reason, singing opera in the middle of the room. I rolled my eyes so hard that I didn’t get a good look at Samara Weaving’s* character, Marie-Joséphine, until Joseph introduces himself to her. She charms him by having never heard of him. Joseph, raise your standards! They’re interrupted by MarJo’s cousin, the sister from Fleabag,*** who whisks MarJo away because MarJo’s husband (TWIST/gasp) has given her a curfew.

Joseph tells Queenie—who’s been symbolically playing with a firecracker, as one does—that he’d like to run the Paris Opera, since he’s beaten everyone at fencing and needs a new project. She hedges, noting that a guy named Gluck (“He’s not even French!!”* protests a scandalized Joseph) also wants this gig.

Queenie has a rich white lady’s version of a brilliant idea: Joseph and Gluck will each compose and PRODUCE an opera for the PO’s hiring committee. The committee will choose the winner, who’ll become the PO’s new director. This unhinged contest, though invented for the movie, feels plausible to me. People have done nearly as much when applying for midlevel office jobs.

Sidenote: The attempted rehabilitation of Marie Antoinette’s image is among my least favorite trends in feminist-branded pop-history. If she were alive today she would’ve been on the Blue Origin flight with Katy Perry. She would’ve worn Marilyn Monroe’s dress to the Met Gala. She would own a jacket that says “I really don’t care, do u?” Even the most generous revisionism cannot save Marie Antoinette from herself. I endorse this movie’s depiction of her as a shallow, self-interested, obliviously destructive person.

Another choice I endorse: The movie lets Joseph be arrogant. He tells Gluck, “I’ve never lost a bout.” (In case we forgot he’s a fencer.) He’s turned Enslaver Dad’s toxic mantra into fuel and armor. IRL Bologne was known for his modesty, but cinema has given us 100+ years of obnoxious white prodigies with whom Bologne could’ve mopped the floor COUGHBobDylanCOUGH. Let this genius have an ego too!

After a night of (historically accurate!) carousing with BFF, Joseph gets word that Enslaver Dad has croaked and Joseph’s newly freed mother, Nanon, is coming to live with him.

The real Nanon lived with Bologne for much of his youth and beyond, but in the movieverse, they’ve been apart since pre-flashback times. Their reunion is emotionally complicated, partly because Nanon disapproves of Joseph’s assimilation into white French society and Joseph is defensive about it. Ronkẹ Adékoluẹjo’s outstanding performance turns Nanon, who’s written as primarily a mouthpiece, into a fully-formed person and arguably the movie’s most compelling character. I wrote “OSCAR NOW” in my notes every time she was onscreen.

Meanwhile, Joseph launches Operation Opera. The movie wisely avoids too many “genius makes ingenious marks on paper” scenes. Instead we see the hustle. To mount a show, you need money. Who has money? Fleabag Sister—government name Stéphanie Félicité, comtesse de Genlis. She agrees to be Joseph’s producer, on the condition that he adapt her new novel into an opera once he’s running the PO. I totally could’ve shipped Joseph and this savvy rich authoress, but instead Joseph’s interested in her cousin, MarJo. Why, you ask? File that question with “What year is it?”

Joseph wants MarJo as his lead singer. One problem: her husband.* He Kool-Aid-Mans himself into the movie to inform Joseph that…

• his job is hunting for spies??

• he’s keen on exposing “the enemy within”

• he’s virulently racist

• he hates art

• all kinds of art; cannot stand to look at a painting

• but especially art that his wife can perform in front of other dudes

• because that’s sex work

• and sex work makes an otherwise perfectly usable woman worthless

He punctuates this by firing a gun, in case you needed confirmation that he’s Evil and Dangerous.

MarJo decides to do the opera anyway while Evil Husband’s out of town spy-hunting. Sure. What could go wrong?

If you’re thinking this movie’s been pretty on the nose so far, let me introduce you to Marie-Joséphine, whose main personality trait is lamenting her “lack of autonomy” as a woman. This is both valid, up to a point, and deeply tedious. Does it deter Joseph from hooking up with her? Noooope.

Nor does MarJo’s cluelessness about anything outside her own experience. Joseph patiently explains France’s anti-miscegenation laws to her and listens to her equate spousal abuse with slavery. When she asks if he isn’t into Black women he replies with scathing succinctness, “What a thing to say.” Which does still beg the question of what he sees in MarJo vs. literally anyone else, plus the meta-question of why a white lady gets this much screentime. But Bologne was rumored to have been involved with Marie-Joséphine de Comarieu de Montalembert, so I grudgingly grant points for historical accuracy.

BFF isn’t sold on this romance either. Joseph’s like, you date married women all the time. BFF’s like, yeah but their husbands aren’t maniacs. Listen to BFF, Joseph!

When BFF invites Joseph to a super-secret meeting, MarJo insists on tagging along. Turns out it’s a planning session for the REVOLUTION (twist/gasp). BFF talks earnestly about the social contract and the universal rights of man. MarJo asks, gotcha-style, if he sees women as equals; he’s like, totally. A class traitor and a feminist, as well as an antiracist! Joseph, date BFF instead!

Alas, Joseph declines BFF’s invite to go crowdsource revolutionary ideas in England (tbf does seem like a long shot) so he can keep banging MarJo and indulging her daydreams about living with him on a desert island. Ma’am, do you know how to boil water? Have you ever in your life trimmed your own nails? Grow up.

Nanon also disapproves of the MarJo saga. Joseph claims she doesn’t understand his world; she zings him with “Your world? You are a tourist in theirs.” OSCAR NOW.

Remember that opera? It’s ready! It’s called Ernestine, by the way, and the movie features several excerpts of this 1777 Bologne composition. I know nothing about opera but it seems solid! Had the film’s original score not seized my brain by the stem, never to let go, I probably would’ve appreciated the Bologne samples even more.

Team Joseph performs Ernestine for the PO committee. It’s a hit! Job offer incoming! But TWIST: Minnie Driver and her coworkers petition Queenie to pull a “DEI rollback” on Joseph’s hiring.

SIDENOTE TWIST: This really happened! In 1776 Marie-Madeleine Guimard and two other performers did send Marie Antoinette a racist petition that prevented Bologne, WHO DID REJECT GUIMARD ROMANTICALLY, from directing the Paris Opera!! Historical accuracy sucker punch!!!

Queenie goes full centrist Democrat, saying she can’t defy “the wishes of my court.” Joseph’s indignant “Iiii am in your court!” is still reverberating in my skull thanks to Harrison’s top-tier line reading.

Does this experience humble Joseph? Heck no! He’s rightly, cathartically furious. At the afterparty for Gluck’s inferior opera, he roasts the court to a crisp.

• To Gluck: “Nothing more stale than a Greek tragedy, but you’ve outdone yourself.”

• To Minnie Driver: “All this because I wouldn’t bed you??”

• To the whole court: “You REEK of mediocrity.”

He declares, “You know I am the best.” Minnie Driver retorts, “You’re right... But I don’t care.” She’s instantly sworn in as the US secretary of defense.

Queenie calls security. Joseph gets dragged out, yelling over the impeccable score, “Your people are starving in the streets!!!”—a very particular kind of mic drop that I’d argue works here.

If you thought this was rock bottom, wait! On the way home Joseph gets jumped by Evil Husband’s goons! They’re gonna break his hands!! OMG no!!!

But Evil Husband relents when MarJo intervenes, which… hmmmm. Bologne did get jumped—twice—in two different countries!—and fought off his attackers handily, unassisted by white ladies. Guy was a professional fencer! If only this movie had replaced 60% of MarJo’s scenes with swordfights.

Six months later! (In what year? Stop asking!) Now it’s rock bottom: Joseph’s persona non grata at court, and MarJo, who’s ghosted him to appease Evil Husband, is visibly pregnant. (Heads up: this will end badly.) When Joseph pitches a “let’s run away together” scheme, MarJo tells him to get lost. Never trust a rich white lady’s desert island fantasy!

Nanon shakes Joseph out of his funk by taking him to a Black neighborhood, where…

• turns out Black people have music and fun and community too!

• Joseph learns to play a drum

• he spots a Black boy watching him and lets the kid join in, and I’ll be honest, I teared right up

• Nanon gets to dance with a guy! Love that for her!

This whole “rediscovering your marginalized heritage” arc might feel overdone, but seeing Black joy in a PERIOD DRAMA set in EUROPE is rare enough that I can’t knock it.

Brace yourself, though: Fleabag Sister brings devastating news. Content note for infanticide—which tells you everything you need to know right there except who did it. Evil Husband did it. This is based on contemporary gossip about Bologne and the Montalemberts, so… partial credit for historical accuracy? Narratively, it may feel like a gratuitous dose of Black pain, meant to satisfy those who find Joseph’s childhood and the professional f*ckery insufficiently traumatic. Or it may feel like a fitting acknowledgment of the losses that every survivor and descendant of the Triangle Trade has endured in some form. Definitely not my call to make. In any case, Nanon supports Joseph through his grief. She holds him while he cries, braids his hair (previously hidden beneath a Euro-wig), and reminds him that white people can never truly control them: “There is always a choice—to fight.” OSCAR NOWWWW.

Speaking of fighting, the revolution is, like, about to happen? So while commoners riot and the score goes HARD, Joseph composes new music! He consults BFF about doing a concert to fundraise for mutual aid and revolutionary activities! BFF is all in; I wrote “Marry BFF, Joseph!!!” in my notes so if you’re expecting another historical accuracy check, that ship has very much sailed.

MarJo has the audacity to resurface and instigate one last round of Oppression Olympics, but Joseph is over it. He compassionately yet firmly rules out reconciliation, even on MarJo’s fantasy island where she would’ve presumably learned to do laundry. ABOUT TIME.

White ladies cannot stop bothering him, though. Queenie orders him to cancel his concert because she finds its vibes insulting. Joseph delivers one last zinger: “Not everything is about you people.” Insert fifty fire emojis!!!

He walks onstage without his wig, his cornrows showing. Nanon is in the audience! His composition incorporates violin AND drums, synthesizing his cultural roots! (None of this happened; Bowers wrote the piece; not important right now!)

Final TWIST: Evil Husband’s here to arrest and/or shoot Joseph! But the audience decides NOT TODAY and tackles him. Joseph exits the concert hall, signaling for the orchestra to keep playing behind him. Violins!! Drums!!! Outside, people are rioting left and right. Queenie’s there but Joseph swans past her in slow-mo without a glance. BFF yells “Freedom!!” and I ate up every ridiculous second of it. I would not have been mad if the building had exploded behind Joseph, except that Nanon and BFF and Fleabag Sister are still in there. (Also! Philippe and Stéphanie hooked up IRL, which the movie alludes to by having them hold hands. Adorable! Historical accuracy ftw!)

Per the postscript, Joseph led an all-Black regiment in the revolution (true), but then Napoleon sucked (true) and much of Joseph’s music was lost/forgotten due to racism (true with caveats) UNTIL NOW. Bologne’s rousing Violin Concerto in G Major, Op. 8 plays over the credits.

This movie has no chill, no timeline, incredible music, a staggering text-to-subtext ratio, and punch-the-Nazis energy. I recommend it in all its messy glory.

Plot, pacing, and structure: 4. It’d be a 5 without MarJo taking up so much space. Her plotline probably made the movie sound marketable to some white folks in a boardroom, but everything else about Joseph’s story is magnitudes more interesting.

Characters: 4. Every character is based at least loosely on a real person—which isn’t a given, even in biopics. Of course, dramatic license abounds (Marie Antoinette actually remained a fan of Bologne for years after the opera debacle; Bologne and Gluck weren’t enemies; Guimard was an opera dancer, like Adele’s mother in Jane Eyre, not a singer; Marie-Joséphine’s husband did like art, etc.) but lots of relationships roughly align with the historical record. Joseph and Nanon have genuine depth thanks to fantastic performances. We’ve also got Stock Villains we love to hate, Plucky Sidekicks we simply love, and MarJo, who is… there. A lot. Again I’m deducting a point for MarJo.

Historical accuracy: 3. It’s wild how much stuff in this movie actually happened—and how much more was rumored to have happened. In a mere 104 minutes, there’s inevitably tons of compression and remixing of events, with major temporal wibbly-wobblies. But even the biggest creative liberties do feel rooted in larger truths.

Themes: 5. Individual successes on oppressors’ terms can’t substitute for systemic change and personal authenticity; being French is overrated; eat the rich; become ungovernable.

*Naturally, zero of these actors are French and the default accent is King’s English.

**Lucy Boynton sighting! Period drama nerds will know her as Margaret Dashwood in the 2008 Sense and Sensibility and Young Beatrix in Miss Potter. Let us not speak of Bohemian Rhapsody, except to say RIP Freddie.

***Great to see Sian Clifford in something else! Pay that woman, Hollywood!