Ridley Scott hates musicians. He has them blasted, bombed and shot with cannons for much of the running time of the Joaquin Phoenix-starring Napoleon. This SparkNotes highlight of the life of the French Emperor is a spotty collection of activities the man himself got up to throughout his historied time. It does not get much more in-depth than that but there is an argument, from Scott, to be made regarding how much detail is necessary. He fires rifles at the Pyramids of Egypt as a metaphor for his conquering of the entire country – and there is a sense of masterful strokes in these moments, even if they come across as flagrantly inaccurate and a slap to the face of history. Still, so was Braveheart, and the appeal Napoleon has is that of the Mel Gibson starring classic from the previous century.
Phoenix is not in on this joke. His talent for the role comes from a stern showcase of misery which seemingly dominated the life of Napoleon Bonaparte. Whether it did or not is neither here nor there, Scott suspends the trust we should hold in him as a storyteller to attempt an impression with wild assertions, strange metaphors and a poetic misuse of his talents. Napoleon marching on and away from his first exile and into a war he cannot win. It is all well and good listing the cast before the start but nobody beyond Phoenix is truly utilised. This is a film about Napoleon, after all, though the explanations and varied interactions with Josephine (Vanessa Kirby) are as lacking as they are relegated to brief flourishes of doomed infatuation. Instead, the focus drifts from this to warfare and back to the dynamic between Napoleon and other world leaders.
At least the warfare is impressive – as is spotting Miles Jupp as Emperor Francis I. Quite the turn for a man who used to live in a pink castle on the isle of Balamory, but he, like Mark Bonnar and Rupert Everett, is there for their niche name draw and nothing more. Shot out in one highlighting scene and then seemingly left to rot in the background for the rest of their brief time in the film. Napoleon is evenly split between fixating on his taste for warfare and women, though the latter is formed as a break from the action rather than a finely-tuned or even in-touch representation of the love and mixed words he and Josephine shared. Kirby is solid as it gets for these delicately placed and layered roles – one which is not given as much presence as expected, but still flourishes given the impact of the person on the life of the lead.
As accurate a presentation of Napoleon as his turn as a villain in Night at the Museum: Battle for the Smithsonian, the work found within Napoleon is one of those last-gasp epics. The sheer scale and perspective taken in the director’s seat from Scott is something to marvel at but not for long. His desire to create interest in the scenes of warfare is well-placed, the tact of the battlefield and the meetings which bookend them a tad stale the third time they are trotted through, but what other option does he have? Phoenix is fine in his portrayal, a performance strong enough to forget the star power but maintain a sense of ownership of the role.
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