Jean Cocteau first presented his play in 1946 and committed it to celluloid two years later. Anyone at all familiar with his filmic re-working of the legends of Tristram/Yseult and Orpheus/Eurydice will be conscious of his recurring theme of Love finding its ultimate fulfilment in Death. Plenty of scope here for this rather morbid concept as it depicts a Queen with a death wish in love with a man whose original intention was to assassinate her. The mystique is further enhanced by Cocteau having written her as composite of Empress Elizabeth of Austria and King Ludwig II of Bavaria, both of whose lives (and deaths) have never ceased to exert a strong fascination.
Cocteau had originally planned to entitle the piece 'The Dead Queen' but had already been beaten to it by de Montherlant in 1942 and also discarded 'Angel of Death'. The title he eventually chose is masterly not only by virtue of its emblematic associations but because it reflects the intense bond between the Queen and Stanislas, either of whom will die if the head of the other is cut off.
Cocteau has retained the three Act format and in Act 1 we are introduced to the protagonists and made acutely aware of the rivalries, intrigues and machinations that are an integral part of Court life, even today! This Act works best of all whilst the second Act seems to lose momentum before building to a tremendous climax.
Most of the original stage cast reprise their roles. When asked by his 'mentor' what he would like to do with the character of Stanislas, Jean Marais allegedly replied: "To say nothing in Act 1, cry with joy in Act 11 and fall upside down on a staircase in Act 111." He certainly got his wish and his tumble attracted one critic's comment "He is not an actor, just an acrobat!" There is no doubting Marais' strong presence in the role but alas this is not matched by his voice. Newcomer Silvia Monfort impresses as the treacherous Edith and as the equally treacherous security chief Jacques Varennes quietly walks away with most of his scenes. Of course no one walks away with any scene when Edwige Feuillere is on the screen and the spectacle of this superlative artiste in full flow is thrilling. Indisputably one of France's eminent tragediennes her tour de force as the Queen ranks alongside her stunning portrayals as the Nastasia Filippovna of Dostoevsky and Balzac's Duchess of Langeais.
The talent behind the camera is just as impressive with Art/Production design of the highest quality whilst Cocteau's favoured composer Georges Auric has expanded his original music for the stage. Christian Matras again shows why he was one of the most sought after of cinematographers.
Needless to say the critics in their infinite wisdom have damned this film with faint praise and labelled it as 'filmed theatre'. What exactly did they expect? It was not Cocteau's intention to disguise its stage origins and we owe him a debt of gratitude for having left us a record of a grand and gracious manner of acting that is now alas in this age of mediocrity, totally defunct.
