"What is it? What do you have?”
Philinte asked Alceste.
Well, a little headache and a slight retching, the viewer might respond as they leave the screening of Olivier Py's film on the last hours of Molière.
Was this a working copy?
A joke?
February 17, 1673, Théâtre du Palais-Royal: in his dressing room, Molière prepares to go on stage, where he will play Argan, imaginary patient.
For the last time.
Molière, abandoned by the king, looks at his dead face in the mirror.
He coughs like a turd, he spits blood.
He's going to die.
Laurent Lafitte is Molière.
We have nothing to reproach the actor, only for finding himself in front of Olivier Py's camera, who here makes a film of exemplary nullity.
Decadence
Filmed by candlelight in order to give a twilight sfumato to Molière's last moments, this film had some aesthetic ambitions, like all great failures.
Olivier Py perhaps wanted to be Kubrick of the
Barry Lyndon
era .
Alas, it would be…
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