Despite struggling to provide a fresh perspective, Chevalier tells an untold history with grace, poise, and sensuality, flowing much like the music of its eponymous hero.
★★★✰✰
If the name Joseph Bologne doesn’t mean anything to you, don’t feel embarrassed—you wouldn’t be alone. A French composer, in fact regarded as the first of African descent to achieve renown and regard for his craft, the Chevalier de Saint-Georges is a figure that has largely been forgotten, or erased, from the history books. In this new biopic, director Stephen Williams (Watchmen) and writer Stefani Robinson (Atlanta) set to correct course and share this story with the masses.
The film opens with an imagined confrontation between Bologne (Kelvin Harrison Jr.) and Mozart, with a violin duel—an 18th century rap battle of sorts—enrapturing both the audience on and in front of the screen. It’s a bold place to start, akin to opening an album with the punchiest track imaginable. The scene also contains perhaps the best use of the word ‘f—’ in a 12A rated movie since 2019’s Jojo Rabbit.
From here we jump back in time, escorted briskly through Joseph’s childhood as he is privately educated in France; his plantation owner father has separated him from his mother in Guadaloupe, wanting his son’s already burgeoning musical talent to be nurtured as well as it can be. As expected for a young, biracial child, it is not the easiest time for Joseph. However, he develops a fighting spirit—the first time we see him as an adult, he’s winning a fencing match in front of Marie Antoinette (Lucy Boynton).
His subsequent friendship with the queen awards him the title of Chevalier, and it is from this new status that the main plot of the film stems. Desiring the position of director of the Paris Opera, Bologne composes a new opera to be performed before the musical committee. His lead actress, Marie-Josephine de Comarieu (Samara Weaving), fascinates him, displaying an agency and rebellious spirit that is unexpected for someone in her position, married to a Marquis and living as a titled woman in France. The pair have undeniable chemistry, and soon begin an affair, the results of which demonstrate to the Chevalier his standing in society, and his desire to escape that. The political tension of the era is a bubbling undercurrent throughout, with the climactic act finally allowing the Chevalier to address these issues head-on.
The film covers both a lot of ground in the life of Saint-Georges, but also hones in on a specific event in the composer’s life. As such, the pacing sometimes lags. Its care for the story of Chevalier’s attempt to win the director role, and his affair with Marie-Josephine, is evident. However, when compared to the impact and intrigue of the film’s final act, when Joseph begins to engage with the ideals of the swelling French revolution, it feels much like the focus has been skewed away from a much more compelling narrative. This, paired with the coldness of the lead character, makes this film a slow burn, and one that needs to be seen when the viewer is ready to pay full attention.
That being said, while Joseph is undoubtedly a cold, mostly stoic, protagonist, Kelvin Harrison Jr. excels here. Following a string of incredible performances (Waves, Luce, Cyrano), the young actor demonstrates throughout Chevalier that he absolutely knows how to command a role. He fully becomes Joseph Bologne, and with the actor having spent hours a day practising the violin, it is completely believable to viewers that this is a musical maestro before us. He is beautifully restrained is the expression of his emotions throughout, and when it comes to scenes where he breaks down or lashes out, the significance of these moments is much more keenly felt.
As his muse and love interest, Samara Weaving’s presence is equally as arresting. There is a tenacity to Marie-Josephine, but there is also a tenderness. There is hope, but there is also despair. Weaving plays these contradicting elements in perfect balance, creating a nuanced and empathetic heroine. The chemistry between the pair is electric, and the film employs some of period romantic drama’s favourite techniques (e.g. cinematic close-ups of lingering hands) to cement their romance as one worth rooting for.
In supporting roles, there are a few stand-outs. As Marie Antoinette, Lucy Boynton (Bohemian Rhapsody, The Politician) holds herself with charm and poise, but there is always a sense of nervousness underneath, hinting at the fragility of her status and her impending downfall. Alongside the central plot, the film also deals with the relationship between Joseph and his mother, who is sent to live with him following the death of his father: As Joseph’s mother, Ronke Adekoluejo offers a new voice in the composer’s life, celebrating Black culture with evangelistic zeal in contrast to the culture of the company he usually resides in.
When it comes to the form and structure of the film, its narrative storytelling techniques comply to the expectations of the biopic genre, creating a period drama that is enjoyable, but not revolutionary. However, from the elegance of the costumes and production design, to the delicate and intimate cinematography and an astonishingly good score from Bridgerton composer Kris Bowers, its technical storytelling boasts some beautiful craftsmanship. The most impressive of these elements is the film’s editing, which sweeps from one scene to another with delightful abandon. It creates a flow and a movement in the film that likens it to the symphonies its hero composes, and is an effect that levels up the film.
The Verdict
While nothing remarkable, there are elements of Chevalier that make it well worth the watch. In particular, its technical aspects make visuals feel musical, and its central performances further the careers of some of Hollywood’s brightest upcoming talents. Chevalier doesn’t leave much of an imprint afterwards, other than a vague curiosity about the true story that inspired it, but for the two hours you’re watching, it is engaging, romantic, and enjoyable.
Words by Rehana Nurmahi
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