Let’s just state it plainly: The Last Duel looks awful. There’s the hair, to start with the superficial. Matt Damon sports a horrendous medieval mullet, while Ben Affleck’s tresses are bleached to oblivion and shaped into a childish bowl cut. It’s not the kind of thing you’d normally comment on, except these haircuts are so supremely and distractingly awful even the cast wondered if director Ridley Scott knew what he was doing with them. Beyond appearances, there’s the 90s-era historical melodrama vibe of the whole affair, with Damon and Adam Driver engaging in a seemingly testosterone-laden duel over the honor of what appears to be the movie’s sole female character.
Seeing previews, I vaguely dismissed it as “probably not for me,” but a film I’d inevitably see anyway if for no other reason than Scott was directing it.
What I would not have expected, from the trailers, is a nuanced, Rashomon-esque approach to a story of sexual assault and womens rights set in 1300s France. While the story’s structure and point of view might be a surprise for the unfamiliar, the marketing angle that drives at keeping these things a secret does the movie a great disservice.
The Last Duel indeed has all the things I described above, from the bad hair to the testosterone-filled antagonism between its lead characters. But it also knows exactly how to use them to comment on perspective. Despite appearances, The Last Duel shares more DNA with movies like Gone Girl or The Handmaiden than it does with films like Braveheart, Gladiator, or Troy.
Instead, The Last Duel is a tale of three parts. Based on a true historical story, as well as a novel by the same name written by Eric Jager, the first part of the film follows squire Jean de Carrouges (Damon) as he rides through epic battle with his close friend Jacques Le Gris (Driver). As Carrouges falls into financial ruin, he marries Marguerite de Carrouges (Jodie Comer), the daughter of a traitor who comes with some political baggage and a hefty dowry. As his political station continues to worsen due to his combative relationship with the Count (Affleck), Carrouges and Le Gris see a wedge form in their friendship. This wedge is split wide open when Marguerite tearfully tells Carrouges that Le Gris raped her. Carrouges feels he has no choice but to force a trial by combat with Le Gris, whereby God, rather than the Count, will decide who is guilty.
That story, from Carrouges’ perspective, is what would have filled a movie version of this story produced several decades ago. But the script, penned by Damon, Affleck, and Nicole Holofcener, turns that notion on its head by then retelling the story from both Le Gris and Marguerite’s point of views. Small details as well as large facts shift depending on the narrator’s version of the story, reminding us of the way history books are largely shaped by the men who wrote them and not the people who lived them. It’s not a new or shocking idea, nor is the notion that women should be believed when it comes to sexual assault, but seeing it applied to an otherwise tired formula creates something far newer and more exciting.
While that inventive script is largely to credit for the film’s success, it’s not without its hitches. If you don’t know what’s coming, the first version of the story revolving around Damon’s character is worrying: “What kind of movie are we watching here? We have another hour and a half of this?” I wondered. And the final act, centered around Comer’s character, contains dialogue that at times feels a little bit too on the nose, sometimes parroted by female characters that are too thinly-sketched. The film also falls victim to the dreaded “here’s what happened after the last scene” expository text before the credits.
As something of a content warning: the third act also replays the sexual assault scene from Marguerite’s point of view in its entirety, including every detail that led up to it. Depending on your own point of view this can either be harrowing – a reminder that every smile, look, or comment can be subverted by someone with the wrong intentions – or gratuitous, particularly for anyone who finds this content triggering and has already watched a full scene of it in the film’s second act.
Wonderful performances abound here, from Damon’s gristly and resentful Carrouges to Driver’s wounded and terrifying Le Gris. Comer is unsurprisingly the MVP when it comes to moving the emotional core of the story, and Affleck’s bizarre and chaotic acting choices in portraying the Count will likely make him the scene stealer of the entire project.
If you’re put off by the mullets or the muddy looking battles, The Last Duel might have more on its mind than you’re expecting. But be prepared for some graphic and repetitive portrayals of assault.
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