When a director has the reputation for exhibiting explicit sex scenes that focus more on bodily fluids than unbridled passion, it's difficult to imagine how she might effectively present a tumultuous and erotic 19th century love affair. Controversial director Catherine Breillat manages to tone down her overt feminist approach, and give the audience a gorgeous costume drama with bare-bones sexuality in The Last Mistress (French title: Une vieille maitresse.)
On the verge of marriage to Hermangarde (Roxane Mesquida), the most prized of young Parisian aristocrats, Ryno de Marigny (Fu’ad Ait Aattou) finds himself backed into a corner by societal gossip and forced to reveal the details of his ten-year affair to his future grandmother-in-law. The elderly and empathetic Marquise de Flers (Claude Sarraute) soaks in Ryno’s tale as he reveals his first encounter with his “ugly mutt” mistress at the age of twenty.
Ryno is first repelled, then uncontrollably drawn to Vellini (Asia Argento), a Spanish-Italian noblewoman whose fortune comes courtesy of an aging British husband. Ryno literally, though accidentally, draws first blood at a costume party. Vellini slices her palm on Ryno’s wine glass as she slaps it away from his smug face. Her refusal of an apology deepens his need for her, and he finds himself in a duel with her husband after trying to force a kiss on a public road. Vellini openly relishes the opportunity to watch Ryno die, which entices him further. He blatantly misses his shot, and finds himself on the brink of death with a wound to the shoulder. Vellini finally relents to Ryno’s unwavering pursuit as he lies in a half-conscious state of pain, while the doctor removes the lodged bullet. She barges into the room, throws herself upon Ryno, and laps at his blood, much to the doctor’s horror. The two embark on their affair and eventually flee to Algeria.
The love story culminates with a beautiful little girl. But Ryno and Vellini are not destined for simple happiness, and when their child dies, Vellini is irreversibly shattered. What began as a ferocious love affair is transformed by tragedy and time into an inescapable, emotionally and sometimes physically sado-masochistic bond. Though he sincerely attempts to cut all ties with Vellini for the sake of his angelic bride, Ryno quickly learns that denying inevitable desire can wreak unimaginable consequences.
The most interesting performance in the film belongs to Argento, a perpetually erupting volcano often disguised as an Italian actress. The role of Vellini was tailor-made for her, and she brings true fire and grit when she's onscreen. Newcomer Aattou works his cherubic features like a pro, never giving any indication of inexperience. His male femininity is the perfect yin to Argento’s female masculinity. Though Breillat claims the two actors hated each other, their chemistry onscreen is palpable. Their sex scenes often evoke their love and hatred, and are the obvious manifestations of their addiction to each other. At times Ryno seems vacant, and Vellini assumes complete control of the moment, focusing on her pleasure alone. But it would be wrong to assume she was the one in total control because there is no denying that Ryno always makes his own way to her room, wherever that may be.
The film is by no means a masterpiece. There is an underlying coldness at times that has the potential to put off many viewers. Visually, however, it ranks high. The attention to detail on every character’s costume is exquisite. Vellini’s clothing appropriately stands out, dominated by rich colors, and Spanish and Algerian styles. Natural lighting and picturesque framing lend vibrancy to the fabrics, ornate accessories, and meticulous set design. It is clear Breillat filmed on location, and each environment, despite its upper-class grandeur, feels lived-in.
None of the characters in the film inspire much affection, despite great performances, but they facilitate the director’s commentary on a new century’s hypocritical aristocracy. Were it not for Argento’s uncontainable personality and the mesmerizing cinematography, The Last Mistress would amount to yet another weepy period piece about a man’s inability to cope with the societal conventions thrust upon him. Breillat triumphs in finding the middle-ground between Merchant-Ivory costume dramas, and her own un-edited sexual explorations.
