Timely Stuff: Netflix's Ambitious But Misguided "Versailles"

In Timely Stuff, Hayley reviews period dramas currently available for streaming and decides whether they’re worth your time or not. 

Frequently I hear the same one-sentence review that a period drama is “boring, but looks great!” And sure, these shows are usually lauded for their aesthetics, whether that is the decadence of their costuming and art design or the attractiveness of their stars. There are a rare few that gain a larger crossover audience (Downton Abbey, The Crown) but many more go unnoticed, showing up on your Netflix suggestions after you finish season three of Outlander again, but never getting watched. How do you decide if a show is worth your time? Especially the lesser-known ones that aren’t getting as much buzz?

I am volunteering as tribute to watch and review all of the period dramas available on Netflix right now, so my fellow nerds can know how to invest their binge-watching time wisely. I also want to create more of a consistent and designated space for thoughtful criticism within the genre. I’ve been personally frustrated by how hard it is to find consistent coverage of these shows online, and when I do find something it’s usually just a “Did That Really Happen?” piece that details historical inaccuracies, which is dumb and counterproductive but I’ll rant about that at another time.

Let’s dive into our first show, Netflix’s Versailles.

“This, Madame, is Versailles.” 

That line, spoken by the Comtasse de Noailles (Judy Davis) in Sofia Coppola’s decadent Marie Antoinette (2006) remains the sharpest, clearest, and most effective way of encapsulating Versailles. It’s delivered perfectly by Davis with a metered mix of awe, indignation, embarrassment, and resolve. She says it to a fifteen-year-old Marie-Antoinette (Kirsten Dunst), as the frustrated princess questions one of the daily etiquette rituals at Versailles: the intense levée ceremony. It’s a circus in which each item must be handed to her and she must relinquish all control to the noblewomen who have been granted the permission — nay, honor — to help the future queen get ready in the morning. 

This strict code of etiquette is one of the things that Versailles is synonymous with; the other of course is a ghastly level of opulence and extravagance. I was excited to sit down and watch a show that takes place about 100 years before that scene in Coppola’s film, one I hoped would demonstrate how this power-hungry king built a doomed legacy. But, alas, that was not what I got.

In a word, Versailles is a mess. While each season has its own internal dramatic arcs, there seems to be little connecting each of them to the others. The strongest and most compelling characters are simply killed off once writers have nowhere else for them to go. The show seems to go out of its way to break its own logic for the sake of manufactured drama. Which is ironic, considering that the real Versailles is essentially a social and political experiment predicated entirely on following the rules.

(ID: George Blagden as King Louis XIV, his head framed by an ornate emblem of the sun.)

The show follows King Louis XIV (George Blagden), the infamous Sun King, as he decides to make his former hunting lodge in Versailles the new permanent residence for the royal court. Previously, the King held court in Paris, and every nobleman lived on their own estates scattered throughout the rest of France. But distance made it too easy for these nobles to plot against the King, so, in the greatest example of micromanaging in history, the King decreed that all would take up residence at Versailles. The nobility are less than enthused about this.

Versailles’ most frustrating quality is that it completely lacks a point of view. It can’t decide who we should root for, and it seems to put forward a new character or combination of characters every few episodes and test out if they are the one that the audience might consider following. Sure, this is ostensibly Louis XIV’s story, played with a casual restraint that borders on boredom by Blagden. But the error is less in Blagden’s approach, and more in the writing and directing of the series itself. Each episode presents a different version of the King: He is unstable and vulnerable, then firm and mighty. Of course, portraying historical figures is no easy feat, but a good adaptation is going to at least pick a lane and stay in it, or give good, compelling reasons why a character is changing so drastically. 

(ID: Philippe, Duc D’Orléans (Alexander Vlahos) and Louis XIV (George Blagden) walk in front of the Palace of Versailles, members of the nobility bowing as they pass.)

This series also falls into the younger-royal-sibling-is-more-interesting category that happens all too frequently, a recent example being The Crown. But The Crown succeeds in letting Princess Margaret (Vanessa Kirby/Helena Bonham-Carter) pull focus into her messy, purpose-searching life because Queen Elizabeth (Claire Foy/Olivia Colman) is a steady anchor for the show. We accept the rules built in the world of The Crown, and know that Elizabeth, bound by duty, will never change, whereas Margaret is constantly changing. If Louis XIV was successful in being an emotional anchor for Versailles, it would be more rewarding to let his charming younger brother Philippe, the Duc d’Orléans (Alexander Vlahos) play around, ultimately knowing where they both stand.

The first season is definitely the strongest. Watching a leader who is struggling to maintain power is always more compelling than watching one who has power execute it, and the tension of the first season lies in watching Louis work to get all of the nobility to sign on to the concept of Versailles. We also get the most compelling performances, notably from Henriette (Noémie Schmidt), wife of the King’s brother as well as mistress to the King. Schmidt plays the center of this semi-incestual love triangle with great vulnerability and patience.

(ID: Noémie Schmidt as Princess Henriette of England)

Season two gives us the rise and swift fall of the King’s new mistress, Madame de Montespan (Anna Brewster), with a truly bizarre turn into the occult that shifts the tone of the back half of the season completely (and not in a good way). Season three is absolutely off the rails (it took me two weeks to finish the last episode and a half), with a misguided, Man in the Iron Mask subplot and a half-baked peasant revolt storyline. The problem isn’t that the peasant storyline exists, but that it doesn’t have any compelling reason to be there aside from the writers seemingly wanting to hit you over the head with the fact that the monarchy is bad, actually.

It’s hard to create compelling narratives about Versailles: its demise is so bloody, so memorable, and so ingrained in our collective knowledge that it can become impossible to try and write life beforehand in a way that isn’t drowning in dramatic irony. For a period drama to be successful, it has to be small. It has to focus on one person, one family, one battle, one journey, one mission, one side of the story.

This is exactly what Versailles got wrong. Instead of going all-in on Louis XIV and his ambitious creation of Versailles, or the disgruntled peasant family that owns a shoe factory, or any one person in France simply trying to live their life, it tries to rebuild a moment in time with the omniscience of a history textbook. This, unfortunately, is Versailles. 

Versailles (2015-2018)

3 seasons, ten 50-minute episodes each. Available on Netflix.

Pros: Decadent sets, costumes, and hair. Strong performances from Noémie Schmidt in the first season and Alexander Vlahos throughout the series. A lot of sex scenes.

Cons: Uneven, convoluted plot. Poor pacing and a lack of satisfying arcs for its most compelling characters. A lot of sex scenes.

Do I recommend it? Ultimately, no. If you’re truly curious, just watch S1 and call it quits. But really, your time is better spent elsewhere. 

Have a show in mind that you want covered on Timely Stuff? Email goldplatedgirls@gmail.com and let Hayley know!

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