Napoleon Bonaparte (Joaquin Phoenix) led the French Republican Army under the cover of night to overtake the Federalist troops stationed at the port city of Toulon, using their own cannons to scuttle the Navy ships docked on the shores.  This victory would be the first of many from the man who would rise in the ranks to eventually become Emperor of France in 1804.  Struggling to secure an heir with his unfaithful and despondent Queen Joséphine (Vanessa Kirby), his humiliations continued after incredible losses in Russia in 1812.  Even though the battle was technically a victory, the military leader was sent to exile on the island of Elba, but France would always be his home and Joséphine, his queen. 

Ridley Scott returns to the Thanksgiving frame with Napoleon, a massive 158-minute historic epic penned by David Scarpa and destined for an exile of its own on Apple TV+ after its theatrical run.  After premiering in France to a less-than-receptive crowd given some creative liberties resulting in historical inaccuracies, the film expanded and revealed itself to be a more comical approach recounting the military leader’s various exploits focusing not so much on the war effort, but on the complications he faced when at home.  The figure was a white whale of Stanley Kubrick who, in a mix of poor timing and a failure to secure funding never got to commit his vision to celluloid.  While the Scott/Scarpa endeavor is divorced from Kubrick’s take – that screenplay is, reportedly, still under development with Stephen Spielberg for HBO – the film emulates the work of the late perfectionist, specifically Barry Lyndon (1975) in how it filters historical figures through the lens of a character study more so than a biographical document. 

Phoenix leads the way in a part that seems tailor-written for the actor; a capstone performance that melds his downbeat oafishness with obsessive ruthlessness.  Tapping into the humor of the situation may seem an odd approach to take in a film that will tangentially show the death of more than three million people across the various campaigns waged by Napoleon, but Scott treats the warfare with the utmost dignity and respect, reserving the more farcical moments for life at home.  It is not quite a comedy of manners, but the film certainly treats Napoleon as a comic figure and the magic occurs in how truthfully serious Pheonix treats his punch lines, playing the role completely straightfaced given the film a delectable deadpan tone.   

At its thematic heart, Napoleon is a film about the absurd nature of obsession and the dangers of addiction.  While Napoleon is always chasing the next victory so that he may bring home laurels to Mother France, the true object of his desire is in his wife, Joséphine.  Scott has teased a 250-minute director’s cut that will be a rose in the walled garden of the Apple streamer which expands on Joséphine’s exploits while Napoleon was out waging war.  The theatrical cut gets the message across, but it really does leave Kirby left holding the bag.  The performance still feels fully developed which lends credence to Scott’s claims that there is an entire second film’s worth of material that has been cut, but as the key to really unlocking who Napoleon as Scott and Scarpa envisioned him, the role as presented is unfortunately slight.  We never get her interiority so it is hard to tell where in the emotional register Kirby is operating each time she enters the scene.  There are moments where it seems like she has nothing but contempt towards her husband, but there are also moments she feels deeply in love with him, and in a moment towards the end of the film as she reunites with Napoleon by a pond, there is nothing for us to be able to pin down her feelings in that moment.  On one hand, it is an incredibly exciting scene to watch, but because all of her scenes are beguiling in that same way – though, admittedly, less dangerous – it loses the impact and strips Kirby of being able to give Joséphine her big final scene.  In what is supposed to be a tempestuous moment after a lifetime of pain and love is obscured by fog instead of illuminated by lightning. 

Despite the fact that the film is a character study, it is framed by massive battle sequences filmed with the bravado that course through and elevates all of Scott’s filmography amongst comparable works of his contemporaries.  Like many of his colleagues, he has a troupe of artists that he reunites with in bringing this epic to screen; cinematographer Dariusz Wolski, editor Claire Simpson, production designer Arthur Max, and costume designer Janty Yates to name a few.  This unified trust in the director really pays off in the massive battle sequences that continually grow in scale across the runtime, and most importantly, each has its own unique identity and flavor. 

The crowning achievement of the film comes right near the halfway point as Napoleon lays a trap for the Austrian and Russian armies at the Battle of Austerlitz.  Martin Phipps’ score is confident, but constantly readjusting to fit the ebbs and flow of battle, swelling as the devious nature of Napoleon’s icy trap is triggered.  His cannons fire across the frozen lake, shattering the ground upon which his enemy desperately seeks their escape and Wolski’s camera takes the plunge time after time following horse, officer, and foot soldier alike as they sink to their doom. It is filmed with all the elegance of a ballet and a far cry from the more visceral siege of Toulon which opened the film. That earlier sequence was much closer and brutal in that personal sense as the armies’ melee on the parapets, but Napoleon’s icy, cool reserve remains a constant. With the flick of his hand or the nod of his head, he sends thousands of men to their death; a stark contrast from the rough, animalistic demeanor he adopts in the bedroom with Joséphine as he furiously tries to impregnate her. Taking life is easy, creating life is hard. Finally, at the Battle of Waterloo, Wolski’s camera goes wide allowing us a full view of the sweeping vistas and the awaiting armies. Despite the rain, it is the most brightly lit of the major battles – not including a few quick shots fired in Egypt early on in the film – giving this final sendoff another unique tone. The editing is much quicker and more frantic, allowing audiences to feel the panic that Napoleon is hiding from his troops as he suffers, outnumbered, in the lower ground. 

When it comes to its central figure, the film is very purposeful in what it chooses to show us of Napoleon, but it seems unsure of how we are meant to feel about him after the fact. So often is the case with these larger-than-life figures as few people, if any, are as morally cut and dry as storytelling sometimes demands. This is a man who was a brilliant strategist on the battlefield but is shown, at least through Scarpa’s telling, to be ineffective in politics and at the homestead. He suffers loss after loss with Joséphine, and even when he ascends to the seat of Emperor, he is sent abroad on missions to secure more land for France by the political movers behind the scenes. There are long swathes of this film where it treats Napoleon as a chump only for his final moments to be a retreat on horseback followed by his slumping over the table, dying in exile. History provides the framework of this tragic arc, but we are left with conflicted feelings. Do we feel bad for this man who we have been shown framed as a hero, but only while he was at war? Does his downfall absolve him from the horrors he wrought across Europe? That question then brings in the morality of warfare at the Officer level; it is one thing to follow a command, but another thing entirely to issue it. The most glaring question, though; without Joséphine by his side, was it worth it or had his life, his achievements and victories, all been for naught? 

That same question can be applied to the film as well as the man which makes Napoleon such a struggling and fascinating work. Flawed in the way that many of Scott’s greatest works are – too short – Napoleon can be seen as both straightforward and beguiling. Historical context is often delivered through character moments so that time and place may be hard to always pin down and voiceover is reserved for pining letters from the general to his wife that will go unanswered. It is both the bleakest of romantic comedies and the most swooning of war epics. For some audiences, those themes and arcs may blend like oil and water, but Scott decants this story and delivers a truly beautiful and indulgent piece recounting the tragedy of an unfulfilled life.