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A transformation suddenly bubbles to the surface right around the crucial first-act closing mark of the period drama, “Widow Clicquot.” And it’s not a second too late. About the widow who nearly single-handedly transformed Veuve Clicquot into the world-renowned champagne brand it is today, just as the film threatens to suffocate the viewer with the dreary, stately, oh-so-proper and drab sheen of tragedy and frumpy dourness that overwhelms so many dowdy period dramas of this ilk, it froths to life, its cup running over.
Set in France during the Napoleonic Wars and based on the true story of the “Grande Dame of Champagne,” aka Veuve Clicquot (Veuve, her nickname), the film centers on Barbe-Nicole Clicquot (a luminous Haley Bennett), the unlikely savior of the champagne company she inherits when her young husband suddenly passes away.
From director Thomas Napper (“Jawbone”)— the second unit director for films including “Pride & Prejudice,” “Atonement,” and “Darkest Hour,” so naturally, Joe Wright is a producer on this project—“Widow Clicquot” is based on the true story of how Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin, at the age of 27, became Madame Clicquot after marrying the scion of a winemaking family and then took his vineyards and champagne problems, and matured them into something delicious and sensational; an empire of industry.
Following her husband’s death, all the vultures take a quick perch. Her father-in-law Phillipe Cliquot (Ben Miles) assumes he can just sell the vineyards to “protect her from ruin.” But through tears and despondency, Madame’s Clicquot immediately insists she is allowed to give the vineyard-making—from both a creative and financial perspective—a go, and somehow, the pessimistic elder Clicquot gives her a shot.
Told retrospectively and reflectively—through expressive flashbacks to the past and recalling the present—the here and now works much better thanks to its cast and tone. In the flashbacks—which aren’t very clear where they’re set at first, Clicquot recalls her arraigned marriage between herself and her erratic, eccentric husband, François (an overly-precious Tom Sturridge, who wears an odd-looking wig and appears out of depth opposite Bennett). Poetic and unconventional, he is a fanciful dandy and dreamer and, well, rather capriciously annoying and fey; it’s hard to see why an everlasting love would blossom between them. These scenes, having a lyrical quality to them, suggest a haunted love, and yes, the movie returns to them often, but it’s unwarranted as her personal tale of growing into a skilled entrepreneur—one prone to experiment with methods of making her champagne more dynamic and exciting, at the cost of potential ruin— is infinitely much more fascinating to watch.
Also more compelling is her more complex and not-straightforward affair and relationship with Louis Bohne (Sam Riley), the sales agent for Veuve Clicquot, who also becomes an unexpected paramour. Her advisor and lover their tryst is complicated, pitched somewhere between obliging romance and a FWB situation. There’s affection, sex and love, support, and sometimes scolding, but not of it is simple or straightforward, and it’s certainly not charity.
And as her independence and shrewdness gross, Cliquot demonstrates she doesn’t need a man, and certainly not one to remarry like Bohne, as the courts and the state— who would love to strip her of her vineyard writes— would like. Cliquot faces contenders to her tenuous throne on all sides; the aforementioned state— Napoleonic Code of 1804 forebode women from running businesses, something she challenged— aggressive competitors hoping to drive her out, and the unpredictable nature of seasons. She weathers it all with poise, and the movie complements it with grace (any montage assemblage the film may mount is supplely rendered).
Veuve advanced revolutionary methods her husband flirted with— soil chemistry, the vine distribution, and counter-intuitive bottling techniques—and sequences where fermentation, filtration, disgorging, and other procedural-like elements of méthode champenoise aren’t shied away from. In fact, they really are the film’s most enthralling and graceful qualities beyond Bennett.
Written by Christopher Monger (“Temple Grandin”) with revisions by Erin Dignan (“Land,” “Submergence”), tales of convention-defying people, but especially women, unfortunately, often end up being cliched, forgetting flaws and nuance for depictions of strong, but one-dimensional Joan-of-Arc narratives of female empowerment (you grow girl!)
‘Clicquot’ fortunately remembers that flaws build character, identity, and body, something Bennett always helps to develop. The sometimes demanding, sometimes too brash, risk-taking widow made missteps along the way, some of them nearly crippling the business. Eventually, though, she is able to avert financial disaster and steer through all the political machinations trying to oust her. But she does through, through mistakes, trial and error, and, of course, the tenacity to move past failures and soldier on despite everyone else telling her to take the L. Clicquot became one of the world’s first great businesswomen and one of the wealthiest women of her time, but how it’s achieved is not simply “boldly overcoming odds.” Imaginative and resourceful despite being brash, she learns, adapts, improves upon, and adjusts, which makes her story feel earned.
While Bennett commands every frame, it should be said Sam Riley hasn’t been much to speak of outside of the breakthrough “Control” performance, but he is on sure-footing here, and if not quite Bennett’s equal—that’s hard, she’s exceptionably convincing in everything she does— still quite dependable.
There are other crucial elements that help the film move past its inherent Extra Brut dryness. The score by Bryce Dessner from the National is critical here, and any of those members seemingly could not write a band tune if they tried. Dessner’s score elevates “Widow Clicquot,” making it move with shimmering intention, a gleaming pace, and, when needed, a swelling demi-sec dosage of inspirational notes.
Likewise, as Clicquot’s story fizzes towards the sweet taste of success, cinematographer Caroline Champetier’s painterly lensing truly comes alive and adds much-needed color, texture, verve, and joy to the proceedings. To this end, Napper feels much more at home in the second and third acts of the drama, away from flashbacks, tragedy, and pretentiously dull ex-husbands.
In the end, “Widow Clicquot” is a drama about turning heartbreak and tragedy into something brighter, richer, and spilling over into good fortune. And it’s tastefully made too. But romance and despair are arguably, and refreshingly, the least interesting elements of the movie. Instead, a determined, curious, and innovative négociant—and the talented woman who plays her— are what uncorks the best in this sometimes uneven but ultimately glistening portrait of ingenuity and unwavering resolve.[B]
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