Film review: Marie Antoinette

Frosted with luscious images of opulence and youthful antics, Marie Antoinette is a sweet concoction-light in dialogue, but heavy on the visual. In the manner of a sugary treat, the film relies heavily on the guilt factor: aristocratic wastefulness, gossiping ladies of the court and, of course, sexual infidelity. It's everything we love to see, but nothing of particularly insightful, historical importance.

But who really cares about all that serious monarchical stuff when we're offered a chance to enter the glamorous world of an 18th century it-girl, where clothes and boys and drunken revelry are just as pertinent (if not more) than they are now? In this case, the revisionist twist to the period piece makes a whole lot of sense since girls will be girls-in this century or a past one.

Kirsten Dunst holds her own as the 14-year-old Austrian princess married off to the impotent but endearing French Dauphin, Louis XVI (Jason Schwartzman). With girlish whimsicality, Dunst fulfills director Sofia Coppola's impression of a misconstrued teenager who is materialistic but not heartless. Although the new Dauphine denies declaring the infamous statement "Let them eat cake," in response to the protests of a public deprived of bread and basic staples, she is nonetheless oblivious to the responsibilities of those in power. Sure, she sighs and scoffs at court rituals, savors the tranquility of her children and cottage sanctuary and valiantly proclaims she will stay by her husband's side in the face of masses storming on the palace grounds. But this vision of a naive and misunderstood Marie Antoinette does not excuse the soon-to-be queen. Our senses are seduced but our sympathies are not, and what the film fails to do in its attempt at a personal portrayal is establish a sense of intimacy.

Coppola's sparse dialogue in Lost in Translation engaged the possibility of human connection amidst an isolating environment. But her attempt to apply this weighted silence to a tween saturated in luxury is unnatural and clashes with the pace of the chatty young nobility. Inject as much upbeat contemporary music as you want, but the lack of dialogue doesn't make for understated emotional poignancy. Rather, the silence straps on weights to the film's embellished train. Coppola certainly achieves her goal of sidestepping the stuffy historical drama since she removes most of the history from the film. Instead, we're fed an eloquent chick-flick-visually delectable but just short of fulfilling.