FRENCH SWITCH by Kristian Lin
The Man in the Iron Mask is bound to disappoint many people who go to a swashbuckling film to see lots of swordplay. Writer/director Randall Wallace wants to do more, but unfortunately he winds up doing less.
It's 1661, the musketeers have all grown into middle age, and their exploits have become legendary. Athos (John Malkovich), Porthos (Gerard Depardieu) and Aramis (Jeremy Irons) have all retired, and only D'Artagnan (Gabriel Byrne) has stayed on in the king's service. He now leads the musketeers. But their retirement comes to an abrupt end when Louis XIV (Leonardo DiCaprio) is crowned king of France. He's a naughty boy who seduces and casts off women, lives in luxury while Parisians starve, and casually orders people executed when they displease him. Thus, Aramis hatches a plan to switch him for his long-lost twin Philippe (DiCaprio), whose resemblance to the king has caused his imprisonment in the Bastille, where he's forced to wear an iron mask.
The main source of fun is seeing DiCaprio defile his newly-won image as a dreamboat. We were all hoping his considerable talents wouldn't be entrapped into a bland leading man's career, and his work here is a reassuring sign that DiCaprio is more than just a standard-issue Hollywood heartthrob. He does a nice job subtly differentiating between his two roles. As the bad twin, his smooth self-confidence from Titanic now spills over into the smug self-absorption that we all secretly suspect movie stars of possessing. DiCaprio's Louis is a narcissistic phony, and he's intensely amusing to watch.
Nevertheless, the acting honors go to Gabriel Byrne, and after seeing him get eclipsed by the ensembles in Little Women and The Usual Suspects, it's nice to see him come out on top here. He has the right combination of gravity and flair for the conflicted D'Artagnan, especially in the scene where he placates an angry mob. Depardieu hams things up, and Malkovich and Irons never find the right tone, but Byrne projects his character's romantic frustration and his crisis of conscience.
Blame the performers' unevenness on Randall Wallace, who betrays his inexperience as a director. He fails to balance the movie's humorous and serious parts and doesn't know how to film the action sequences. Perhaps he felt he had to cover up for his older actors (of course, the aging of the musketeers is the point of the story), but the editing during the fights makes it hard to tell what's going on, or even who's who. Compare this with Disney's 1993 version of The Three Musketeers, directed by Stephen Herek. It wasn't a great film, and the younger, more athletic cast didn't have anything on these actors (though Oliver Platt was an enjoyable Porthos), but it sure was readable. This movie seems destined to be a footnote to the careers of DiCaprio and Byrne. It's not enjoyable enough to be anything else.
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