Adapted from the fin de siecleDecadent novel of the same name by Jules Barbey d’Aurevilly, Catherine Breillat’s The Last Mistress tells the tale of a French aristocrat’s tumultuous relationship with his Spanish mistress. On the eve of his marriage to a pure-hearted, almost saintly young noblewoman, Ryno de Marigny (Fu’ad Ait Aattou) must explain his persistent dalliance with Vellini (Asia Argento) to his future bride’s worldly-yet-protective grandmother and determine whether he can sever the ties of lust and longing.

As an appreciator of sumptuous 19th century accouterments, I was definitely visually satisfied with the film.  (Except on one count[1].)  The costumes and settings are absolutely gorgeous, lending a bit of elegant beauty to a story that dwells on the carnality of base desire.  Nevertheless, The Last Mistress is not just eye candy; ultimately, it asks one of the Big Questions: is love ultimately fleeting and ephemeral?

[1] Asia Argento is currently sporting some terrifying breast implants, and boy do we get an eyeful of them. I don’t know about you, Constant Reader, but the sight of implants in a period piece instantly diffuses a great deal of the cinematic verisimilitude.

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