It's the kind of star vehicle Keira Knightley thrives on, but that doesn't make it any less fabulous.
Knightley plays Colette, the titular novelist whose narrative voice frames the film. She introduces the story of a woman whose artistic passions and worldly proclivities have long been denied -- herself. Married off at a young age to influential Parisian writer "Willy", played by Dominic West, she quickly becomes acclimated to bohemian city life where she begins to experiment in writing and in love-making. That is, knowing her philandering husband is on the town and making money off the books she writes (as we know, women couldn't possibly have had their own names published), she decides to name quite a different kind of name for herself.
Colette is the kind of absorbing costume drama we all love, even those of you who say you don't. It's nearly impossible to resist the vibrant colors, exotic accents, erotic play of propriety, and stringed score. Even without the trappings so meticulously detailed, the story itself is intoxicating. This is exactly the kind of wonderfully feminist, queer, and artistic story that will never really get old. Colette's finding herself is our finding ourselves.
We've seen the story before, of course, and we will again. Thankfully, however, like Big Eyes and other recent examples, this film has a joyous ending. Despite its melancholic tribulations typical of any plot, here we have a queer woman who empowers herself absolutely, almost never wavering, and rises victorious above the greedy, stupid men who seek to suck her gifts and abilities dry. Taken in its entirety, Colette is a sumptuous feast for the senses, the intellect, and of course the heart. There's no disdain on my part. This is a great flick.
IMDb: Colette
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