Grade: D-

Two weeks ago, I took a chance on an underseen, lowest-of-the-low-budget movie called August at Twenty-Two. It didn’t suck too much. After seeing Napoleon, I almost want to reach out to someone in A@22’s cast and tell them I liked their movie better than a Ridley Scott biopic starring Joaquin Phoenix. Napoleon is a worthless, worthless movie – the kind that might reduce a writer to using the same adjective twice in a row. You’d have to be a pretty huge history buff, otherwise there’s not a shred of reason to see it, especially when The Holdovers, Saltburn, and Wish are still showing.
The film holds us at arm’s length from everything and everybody for 2 hours and 37 minutes. Most everyone sleepwalks through their roles. They’re so joyless. So passionless. So downtrodden. In a largely lifeless cast, Paul Rhys (who was so excellent and memorable in Saltburn) comes the closest to injecting any personality.
Director Ridley Scott (Gladiator, Black Hawk Down, Blade Runner) can still stage a great battle scene, but everything that comes in between is as bland and perfunctory as the activities in the bedroom of Napoleon and Mrs. Bonaparte’s marriage of convenience. Joaquin Phoenix is usually great, and Vanessa Kirby (The Son, Pieces of a Woman, and the last couple Mission: Impossible films) is one of my favorite actresses working today, but they are on Valium here. I realize I’ve said little to nothing about the plot, but what does it matter? It’s a biopic about Napoleon Bonaparte. You’re caught up now. I’m putting as much into writing this as I feel the movie gave me. My favorite Napoleon remains the one who enjoys tater tots and votes for Pedro.
The post-movie captions inform us that Napoleon led 61 battles. When a few of them started to get individually listed on the screen, slowly and piecemeal, I got scared they were going to go through all 61. Napoleon is bloated, flat, and one of the worst movies of the year. Turn on the fan or light a match when you’re done watching it.
Grade: D-
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