THE LAST DUEL. The truth doesn’t matter [REVIEW]

In The Last Duel, Jean de Carrouges (Matt Damon) knows exactly what he wants. To earn distinction on the battlefield for the glory of France and the glory of the young King Charles VI. To win, as his grandfather and father did before him, the prestigious title of captain with the sword. To marry a woman with a substantial dowry and expand his wealth. Love, he believes, should come with time. To father and raise an heir who will continue to spread the renown of the de Carrouges name. All of this, of course, in accordance with the word of God—the only proper ethical and moral source of knowledge. Carrouges is a thick-skinned, stubborn man, precise in word and gesture. A knight perhaps too stereotypical, but also a perfect child of his times. Shaped from the mud of battlefields, the blood of the homeland’s enemies, honor, and faith.

His friend and comrade-in-arms, Jacques Le Gris (Adam Driver), finds it far easier to lie and take shortcuts. Military promotions come to him more effectively through connections with the influential, slippery Count Pierre d’Alençon (Ben Affleck). Le Gris, fully aware of his personal charm, knows how to seduce and deceive with skill. He is utterly convinced that no man or woman will ever be able to refuse him anything. A womanizer and hedonist, yet also well-read and knowledgeable in algebra. He is the perfect debt collector for the Count.

Jean and Jacques represent two medieval knightly archetypes. Both would likely have gone their separate ways, not clashing with one another, were it not for Marguerite (Jodie Comer). She, by her father’s decision, takes the name de Carrouges, but later catches the eye—and becomes the obsession—of Jacques. A crime will be committed, and accounts must be settled. The letter of the law and the code of honor leave few options. The two men will have to face each other, and blood will have to be spilled. Welcome to 14th-century France.

Castles shrouded in mist, bloody executions, mud under horses’ hooves, medieval darkness, cold chambers, human decay, and broken bones. There is plenty of everything here.

This is an aesthetic in which Ridley Scott (Gladiator, Kingdom of Heaven, Robin Hood) feels more at home than almost anyone. In The Last Duel, the British director returns to a style he relishes, but this time the lead role belongs to a narrative game of concealing and revealing the truth. The screenplay by Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, and Nicole Holofcener is a story divided into three chapters. Each time it recounts the same events, but from the perspective of a different central character.

Do not expect sudden, drastic plot twists in the style of Asghar Farhadi’s cinema. Ridley Scott is not as sharp-edged, and he distributes the dramatic weight differently. In The Last Duel, it is about interpreting fleeting glances, words, and gestures, about filling in the story with conversations that precede and follow already familiar scenes. The outcome of the final duel remains uncertain until the very end, but the ambition of the filmmakers is above all to provide a thorough, multi-perspective outline of the entire context. To express fears and motivations, to expose lies and omissions.

The Last Duel is a story of despotic men and enslaved women, of the impunity of the former and the unjustified shame of the latter.

Of legitimized lawlessness and incurable trauma. Of truth stripped of meaning and a tragic deadlock when the conflict of “word against word” must be resolved by divine will. Only one man will leave the arena alive. Their duel is watched from a comfortable chair by a smiling king—for him, a welcome distraction from the monotony of ruling a country. In the stands, a cheering crowd follows every blow, missing not a single drop of blood. A little entertainment for a gloomy afternoon. Tomorrow they too may die on the scaffolds of Notre-Dame Cathedral. For the glory of God, the king, and France.