The Death of Louis XIV

A masterpiece. Admittedly, callow viewers may have difficulty getting past the cumulously bewigged Jean-Pierre Léaud’s uncanny resemblance to Phil Spector, circa 2008.

The Death of Louis XIV may be Serra’s clearest film in terms of formal patterns and his most mysterious in actual meaning. It depends on who you ask; to this writer, that’s a good thing.

The painterly camerawork shows the sheer sophistication possible these days with digital technology. The only conventional note in a highly distinctive film touched with wry humour is the too-safe choice of a Mozart music cue.

It is the attention to detail and the refusal to compromise that allows Serra to create such a compelling, coherent vision.

Delicately balanced between grandeur and absurdity, Serra's film maintains this tricky equilibrium largely thanks to the icon whose face fills the screen.

Jean-Pierre Léaud effortlessly summons up the iron ruler inside the failing man.

The period atmosphere isn't alive with bold ideas as much as decay.