Producers: Christina Weiss Lurie, Haley Bennett and Joe Wright Director: Thomas Napper Screenplay: Erin Dignam Cast: Haley Bennett, Tom Sturridge, Sam Riley, Ben Miles, Anson Boon, Natasha O’Keeffe, Leo Suter, Cecily Cleeve, Paul Rhys, Ian Conningham, Christopher Villers, Cara Seymour, Phoebe Nicholls, Nick Farrell, Chris Larkin and Mark Tandy Distributor: Vertical
Grade: B
When Lerner & Loewe wrote “The Night They Invented Champagne” for “Gigi,” they came up with a song that was bubbly and effervescent, like the wine itself. One might surmise that a film about Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin Clicquot (1777-1866), the woman who revolutionized the process for producing and marketing Champagne and made the house she inherited—Veuve Clicquot—a major player in the business might be equally lighthearted and breezy.
But “Widow Clicquot,” directed by Thomas Napper from a screenplay by Erin Dignam based on Tilar J. Mazzeo’s 2008 book “The Widow Clicquot: The Story of a Champagne Empire and the Woman Who Ruled It,” hardly meets that expectation. It’s a surprisingly somber story about a woman who struggled to make her way in a man’s world and succeeded brilliantly despite all the obstacles placed in her way—culminating in a court action to remove her from control of the business she had so assiduously built. Her life, in other words, is depicted as a prototype in the battle for women’s liberation from an overbearing patriarchy.
Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin Clicquot was born in 1777, the daughter of a Reims textile manufacturer. In 1798 her father Nicolas, as part of an agreement to merge operations with that of another textile magnate, Philippe Clicquot, arranged her marriage to Philippe’s son François. Philippe also owned a vineyard, direction of which he turned over to his son in 1801. François shared his enthusiasm for winemaking with Barbe-Nicole, and when he died in 1805, she inherited the vineyard.
The film begins with the death of François (Tom Sturridge), and the grief felt by Barbe-Nicole (Haley Bennett), their young daughter Clementine (Cecily Cleeve), and Philippe (Ben Miles) over his sudden loss. But in this telling François does not disappear from the narrative; frequent flashbacks recount the passionate marital bliss of the couple, emphasizing how she came to share his dreams for the vineyard, but also recounting his mental deterioration—including accidental mistreatment of Clementine—as his hopes were repeatedly dashed.
That explains her rejection of Philippe’s suggestion that the vineyard be sold. Instead she becomes as attentive to the vines he was—taking up his practice of not only walking among them but speaking and singing to them—and eagerly accepts the offer of help from his merchant friend Louis Bohne (Sam Riley), whose schemes for selling her wine include stratagems to get around Napoleon’s economic blockade against his foes, mostly notably to imperial Russia. Even Edouard Werle (Anson Boom), the clerk Philippe sent to convince the widow of the vineyard’s precarious financial situation, was eventually won over to her side.
Moreover, Barbe-Nicole was instrumental in developing production techniques that, while unsuccessful in eliminating the bubbles that were thought imperfections in the wine, made it even more attractive, especially to the aristocracy in Russia and elsewhere. These included techniques of ridding (removing the sediment from the bottles) and dosing (determining preferred sugar levels), as well as marketing vintage Champagne by year of production.
All of this is covered, though rather elliptically, by Dignam and Napper, who show greater concern with those flashbacks to François and the widow’s growing dependence on, and familiarity with, Bohne. In fact, it’s her relationship with the latter that serves as the crux for the film’s climax, in which Clicquot is charged with skirting the Code Napoleon, which prohibited women from owning and operating businesses except when they had inherited them from their deceased husbands. The house’s steward Droite (Paul Rhys) testifies that her management has created financial instability, but Werle disputes this. Of greater moment is the allegation that Barbe-Nicole’s failure to remarry was dictated by her determination to take advantage of that exception; only her reaction to Bohne’s intervention settles the matter.
There the film ends, with the triumph of the widow Clicquot over the efforts of the male establishment to rob her of her business and her dreams. The rest of the story of how the house of Veuve Clicquot flourished through her death in 1866, and long afterward, is related only in closing captions.
Thus the film tells the widow Clicquot’s story in a fashion that, given that product in question is sparkling wine, may seem entirely too sober; but of course its real subject is the emergence of female entrepreneurship in an era that stifled it, and the theme comes across well. That’s due not only to Dignam’s script and Napper’s direction, but also to the performances, particularly that of Bennett, who radiates determination, maintaining—except for her scenes with the emotional François of Sturridge and the rambunctious Clementine of Cleeve—a placidly steely resolve. Boon and Miles offer solid support, but it’s Riley’s suavely supportive Bohne who’s the most notable male presence in her post-marital circle.
The lushness of the Champagne countryside is elegantly caught in Caroline Champetier’s darkly lyrical cinematography, while the production design of Jean-Hughes de Chatillon and the costumes by Marie Frémont evoke the period with care; Richard Marizy’s editing complements Napper’s measured pacing. Bryce Essner’s frequently violent string score, occasionally enhanced by wordless contributions from a female chorus, accentuates the struggle going on beneath the surface.
“Widow Clicquot” is in one sense an advertisement for the eponymous winery, but it’s more a recognition of the triumph of the house’s real founder over the stultifying social and legal forces arrayed against her.