I looked forward to seeing this VERY MUCH, but when it was over ........ I wondered exactly what I had seen - story-wise. It felt empty.

Seems that I don't know much more about Joseph Bologne (Chevalier) than I did prior to watching this. And I feel cheated - because here is an historical character that has to have one hella story! And not just what I saw in a couple of hours however beautifully shot it was. :(

You had bad guy (he's ALWAYS the bad guy) Marton Csokas as Marquis De Montalembert. Say that fast three times and you have your 600 characters. I like Marton Csokas, but it seems to me that he tries to be Ray Stevenson who played Titus Pullo in Rome - someone we loved. He's the same bad guy all the time, just in different clothing. Literally.

Minnie Driver was BRILLIANT as the bad guy female. What a treat!

But this wasn't about Minnie Driver.

And I still do NOT know what Chevalier was really all about.

I felt cheated. There was so much more to this man and his story - and this movie didn't give me even a hint of it!!

Am in hopes someone makes a mini-series about him! Two hours is not long enough!

Imagine a prime time soap opera with 18th Century French period piece trappings, and you've pretty much got the gist of this fact-based (and loosely so, I understand), underwhelming offering from filmmaker Stephen Williams, a director best known for his acclaimed cable TV series work (which is probably why this release feels so much more like a television piece than a movie). The picture presents the biography of Joseph Bologne (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), the Chevalier de Saint-Georges, an acclaimed multiracial violinist and composer who rose through the social ranks to attain a celebrated place in the court of Marie Antoinette (Lucy Boynton) in pre-revolutionary France. But, rather than focusing on Bologne's accomplishments (many of which have been lost over time but are allegedly traceable), the film instead tells the scandalous (for the time) tale of a failed interracial romance and its fallout, a story that deeply affected him personally and changed the artist into an advocate for society's downtrodden (noble ambitions that, regrettably, receive short shrift in the film). While all of this should provide the makings of a captivating watch, much of it falls dreadfully flat - a collection of pretty images populated with arrogant, elegant aristocrats casting knowing glances and wry smiles but not providing significant fodder for viewer engagement. Such blandness even spills over into the performances, like that of protagonist Harrison, an actor whose work I generally admire but who comes across here to be about as interesting as a bowl of lukewarm porridge. To me, it seems like so much more could have been done with this story, but what comes from it here is stunningly uninteresting and uninvolving, a disappointment given that Bologne deserves better than this.

Apparently, one of the (main?) drivers of the French Revolution was racial equity. Who knew? This is a new Hollywood trend: you transpose current (broadly accepted) societal views into different geographies, cultures and historical periods, basically to prove that they always were eternal. Women Talking, The Woman King are two recent examples of this trend. Art has always been used to convey the ideas of its time, and there's really nothing wrong with it. Except when you pretend that what you're depicting is historically accurate, in which case it becomes revisionism or cultural imperialism. As a violinist and a person who lived in Paris for four years, the cultural imperialism in this film may upset me a bit more than most. But I could actually go with it if the movie were good. But it's not.

The story is actually amazing. Imagine: a black violinist and composer in 18th century France. A man of color who was a contender to become head of the Paris Opera under Louis XVI, and who then became a leader in the French Revolution. One can only dream of what this film could have been in the hands of Spike Lee, Jordan Peele or even better Ladj Ly. It could (should) have been an exploration of the character, his motivations, what it was like to be a person of color in the court of Louis XVI, how he truly embraced revolutionary values and how they reflected on his own condition. What do we get instead from Stephen Williams? An attempt to remake Amadeus with a black character. The plagiarism is so overt that many times you feel as if you were watching segments of Amadeus again, with a few dashes of Kubrick's Barry Lindon here and there. Except that Williams is no Milos Forman and no Stanley Kubrick. His film, weighed down by its narrow program of easy answers we all knew before going into the theatre, is dull and empty, and the characters, without the freedom to exist in their own right, increasingly feel like figures at a wax museum.

One can only hope that a real filmmaker will retake this story and turn it into the film of relevance that it should be.