La reine Margot (and memories of French history class)

Just finished Patrice Chéreau's La reine Margot and enjoyed it immensely - well, certainly more than the confused Roger Ebert at least, who was, in his words, "at sea". My own relish, I suspect, was no doubt á grace my intensive study of the French Wars of Religion for both A and S-level History in junior college. I remember that topic with a great deal of fondness - it was a hilarious class - every character seemed to be called either Henry or Francis. Catherine de Medici herself had two of her own sons called Francis - now, I ask you, what kind of mother in her right mind would give two sons the same name (hey, but then we're talking about Catherine de Medici right). And then there was Henry of Anjou, another one of Catherine's sons, who later became Henry III and then, when he was deposed by the Duke of Guise (who was (guess!) called Henry too), rode off to join Henry of Navarre, who (I just found out) was Catherine's son-in-law, having married her daughter Margot (played in Chéreau's film by the utterly luminous, utterly ethereal, utterly captivating Isabelle Adjani - her beauty is simply out of this world - I digress...) - so at some point in the wars we actually had two Henrys plotting together to seize power back from Henry. It was a beautiful mess, and to be honest I only got it all straightened out days before my exam (at one point I swear I thought there were 4 Henrys in the whole saga - Henry III, Henry of Anjou, Henry of Navarre and Henry IV) but oh, how I loved it. I wrote constantly, I wrote passionately, about the French Wars of Religion - I seized every question I could find.

A couple of months ago, we passed through Pau while driving through the Pyrenees in the South of France. And what do you know, the château of Pau was originally the residence of the monarchs of Navarre and also where Henry of Navarre (aka Henry IV) was born. I walked in and around the château, feeling distinctly weird, feeling something had somehow come full circle. I've always unabashedly held that my education throughout my life had been a complete waste of time - a whole series of dull, monotonous, useless exams one after another, culminating in law school (to this conclusion save, of course, 16th century France. And 17th century Netherlands, another hilarious class, even if the Spanish were absolutely brutal to the Dutch. And every Literature class I ever took (other than Shakespeare, who remains overrated). And Criminal Jurisprudence and Civil Law. And, obviously, all my postgraduate education to date.)

Roger Ebert begins his review with this line: "When I saw "Queen Margot" for the first time in May 1994 at the Cannes Film Festival, it was like looking at the home movies of complete strangers - in this case, the French."

When I saw La reine Margot for the first time, it was like a reunion, meeting up, seeing old friends - in this case, the French. And remembering, as is what memories do, that there were a few parts of my life before 2001 which were actually worthwhile.