Napoleon (2023)
Director: Ridley Scott
Screenwriter: David Scarpa
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Vanessa Kirby, Tahar Rahim, Rupert Everett, Paul Rhys
Nearly twenty-five years after Ridley Scott’s sweeping epic Gladiator reshaped the modern historical blockbuster and restored the director to awards-season prominence, Scott returns with Napoleon, a lavish, high-budget portrait of one of history’s most chronicled figures. With Joaquin Phoenix leading the cast as Napoleon Bonaparte, and Vanessa Kirby as his wife Josephine, the film aims to combine intimate character study with large-scale period spectacle. On a technical level, Napoleon often impresses: production design, costumes, and some individual set pieces achieve a striking visual grandeur. Yet despite these strengths, the film struggles to cohere into a compelling, thematic whole.
David Scarpa’s screenplay attempts to cover more than twenty-five years of a life that traversed European capitals, battlefields and exile. That breadth is both ambitious and problematic. The script tends to recite pivotal events in sequence—campaigns, political maneuvers, promotions and defeats—rather than interrogate their meaning. As a result, the movie moves from milestone to milestone in a data-like progression that leaves little emotional context for many of the choices and consequences it dramatizes.
Joaquin Phoenix commits fully to the role, delivering a performance that oscillates between magnetic intensity and inscrutability. He dominates the screen whenever present, shaping Napoleon into a forceful, animal-like presence: tense, watchful and always ready to spring. Phoenix’s portrayal offers countless visual and behavioral detail, but the film rarely capitalizes on those moments to probe deeper psychological or ideological layers. Likewise, Vanessa Kirby brings an enigmatic, captivating quality to Josephine, making her both muse and mystery. Their relationship is presented as the emotional axis of the story, yet the film underexplores the complexity of that union—its passions, compromises and political consequences—so it never fully convinces as the true engine behind Napoleon’s ambition or downfall.
Cinematically, the film offers many pleasures. The costume design by David Crossman and Janty Yates is meticulous and often breathtaking; uniforms, gowns and everyday garments feel distinct and richly detailed, deserving of attention on the largest screen. Arthur Max’s production design supplies numerous tableaux that evoke the grandeur of period paintings, especially during court and party sequences. Ridley Scott’s command of composition remains a major asset: certain scenes—battles, processions, and quiet, atmospheric moments—are shot with an assured visual sensibility that recalls his best work.
Dariusz Wolski’s cinematography captures light and weather—cold mist, winter sun, and nocturnal clarity—creating a tactile sense of place. Some sequences, such as the depiction of the Moscow campaign, stand out as memorable cinematic achievements. However, technical shortcomings mar other portions: noticeably artificial crowd effects, occasionally unconvincing CGI horses, and a color palette that sometimes sinks into an overly grey, washed-out look. These inconsistencies affect immersion and may be more apparent on smaller screens or in home viewing conditions.
Scott has argued in interviews that his films do not require strict historical accuracy, prioritizing thematic truth over literal fact. That latitude can work when a film uses myth or character to reveal larger truths, as Gladiator once did. But Napoleon rarely substitutes evocative myth for insight; instead, it often presents events as if lifted from a history book, only intermittently deepening them. When the movie does aim for emotional or thematic resonance, it frequently settles for fleeting suggestion rather than sustained development. Scenes that should reveal the moral cost, the human toll of conquest, or the contradictions of power remain underexplored.
Despite its flaws, Napoleon contains many individual elements worth praising. The performances—especially Phoenix’s committed, sometimes electrifying lead—support moments of genuine drama. Costume and production design enrich the film’s texture, and several sequences achieve visual grandeur worthy of reflection. Yet these parts rarely fuse into a focused argument or lasting impression. The result is a film that feels uneven: at times powerful and cinematic, at others detached and schematic. It aspires to be epic and intimate at once but ultimately falls short of becoming either definitively.
Score: 15/24
Recommended reading: Ridley Scott Films Ranked (a critical overview of Scott’s career and key works).