It is a French story, obviously, but an international production, directed by Brit Thomas Napper and starring the American Haley Bennett in the title role. Its inspiration is the real life of Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin Clicquot, whose husband François (Tom Sturridge, seen vividly in flashbacks) dies when Barbe is only in her twenties. She is nevertheless determined to keep control of François’ wine-making concern. This being the 18th century, moving into the 19th, we get a lot of “well that’s just not done” from tut-tutting males, including the folks at Moet, who want to butt Barbe out. François’ father Phillipe (Ben Miles) is a little queasy about this. But Barbe insists that not only can she do the job, but she’s also the only person who really understands the job. Why do we create, Barbe asks in voiceover at the movie’s beginning. “We” being humanity. Her answer is “it is so that we might uncover the secrets of ourselves.” You can only make champagne in the Champagne regions of France, but making it is, indeed, an act of creation. While the movie initially offers little beyond the dreamy foofaraw too often used to describe “creative process,” it eventually does pay attention to the practical aspects of winemaking, which in the case of Barbe and François, can have decidedly eccentric, or considered-by-the-squares-to-be-eccentric, components, like talking to the vines.
Bennett is better than decent in the title role; her characterization grows deeper as she seeks out love in the midst of her work struggle. Her business gets a boost due to the Champagne mania that seizes Russia during the Napoleonic Wars. But she’s also chained to the past, and one of the more interesting features of the picture is how François is depicted as the film’s flashbacks continue: at first he’s erudite, charming, idiosyncratic; increasingly, he’s temperamental and maybe a little nuts. Barbe tries to honor his ambition while coming to terms with having been pinned under her husband’s irrational thumb. The movie itself doesn’t capitalize on this intriguing dynamic as much as it might have, and despite various unusual touches, including a music score by The National’s Bryce Dessner, not necessarily the first guy you’d tap to do a period picture, “Widow Clicquot” ultimately resolves as a conventional portrayal of a woman’s determination. It would be reductive to call it a “girlboss” story, but it wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate to, either.
