I expected Sophia Coppola's Marie Antoinette to be post-modern. I was prepared for its new wave soundtrack. What I didn't expect though happens about half-way into the film, in which the young dauphin hosts an extravagant dinner party that starts with off-color jokes, proceeds into trading insults, and ends with the passing of some variation of wacky-tobaccy. There was something awfully familiar about this scene, as if I had actually been there in the royal French court.
And that's when it dawned on me.
This movie isn't about Marie Antoinette. It's about your Freshman Year of College.
Gorging on sweets, smoking pot, staying up all night, lusting after the royalty of other nations, let alone all set to New Order and The Cure. Sounds like Freshman year to me.
Honestly, the movie couldn't have been more fantastically post-modern if Jason Schwartzman sucked down a slurpee before being marched off to his beheading.
