CHEVALIER feature movie review 

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• Searchlight Pictures

In the opening sequence of Chevalier, a concert at a Paris opera house takes a pause so that the conductor can introduce himself—as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Joseph Prowen). Striking a cocky pose and inviting audience members to toss him requests, Mozart receives a response from a Black man, dressed in finery and sporting the powdered wig of the era's aristocratic class. Abruptly, he and Mozart are engaged in a kind of violin battle, with the interloper so frustrating the legendary composer that he storms off the stage, wondering aloud who has shown him up in such a manner.

The answer: He is Joseph Bologne, Chevaliler de Saint-Georges (Kelvin Harrison Jr.). And as to whether such an encounter ever happened in real life, I neither know nor care. There's a kind of cinematic biography that is concerned primarily with relentless fidelity, and then there's a kind that seems concerned primarily with being an entertaining movie. Chevalier does the job of introducing an actual historical figure whose work is not widely known, but it does so while focusing on telling a satisfying story.

We get just enough of Bologne's back-story—the illegitimate son of a colonial landowner and an enslaved woman, Nanon (Ronke Adekoluejo), brought to 1750s Paris by his father as a child to study music. There, as a "mulatto" among the well-born French, he encounters the expected racism and rejection, until he becomes a favorite of Queen Marie Antoinette (Lucy Boynton), and is given his title of chevalier. In time, his growing renown presents the opportunity to compete for the prestigious role of director of the Paris Opera.

The events surrounding that competition provide the narrative centerpiece, as Bologne becomes infatuated with amateur singer Marie-Josephine (Samara Weaving) and casts her as the lead in his opera, unbeknownst to her jealous, military-veteran husband (Marton Csokas). An affair ensues, and director Stephen Williams—a veteran of episodic TV including Watchmen and The Walking Dead, making his feature debut—allows us to luxuriate in not just the fancy circles in which Bologne travels, but two attractive people, discreetly intertwined. Even as the story dips into messier thematic territory, Chevalier never forgets to give us lovely things to look at.

That messy thematic territory provides some meat on the movie's bones, and generally does so with success. Screenwriter Stefani Robinson (Atlanta) makes use of this story's setting in the run-up to the French Revolution, recognizing the reality that the "egalité" part of the reformers' slogan didn't necessarily apply in the same way to Black men, or to women.

That idea gets a bit awkwardly literal as Bologne and Marie-Josephine engage in an argument that amounts to "which of us is more oppressed," further complicated when Bologne is reunited with his mother after she is freed upon the death of his father. As a tale of non-white people who think they can be accepted into privileged society if they just play by the right rules, it's a bit unsteady, but generally engaging.

That's largely because Harrison provides a charismatic center point in the leading role, conveying an arrogance of talent that keeps colliding with those—like the opera diva (Minnie Driver) who retaliates when Bologne refuses her amorous advances—who are determined to remind him of his proper place. His uncertainty regarding which side to ally himself with in the debate over the future of France's governance, and even the vague sense of embarrassment he exudes over being reminded of his descent from an enslaved woman, make for a juicy character for an actor to bite into, and Harrison is more than up to the task.

It's fair to say, though, that Chevalier works because it can approach all of these potentially thorny issues without ever once feeling like a lecture. Keeping the story narrowly focused on one part of Bologne's life—rather than choosing a cradle-to-grave arc that would have included his eventual role as a soldier himself—shows a keen sense for crowd-pleasing rather than hitting historical bullet points. The climax involves the question of whether Bologne will defy the queen and play a concert for the benefit of rebels, and it's the perfect way to build towards a rousing finish.

Apparently, that concert actually happened—but even if it hadn't, I wouldn't fault a screenwriter for creating it as a great way to end a movie.