Patrice Chéreau's impeccably played drama of dynastic dysfunction is as complex and intense as his earlier study of passion, patronage and powerbroking, **La Reine Margot **. Shot within the claustrophobic confines of a train, the hectic opening segment sees friends, family and lovers travelling to Limoges for the funeral of a bisexual bastard of a painter (Trintignant), whose true talent lay in manipulating those around him, among them a gay critic (Greggory), and a feuding couple (Charles Berling and Tadeschi) destroyed by drugs and jealousies.
It's high costume drama rendered in modern idiom by a crueller version of Douglas Sirk, with ideas on love, life and art jostling with squabbles, revelations and recriminations. Technically acute, dramatically dense, utterly compelling.