Anyone who reads my other blog knows I'm a big fan of history, particularly women's history. So when I heard there was a show at the Fringe about the life of Madame de Pompadour, the mistress of France's Louis XV, my immediate reaction was, "I'm so there!" Really, how perfect is that? I even dragged my husband along. We settled down, anticipating a good show.
And dear god, but were we sorely disappointed. I was foolishly expecting a semi-nuanced portrait of a woman who managed to rise from the middle classes to the height of power in mid-18th century France (not an easy feat, by any means), but instead we were presented with a giddy, shallow, and utterly stupid creature that must have the real Pompadour spinning in her grave. Poor lady. She skips about the stage, babbling about portraits and palaces, pausing for about two seconds to mourn the death of her supposedly beloved daughter, and then perking back up and talking about a new dress. Oh, and apparently the woman who helped run the Seven Years' War didn't even know where Canada was. Yes, Canada, one of the larges and most economically important French colonies. Sheesh. I actually hope that Pompadour will be remembered -- she was, after all, a highly intelligent and remarkable woman, but I hope she won't be remembered for this hot mess. Read the full review here.
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