Bertrand Tavernier’s The Princess of Montpensier is a swooning, high-romantic affair. It plays, at times, like a western, a love story unfolding amidst wild, chaotic times that in part forged a country’s sense of itself and its ideals. In this historical world, castles are like islands floating on a sea of lawlessness, and despite the high regal style and ritual that nearly suffocates all aspects of life, the threat of the wild — bandits, disease, armies on the march — orbit around civilized moons.

One of the chunks of space debris flung from the delicate balance of this social order is Marie, a noble girl in love with the dashing war hero Henri de Guise (Gaspard Ulliel), but her jellyfish father bends under the pressure of the Duke of Montpensier to revoke his promise of marriage to de Guise and instead marry off Marie to the prince of Montpensier. It is a heartbreaking twist of fate, but one which Marie at first accepts with reluctance. From the early scene in which ladies of the court observe the consummation of the marriage, bringing the blood-stained sheets to the patriarchs of the newly joined families, who sit outside the bridal chamber passing the time with a game of chess, we can see the mechanistic role the lives of woman play in this world. Romance, love, individual freedom, and desire have no place in a society where ritualized rape is a cornerstone of preserving law and order.

As a portrait of a historical period, The Princess of Montepensier offers an honest, if occasionally harrowing, milieu. Director Bertrand Tavernier doesn’t wave his arms in outright disgust at the ways and means of this world during the long Catholic/Protestant wars that tore apart the country.  Instead he takes care to explore how the qualities of resilience, a yearning for self-determination, and the ability to love, bubble to the surface in this foreign context.

Resigning herself to a loveless marriage, yet opening her heart, at first, to the possibility of affection from her husband, the princess spends her days as a pupil of the prince’s former tutor, Comte de Chabannes (Lambert Wilson). Chabannes is war-weary, having fought for the Catholics, defected to the Protestants, and finally deserting the campaign altogether after he kills a pregnant woman in an early scene. His pacificism is rooted in his inability to understand how an act could be done in the name of God.

We see he is the character with which our modern sensibilities will feel most at home, and he emerges as the movie’s romantic hero. The teacher and student engage in a soul-awakening relationship, and Chabannes falls for the beautiful princess, even as her husband’s jealousy and callous attitude towards his wife rekindles her affections for the long-haired Henri de Guise. To complicate things, the heir to the French throne falls for Marie as well, setting the stage for a romantic power play that brilliantly twists political, social, and romantic intrigues into a deeply moving story that unfolds with high suspense.