By the early years of the nineteenth century, champagne was becoming the celebratory drink across the royal courts and aristocratic society of Europe. Not only that, but it was during this period that two important developments were made in the champagne making process: in 1815, ridding the bottles of the dead yeast that came with the fermentation process was solved through the process of riddling, and in 1818, the first known pink champagne was created by blending both white and red grapes. All three of these things were down to one woman, Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin-Clicquot, the Widow Clicquot who gave her name to one of the most recognisable champagne houses in the world (Veuve being the French for “widow”) and the subject of Thomas Napper’s 2023 biopic.
The film opens with the funeral of the young widow’s husband, with many of her fellow mourners being of rival champagne houses. Jean-Remy Moët (Nicholas Farrell) tells Madame Clicquot (Haley Bennett) that he will walk amongst the vines to remember her husband: she watches from the window as her father-in-law, Philippe Clicquot (Ben Miles), appears to be selling the land and vines to the highest bidder. As we learn in a dual timeline, split between Barbe-Nicole’s life as a widow and her marriage with her husband François (Tom Sturridge), the vines were his pride and joy, and thus a project and business the two of them, plus their daughter Clementine, wanted to champion together.
Madame Clicquot was only twenty-seven when François died; his cause of death has been listed historically as either typhoid, or potentially suicide. Though this film does not make an explicit judgement either way, Widow Clicquot does use the vignettes showing Barbe-Nicole and François’s marriage to explore his mental health. Perhaps it is easy to suggest that François appears a tortured, Byronic romantic hero simply because of the period and the fact that Tom Sturridge has also played Byron in the Mary Shelley biopic, but that is how he appears. Driven to distraction both by his love for Barbe-Nicole and his adoration for his vines, referring to his wife as Émilie in the manner of his hero Voltaire and his intellectual and romantic partner Émilie de Châtelet, he shows episodes of madness and frustration throughout. These parts of the film show Barbe-Nicole’s strong, measured character, and highlight her love of him and the business they are part of.
Out of respect for her husband’s love of the vines, Barbe-Nicole makes the case to her father-in-law, who wishes to liquidate the business (even at the funeral), that she might take over. She has, after all, worked alongside François every step of the way and, although the movie does not make this clear, the real Barbe-Nicole was born into a world of business as the daughter of a successful textile merchant. Her marriage to François had been arranged by their fathers to solidify their business interests. Philippe agrees to give her a year as a trial before he sells, and Barbe-Nicole sets forth trying to make a success of the business.
As a widow, Barbe-Nicole had more options open to her than most women of her day. Single women and married women could not own businesses, particularly under the enforcement of the Napoleonic Code. The shock is evident that a woman might run a business in the faces of all the men surrounding Barbe-Nicole and her father-in-law, but he permits her to do so. Her right-hand man becomes Louis Bohne (Sam Riley), an agent who was very close to François (there being more to the two men’s relationship is hinted at on more than one occasion), who assists her in her scheme to circumvent trade blockades to capitalise on Russian markets.
Where this film does shine is in contrasting the frustrations of a struggling business with the genius of a businesswoman who trusts her own instincts. Barbe-Nicole was a brilliant and lively businesswoman who ended her long life at the magnificent Château de Boursault, the château she had built and spent her retirement in. Bennett shines in these moments, with suggestions of romance enlivening a highly stoic characterisation, also enlivened by the inclusion of the production process of Veuve Clicquot’s famous comet vintage. It seems on screen like this happens reasonably quickly, when in reality almost a decade passes between her husband’s death and this, as well as their success smuggling champagne out to Russia.
Widow Clicquot is an aesthetically stunning production, but it has to be said that sometimes this contracted pacing of the story dulls the impact of Barbe-Nicole’s incredible highs and devastating lows. It is a great origin tale, and audiences will want to root for this quietly strong widow who defies the expectations and conventions of her era, but it does sometimes feel a little uneven. Barbe-Nicole Ponsardin Clicquot is formidable, and the film sort of highlights this, but it might still have you reaching for her biography upon completion to discover more about her.