The Middle Ages, a vast period of cultural and intellectual bankruptcy. A thousand years of decline spent spilling blood in the soil over God, king, and country. The hoi polloi, excited by the rage of religious fervor, cheered for bread and circus and no circus promised more drama than a duel to the death. This is where we find ourselves at the start of Ridley Scott’s latest sword and sandal epic, The Last Duel, with two men, each believing God and the truth is by their side, equipping plates of armor and squeezing into chainmail, squires readying their steads, prepared to square off in an arena until one man claims the other’s last breath. All to prove that their truth is the truth. There’s no better way to prove veracity than by bloodletting – under God’s benevolent eye.

Game of Thrones watchers will no doubt recall the trial by combat wherein Tyrion elected the Red Viper to square off against the hulking Mountain as a last ditch effort to prove his innocence. It went…poorly. The Last Duel rewinds to a time in human history where clerics and noblemen alike deemed this an appropriate form of adjudication. Throughout the Middle Ages, trial by combat was a not-uncommon method of settling accusations between parties when no convincing witness could be drawn upon. In this instance, the unconvincing witness proves a blanket term that encompasses anyone with no Y chromosome.

Marguerite de Carrouges (Jodie Comer), blessed with fair temperament and countenance, finds herself that “unreliable” witness when she is raped. Where many before her offered silence, the bookish noblewoman makes the impossible decision to try to hold her rapist accountable. Trapped in the 1380’s, she has no recourse but to turn to her husband Sir Jean de Carrouges (Matt Damon, arguably miscast in the role) who wants nothing more than to face the rapist Jacques Le Gris (Adam Driver, offering a strong performance here), once a friend, then a fierce adversary, in trial by combat. The assault quickly becomes a question of dishonorable men’s honor; Marguerite’s pain a mere happenstance, an inconvenience. She is not immediately aware of the fact that her accusations pose deadly consequences, her life hanging in the balance of the duel, for if her husband were to lose, she would be burned alive, a cruelty the movie edifies us should take somewhere between 20 and 30 minutes.

Much like Rashomon before it, the great curiosity of The Last Duel is found in the way that it plays with the idea of truth. Broken into three accounts – that of Marguerite, Sir Jean, and Jacques Le Gris – we witness memories through variable eyes. Objective truth becomes a slippery notion, particularly in the first two chapters as told by Sir Jean and Le Gris, each framing their version of history with themselves as the unflappable protagonist.

Vanity seeps into their recollections, coloring their accounts with editorial flourishes about their kindness and bravery, in Jean de Carrouges’ case, or charm and intelligence, in Jacques Le Gris’ version. We know these memories to be heavily editorialized by the way that each man frames his side, always with himself as the hero of his story. Invariably, each man remembers themselves as a harbinger of justice, currying favor with , being the bigger man even whilst beseeched by the cruel and pointless pettiness of their once-friend. The script manages a good deal of playful moments where conversations are remembered not only slightly differently but completely opposite depending on whose perspective the film is replaying accounts from, each recalling the very best versions of themselves, and very worst of their opponent.

The overarching story remains the same: Carrouges and Le Gris once shared once the battlefield and merriment and considered each other close friends and allies. But as the later found political aspirations following a failed military campaign, currying favor with his orgy-buddy Count Pierre d’Alençon (Ben Affleck, perfectly smug and detestably sandy-haired), the former sought an heir to take up his respected surname. Their paths drift before ultimately coming to a head; an alliance turned bitter rivalry. Marguerite finds herself equally a bargaining chip and welcome womb for Carrouges’ aspirations, her father considered a traitor to the petulant French King Charles VI (played with childish glee by Alex Lawther) and her stature thereby diminished.

As was customary of the time, Marguerite is sold off with a dowery to Carrouges, who proves a hard man who thinks only of house and honor (though to hear him tell it, he is a most excellent husband and lover, the kind of noble knight of Arthurian lore). She’s trapped in his estate, tasked with procreation. A belle to his beast. To make matters worse, Marguerite catches the eye of Le Gris, who “falls” for her and believes himself in love. Terrible things happen.

Working from an impressive screenplay from Nicole Holofcener (Can You Ever Forgive Me?) and Damon and Affleck, the ‘#MeToo for the Middle Ages’ angle works as an interesting way to re-interrogate history. Though often a challenging watch, The Last Duel parries the accounts of vile men with that of Marguerite’s perspective, with Comer offering an introspective and commanding turn as the wronged woman whose version of the truth is the only that we are meant to trust. For so many years, women were considered property, their truth dismissed as gossip, their bodies used to farm male heirs. Scott’s film dissects this slice of ugly history by leaning into that which lies between two men’s biased version of facts: the truth of the women by their sides.

The explicit scenes of sexual assault found in The Last Duel prove uncomfortable, particularly as the rape in question is shown repeatedly to underscore the difference in perspective, but in doing so threaten somewhat to unspool the moral center of The Last Duel. Yes, we’re meant to interrupt both instances as an assault but the lighter tone of Le Gris’ version of events is colored with a distasteful playfulness. Those going into the film ought to be very aware that these scenes are brutal and unblinking. Arguably worse than the absolutely atrocious haircuts that just about everyone here – Driver’s luscious locks notwithstanding- sports. Veritas liberabit vos. The truth shall set you free. With truthfulness laying squarely at the center of The Last Duel, there is something freeing about reaching the third act and finally getting the unblemished truth but by the time we’re reached Marguerite’s accounting, Scott’s film can prove taxing by virtue of its difficult themes. Though an impossible film to “love”, there’s more than enough here to curry favor – from the impressive performances to the brutal, realistic combat, the clever screenplay, and the interesting framing of this challenging story. History teaches us time and again that truth is fragile and needs a delicate touch to come to the light and this is as true in 2021 as it was in 1986.

CONCLUSION: Ridley Scott’s latest medieval combat drama is relatively light on the swordplay and heavy on the politics and melodrama, cleverly telling the story of a noblewoman’s assault through three perspectives to try to arrive at some kind of objective truth. Challenging if at times a bit lumbering, ‘The Last Duel’ boasts strong performances and writing, proving a welcome return to the Middle Ages for the aging auteur.