The Dark Ages -- and very dark indeed, not just in illumination but in literal deed: eating without utensils, nose-blowing without hanky, a newborn babe abandoned in the snow, the hemorrhaging mother ravished in the castle dungeon, a little incest, a little patricide, a little Christian immolation. This sort of thing might come as a revelation to those who've not seen any screen depictions of the Middle Ages since around Prince Valiant and The Black Shield of Falworth. But in truth it has become pretty much the norm, and, when there's no swordplay (of even the clumsiest type) to partly enliven it, when instead it's served as a thick, raw, gristly slice of life (with a flagon of Sophoclean blood to wash it down), it's pretty much a bore as well. Director Bertrand Tavernier has "dedicated" the work to his ami, Riccardo Freda, an Italian master of sword-and-sandal epics (among other things) in the Fifties and Sixties. Whether or not the dedicatee deserved anything better by way of tribute, he deserved something different. With Julie Delpy and Bernard-Pierre Donnadieu. (1988) — Duncan Shepherd