I'm not going to remember Louis's grunts and moans as he lies in bed, attended by far too many doctors to be of any use. No, I will remember the disputes--polite but still angry--between the doctors, sometimes involving a faith healer who has been called in, God knows why, to administer some foul elixir to Louis. The joke is that the doctors know hardly more than the quack about how to treat the sick. An inessential film, but it was good to see Leaud again.
Review of The Death of Louis XIV
