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Part of the confusion is surely due to Besson's decision to shoot almost the entire movie -- dialogue scenes as well as battle scenes -- in close-up. The actors are so close to the lens they appear to be looming over the first 20 rows of the theater. That is, I'm sure, no sin to such practiced scenery chewers as John Malkovich (the blandest of scenery chewers) as Charles VII, the dauphin Joan fights to make king, looking as if God's will were a distraction from the important business of cleaning his fingernails; Faye Dunaway, as Charles' mother-in-law Yolande, wearing what appears to be a large brioche on her head; or Dustin Hoffman, in black cloak, beard and a tone that might be described as stentorian Yiddish, in a role credited as "Joan's Conscience," perhaps because the filmmakers were embarrassed to list him as what he's playing: "God." A pity Hoffman felt no embarrassment about taking the part.

Jovovich's face seems all mismatches -- a long, slender nose, full lips, high cheekbones -- that combine to make a stunning whole. She's a ravishing camera subject, and with her cropped hair and armor, and those intense green eyes, she's a captivating image of Joan. But this role is a killer, demanding almost impossible (and contradictory) reserves of strength, delicacy and fervor that have to remain clear-headed, and suffering that cannot be self-righteous. It's no shame to Jovovich to say she's not up to it. And it's hard to lay much of the blame on her when Besson, who appears to regard guiding actors as the least of his chores, has directed her to keep her eyes and nostrils flaring for the entire performance. She seems so petrified that at first she can barely get out her lines; it's simply impossible to imagine this girl inspiring the type of confidence soldiers need to go into battle.

Besson hasn't helped Jovovich by suggesting that Joan betrayed God by killing in order to free France. If you're not comfortable with making a film about the glory of war, you should probably stay away from the story of Joan of Arc (although there is no historical record of Joan killing anyone, and there are many accounts of her sparing the lives of prisoners). This sop to contemporary sensibilities makes nonsense of both Joan's motivation and her devoutness -- her willingness to do what God required of her.

Besson is quoted in the press material as saying, "If she wanted to be a good Christian, a good person ... even if her motivation was good, to have her country free, it was wrong to participate in the massacres. Thou shalt not kill -- that's a commandment." How dare Besson get on his moral high horse when he's the one who's reveled in the gore and bloodshed of battle for two hours and 21 minutes; after inventing the brutal rape-murder of Joan's sister; and, when the story stopped providing battle sequences, tossing in a scene of Joan being kicked bloody by her guards? He may not be the first of Joan's judges, but he is by far the most lame-brained.

Luckily, we don't have to settle for Besson's version. "Jeanne la Pucelle (Joan the Maid)," the legendary French director Jacques Rivette's two-part 1994 film, has finally been released in this country on video in the version Rivette himself prepared for the film's British release. (It runs just under four hours; the French version runs just under six.)

There's always a risk of appearing snobbish when you use an art-house film to berate a big commercial release. And, speaking realistically, "Jeanne la Pucelle" is not a film that you can imagine ever attracting a large audience. It's long, demanding, austere and far, far from flawless. But Rivette, one of the Cahiers du Cinema critics who spearheaded the French New Wave, is also a giant among living filmmakers. And I can't help feeling that there's something a little obscene when a director of his stature makes an epic film that doesn't get even a small American release, while an utterly meretricious film on the same subject gets international distribution by virtue of its being partly funded by an American studio and cast with American stars. After watching Besson bungle scene after scene, the unadorned way in which Rivette handled the same moments came into my head until his movie began to seem like an emotional and stylistic rebuke to Besson's excesses.

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