The Perfect Couple: A Cocktail of Succession, The White Lotus and Agatha Christie that Ultimately Fails to Deliver

Nicole Kidman in The Perfect Couple. Seacia Pavao/Netflix

By Andrew Dix, Loughborough University

“Nantucket!” exclaims Ishmael, the narrator of Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick (1851). “Look at it – a mere hillock, and elbow of sand; all beach, without a background.”

In Ishmael’s description, this island off the coast of Massachusetts in the north east of the US is a depleted, weathered place, scarcely distinguishable from the sea. It’s a location for hard and dangerous work, too, as the inhabitants venture into the “watery world” offshore to catch everything from mackerel to whales.

The version of Nantucket we see in The Perfect Couple, Netflix’s new six-part drama, is very different. Here it’s super-rich socialites, not salt-encrusted mariners, who occupy narrative space. They engage in conspicuous leisure, lounging poolside or circulating from party to party. Even Greer Garrison Winbury (Nicole Kidman), a highly successful writer of popular romances, is most often seen using her fingers to hold a wine glass rather than to hammer at a computer.

Adapted by Jenna Lamia from Elin Hilderbrand’s bestselling 2018 novel of the same name, and directed by Susanne Bier (perhaps best known for directing the BBC’s Le Carré adaptation The Night Manager in 2016), The Perfect Couple intertwines romance and mystery. The Winbury family gathers at its Nantucket beach house to celebrate the wedding of middle son Benji and his fiancée Amelia. A suspicious death occurs in episode one, leaving a tangle of erotic complication and forensic evidence that is unravelled across episodes two to six.

A cocktail of ingredients

A good deal of mixing, both authorised and transgressive, goes on in The Perfect Couple. Contrasting with the licensed partnering of Benji and Amelia, scandalous liaisons take place (many of them involving the groom’s father Tag: a person who has never done a day’s work, according to the local police chief, but someone with unbounded energy for sex, drink and drugs). Narcotics are dangerously combined in games of “prescription roulette” and blackberry mojito cocktails play a minor role in the plot.

All of this mixing and combining at the level of story is suggestive, for in its very composition The Perfect Couple is a synthesis of multiple pre-existing materials. It is put together itself rather in the manner of a cocktail.

Take one part Succession (for fraught family drama), one part The White Lotus (for glamorous setting) and one part Big Little Lies (for Nicole Kidman’s star presence). Mix liberally with Rian Johnson’s duo of detective films Knives Out and Glass Onion (for murderous intrigue among the super-wealthy). Finish with a generous glug of Agatha Christie: there’s a knowing nod towards this influence in episode three when Greer discloses that she had “an Agatha Christie obsession”.

The Perfect Couple’s weakness, however, is that it resembles these precursors only cosmetically, failing to carry across what makes them compelling or memorable. No equivalent is offered for the startlingly inventive language of Succession, say, or the graphic sexuality of The White Lotus.

And while The Perfect Couple could easily be retitled Christie-style – Murder on Nantucket Sound, perhaps? – the series underwhelms also as murder mystery. The police station’s doors revolve rapidly in episodes five and six, as multiple suspects are questioned; yet the interrogations lack jeopardy or tension (even, at times, plausibility). The plot is complicated, certainly, but in the final analysis un-nourishing – rather like the oyster canapes served at a Winbury party.

The view from inside

Traces of another forerunner can be detected in The Perfect Couple. Confronted by its drama of the super-rich in maritime New England, and the unravelling of financial, romantic and criminal strands, viewers may find themselves thinking of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (1925).

In comparing The Great Gatsby and The Perfect Couple, however, it is instructive to consider the question of perspective. Nick Carraway, Fitzgerald’s narrator, brings an outsider’s critical eye to bear on the wealthy world he encounters. If he sometimes swoons – taken in momentarily by “floating rounds of cocktails”, by “the champagne and the stars” – he is usually attentive to the exploitation, even the violence, that underpins such luxury.

By contrast, The Perfect Couple does not emerge from sardonic or abrasive assessment of the super-rich realm it documents. There are candidates for the outsider role occupied by Nick in The Great Gatsby: the detectives investigating the murder, perhaps, or Amelia herself, someone not born into wealth but previously a worker at a zoo (helpfully specialising in snakes). Yet any jaundiced observations they offer are fleeting, not sustained.

Instead, the wealthy in The Perfect Couple are usually viewed from the inside. The housekeeper herself has internalised the master’s perspective. And when, in episode five, the camera makes a rare foray into the catering kitchen, it is not to access the views of unprivileged folk but to find a spot for makeup sex between Amelia and Benji.

Before each episode of The Perfect Couple are ads for Chanel perfume. Ultimately, ad and series share a worldview, putting expensive things on display for our gratified gaze. When the murder is finally shown, the victim is immaculately turned out as they breathe their last. Not even violent death can be seen to ruffle this moneyed part of Nantucket.

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Andrew Dix, Senior Lecturer in American Literature and Film, Loughborough University

Trump and Harris Trade Insults and Competing Visions: Our Experts Give Their Verdicts on the US Presidential Debate

By Emma Shortis, RMIT University and Matthew Ricketson, Deakin University

Emma Shortis, Adjunct Senior Fellow, School of Global, Urban and Social Studies, RMIT University and Matthew Ricketson, Professor of Communication, Deakin University

Pucci’s Parade: Camille Miceli's Celebration of Prints, Pop and Playful Glamour in the New Collection

Amelia Gray wears the new AW24 Pucci body-hugging activewear in the fashion house's print. 

Pucci’s Autumn/Winter 2024 collection, under the creative direction of Camille Miceli, delivers an exhilarating burst of color and style, aptly titled Parade. With Amelia Gray as the face of the campaign, the collection marches to a rhythm of its own, blending Pucci codes with fresh energy. Miceli has crafted a visual kaleidoscope where prints collide with sleek silhouettes, and urban polish meets romantic pop-rock. This season is all about freedom, boldness, and playful sophistication, writes Antonio Visconti. Photographs by Johnny Dufort

Vibrant colour and Pucci prints 

pop when contrasted against black 

CAMILLE Miceli has infused Pucci’s signature exuberance with a dynamic twist in the Parade collection, drawing from two seemingly contrasting inspirations: the opulent stage costumes of Prince and the ethereal grace of figure skating attire. 

This interplay between flamboyance and fluidity defines the collection, which deftly balances masculine and feminine elements.

From taffeta balloon sleeves and A-line skirts to sleek jersey dresses trimmed with iconic Pucci prints, the collection embraces a wide array of silhouettes. 

Ultra-slim suits shimmer with glittery stripes, while body-hugging statement pieces echo the activewear aesthetic. It’s a playful dance of structure and fluidity that captures the essence of contemporary glamour.

A Trio of Moods: City, Sea and Sunset

Miceli’s new collection traverses three distinct stylistic moods. Late Summer in the City kicks off the collection with a bold reintroduction of the Orchidee print, alongside Pucci classics like Marmo and Iride. These rhythmic, colorful patterns are set against dark backdrops, highlighting their energy in a cityscape setting. Fluid jersey tops, tailored trousers, and dresses with halter and high-neck styles bring a sense of movement and urban sophistication.

Fluid skirts in pinks and black 

are striking yet relate back to

Pucci's storied design past

High Summer by the Sea offers a playful, sun-drenched vibe with a palette of juicy oranges, pinks, and limes. These beachy pieces exude effortless cool, featuring breezy caftans, sleeveless draped tops, and asymmetrical swimsuits. 

Signature Pucci motifs such as Orchidee and Festa take centre stage on light, flowing garments made for resort life and tropical getaways.

Finally, Urban Sunset ushers in an arty, feminine sensibility with blush pinks and blacks. Embellished knits and frilled tops are paired with fluid skirts, while the collection’s Marmo-inspired denim gets a refresh. This theme nods to the world of dance, with a sense of poised movement and elegance.

Accessories to Elevate the Everyday

Pucci’s collection is not just about clothing ~ it’s a complete lifestyle. The accessory lineup delivers standout pieces, including the Jewel sandal with feathers and pearls, and black utility boots adorned with foulard details. The Yummy shoulder and bucket bags come in colorful hues suited for daily use, while a sleek weekend carryall and sophisticated evening clutch round out the collection’s handbags.

Jewellery plays an imaginative role, too. A shell sautoir doubles as a pill case, and a brass lighter pendant is engraved with Pucci’s signature Marmo curves. A striking brass multi-finger ring with a feather motif, along with a sparkling ear cuff, are the final touches that add a whimsical note.

The Pucci Lifestyle: Beyond Fashion

Camille Miceli ensures the Pucci world extends beyond the runway. The Parade collection introduces unique lifestyle products, from custom playing cards to luxurious dog accessories like plush beds and outerwear. 

Playful yet practical, these items, including Marmo-covered alarm clocks and paddle rackets, reflect Pucci’s commitment to fusing past and present with a wink towards the future.

With the latest collection, Miceli has cleverly revived Pucci’s iconic heritage while propelling it into a new era of expressive, joyful design. Each piece, from the flamboyant prints to the innovative accessories, tell a story of exuberant creativity and individuality.

See highlights from the Autumn/Winter 2024 Pucci collection below 

The Mediterranean Diet is all the Rage Because it Represents a Way of Life We’ve Lost

The Mediterranean diet has been included on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list

By Marco Romagnoli, Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM) 

The promise of a long, healthy, happy existence living an active, community-based lifestyle under warm, sunny skies may be within reach. In fact, it could be on your table.

The Mediterranean diet has been included on UNESCO’s Intangible Cultural Heritage list since 2010. Not only does the diet have guaranteed cultural value, it is also a powerful strategic tool for promoting food products such as olive oil.

Often cited for its health benefits, the Mediterranean diet was first described in a 1953 book about Crete. At the time, people were amazed at the low incidence of cardiovascular disease among the inhabitants of this Greek island, compared with northern Europeans.

Among other things, this olive oil-based diet encourages the consumption of fresh foods, seasonal fruit and vegetables and whole grains. It embodies the essence of the Mediterranean lifestyle, according to the UNESCO definition:

The Mediterranean diet involves a set of skills, knowledge, rituals, symbols and traditions concerning crops, harvesting, fishing, animal husbandry, conservation, processing, cooking, and particularly the sharing and consumption of food. Eating together is the foundation of the cultural identity and continuity of communities throughout the Mediterranean Basin. It is a moment of social exchange and communication, an affirmation and renewal of family, group or community identity. 

Olive oil is at the heart of the Mediterranean diet. (Shutterstock)

But beyond its impact on our health, what does the Mediterranean diet say about us as a society? Could it be the symptom of something?

As a postdoctoral researcher at UQAM’s École des sciences de la gestion, my research lies at the intersection of heritage and tourism studies, food and mental health.

In 2021, I carried out field research in Cilento (Italy), Soria (Spain) and Marseille (France), where I looked at the inhabitants’ attachment to the Mediterranean diet. I listened to their stories and tried to understand the local and social dynamics at play in the Mediterranean diet concept.

Mirroring a deep societal crisis

The concept of the Mediterranean diet refers to a lifestyle that strengthens social relationships and is good for your health. It sounds simple and coherent.

However, the society in which we live turns the work of meeting these basic needs into something more complex. The health and social dimensions of the Mediterranean diet are seen as extremely desirable because they represent a balance that is lacking in globalized societies.

Claude Fischler, a sociologist of human nutrition, describes the multidimensional crisis of the food system in modern societies.

In his view, there is a psychopathology of daily eating underway. This is characterized by “appetite disturbances, bulimic attacks, anxious or compulsive snacking, etc.” Just think of the consumption of ultra-processed foods or ready-made and frozen meals, eaten on their own in front of the TV in the evening or in front of the computer during lunch break.

A meal at the O Vicolo ‘E L'Alleria, in Battipaglia, Italy. Eating together is the foundation of the cultural identity and continuity of communities in the Mediterranean basin. (Author provided)

In this psychopathological perspective on food, which also mirrors a societal crisis, mechanisms for cultural (and in this case, food) reactivation are appearing. The rush to the Mediterranean diet is a reflection of this societal crisis, because it is the opposite of our way of life.

With its inclusion on the UNESCO list, the Mediterranean diet has thus become a prestigious “monument” of Mediterranean culinary art.

This food culture has been mythologized and made a part of our heritage after undergoing an irreversible process of erosion of food production and consumption systems in the Mediterranean area.

‘Gastronativism’: Politics on the plate

The food arena is one of the best places to express the anxieties and fears of contemporary life.

Fabio Parasecoli, a researcher in food studies, describes the anxieties caused by globalization as gastronativism, “the ideological use of food in politics to advance ideas about who belongs to a community (however defined) and who doesn’t.”

So gastronativism represents a political tool that provides “a sense of rootedness, comfort and security” in the face of perceived collapse (climate change, wars, pandemics, globalization).

The Mediterranean diet is part of this gastronativist approach, standing for a lifestyle that can be adopted.

Different meanings of the Mediterranean diet

We often hear about the Mediterranean diet from institutions and academics. What we don’t hear much about are the views of the communities that practise this way of life.

My field research in 2021 aimed to understand the different ways in which the Mediterranean diet is defined, described, understood and lived, depending on the community.

The Mediterranean diet involves a set of skills, knowledge and rituals that relate in particular to cultivation, harvesting and picking. (Shutterstock)

In Cilento, the Mediterranean diet is synonymous with “lifestyle.” It’s part of local identity and a reference to the wider socio-cultural sphere (“our lifestyle,” the locals say).

In Soria, it embodies a “nutritional model” and in the domain of health: the adjectives most commonly used to describe it are “healthy,” “beneficial,” and “health-conscious.”

In Marseille, the term “diet” conjures up images of fasting, deprivation and abstinence, while the term “Mediterranean” refers to organic, seasonal and healthy food. The reference here is more to the food industry.

A sociocultural seismograph

Whether understood as a nutritional model, a way of life or an example of intangible heritage, the Mediterranean diet represents a way out of a system (societal, food, economic, environmental) in crisis and in constant search of reference points.

Seismographs are instruments that record and measure earthquakes. Like a “sociocultural seismograph,” the Mediterranean diet enables us to capture the vibrations, i.e. the changes taking place in contemporary society with which cultural (and dietary) practices must contend.

Marco Romagnoli, Postdoctoral research fellow, Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM)

Jane Austen’s Mr Darcy Believes ‘Extensive Reading’ Makes an Accomplished Woman. What Else Does Reading Mean in her work?

Elizabeth Bennet (Jennifer Ehle) reading in the BBC series of Pride and Prejudice 

By Gillian Dooley, Flinders University

What does it mean to be a reader in Jane Austen’s novels? And what does it mean to read them? Susan Allen Ford, longtime editor of the Jane Austen Society of North America’s journals, confesses to perhaps 25 years of fascination with her subject.

She makes no claim to completeness for her book, What Jane Austen’s Characters Read (And Why), nor does she promise “an understanding of Jane Austen that will overturn all previous readings”. Instead, she sees her book as a “continued exploration”.

And what a book it is!

In her introduction, Ford explores various characters’ use and misuse of reading. For example, the scene in Pride and Prejudice where Caroline Bingley, trying to attract the attention of the rich Fitzwilliam Darcy, accuses heroine Elizabeth Bennet of being interested in nothing but reading. When he responds that extensive reading is a necessary attribute of an accomplished woman, the intended barb backfires.

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Review: What Jane Austen’s Characters Read (and Why) – Susan Allen Ford (Bloomsbury)

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Ford introduces the concept of the “model reader” – the ideal reader Jane Austen might have imagined for her writings. She adopts the idea from the great Italian novelist and academic Umberto Eco, who regarded this reader as one who was willing to observe the rules, and eager to play the game, of the novelist.

This concept allows Ford the freedom to speculate about the allusions to books of all kinds she finds throughout Austen’s novels: from the poetry of William Cowper and the gothic fiction of Ann Radcliffe, to the many “conduct books” that set out the supposed duties of the female sex, and fashionable anthologies (such as Elegant Extracts, which Austen owned and gifted to her then eight-year-old niece).

Austen’s model reader will get all her jokes, and will understand all the quotes and passing references 21st-century readers will puzzle over (and possibly google), or pass over without a second thought, depending on their disposition.

Ford explains in the last pages of her book that “the construction of the model reader that I’ve traced through Austen’s use of reading characters is itself a kind of fiction”. This model reader might never have existed. (If she did, she was probably Jane Austen’s sister Cassandra, her best friend and life-long companion.)

Ford’s is an informed personal view, like any good scholarly reading of literature. Others carrying out the same exercise would make different discoveries.

Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice.

Jane Austen’s reading

What did Austen read? In her first chapter, Ford shares what information we have, as far as it can be established from sources outside the novels: the books she owned herself, the books available in her father’s library and the libraries of houses she visited, and the books she may have borrowed from circulating libraries.

Among the 20 or so books of her own were volumes as varied and exotic as Arnaud Berquin’s realistic children’s stories L’ami des enfants (in French), and John Bell’s Travels from St. Petersburg in Russia to Diverse Parts of Asia.

Jane Austen. Ben Sutherland/Flickr, CC BY

Her marginalia in books like Oliver Goldsmith’s The History of England, which she read in her teenage years and lampooned in her own History of England, are extensive. They include the immortal phrase: “Oh! Dr Goldsmith, Thou art as partial an Historian as myself!”

Six chapters chart the novels in order, though the allocation is not as neat as you might expect. Chapter two covers both Northanger Abbey and Sense and Sensibility, noting their extensive engagement with existing genres. The gothic romance and the novel of sensibility are just the two of most obvious examples.

However, Ford is not just cataloguing intertextual relationships – she always moves beyond the obvious to draw out new and intriguing possibilities. Each chapter begins with a particular genre which will be considered in the context of the novel in question. For Pride and Prejudice, it is the “conduct literature” of the time – the many books aimed at correcting and improving young people, usually young women.

Chapters four and five both concern Mansfield Park, perhaps Austen’s most complex novel, centred on the silent, watchful endurance of Fanny Price, who is brought as a child to live at Mansfield Park with her rich relatives.

The first is centred on Lover’s Vows, a play that is central to the novel’s plot – and, it could be argued, its theme. The play concerns extramarital sex, illegitimate offspring, and independent-minded women. Naturally, Ford does not simply map the play onto the novel – that has been done many times before. She draws subtle illumination from the interaction of the two texts.

Chapter five considers the novel’s characters as readers, in particular the way Fanny’s reading informs her perspective on the world beyond Mansfield. Although she is habitually stuck at home with her aunts, she is familiar with astronomy and foreign travel from her reading: she can look beyond the petty intrigues and pastimes of her cousins and other characters.

These two chapters on Mansfield Park (in my view Austen’s richest and most rewarding novel, and one that is often, in Ford’s words, regarded as the “most vexing”) left me awed at their insight, their subtlety, and their brilliance.

Gothic shadows, romance and realism

Chapter six shows us “the encroachment of gothic shadows” on the world of Emma. Here, Austen is playing an even more interesting game than in Northanger Abbey, her acknowledged gothic novel. As Ford writes, she “questions the power of narrative to explain, to cohere”. She “celebrates authorial design, the design of the imaginist, acknowledging the central mysteries of the self, the other, of human relationships, of love”.

In Emma, Austen famously perfects the authorial sleight of hand called “free indirect discourse”: she slips from the narrator’s voice into the character’s mind without most readers being aware, subtly suggesting Emma’s ironies and fallibilities without having to explain.

In Emma, Austen subtly suggests Emma’s ironies and fallibilities without having to explain to the reader.

Chapter seven takes us, of course, to Austen’s last completed novel, Persuasion, in which Anne Elliot lives with the memory of her lost love while coping with the insistent daily demands of her family, to whom she is “only Anne”. As Ford writes, the novel holds “romance and realism in tension”. This is not a bad single summary of the whole of Austen’s works – at least, the adult writings.

Ford’s concluding chapter takes us to the tantalising first 15 chapters that are all that exists of Austen’s last novel Sanditon, which features a glorious cast of hypochondriacs and speculators in a newly established seaside resort. It was left unfinished when she died.

An archly playful invitation, declined

I don’t think I’m alone in finding few of Austen’s immediate predecessors and contemporaries especially readable. I am ashamed how little I know of the books she would have read.

I have read and enjoyed Henry Fielding, author of Tom Jones and regarded by some as one of the founders of the English novel; Samuel Richardson, who pioneered the epistolary novel (or novel in letters); and Frances Burney, whose Evelina is considered a landmark in the novel of manners. Others I have tried and left off – like Northanger Abbey’s Catherine Morland and her piano lessons – with relief.

My excuse would be that these works are not essential to any of my own research projects; my reason is that they are just not enjoyable and absorbing like Austen’s novels. She single-handedly raised the bar for long-form prose fiction in her time.

I can see that reading some of these works would inform my study of Austen’s musical background, but I can also rejoice that Ford has read them on my behalf. Of Fordyce’s Sermons, one of the most celebrated of the “conduct books” of the time, beloved of Mary Bennet and Mr Collins in Pride and Prejudice, Ford tells us its author, Scottish Presbyterian clergyman James Fordyce:

may not tickle our ears as he did those of his contemporaries, but the curious will find their experience of Austen’s novels […] heightened by a trudge through his orotund complacencies.

This archly playful invitation is worthy of Austen herself. It might almost be a quotation from one of her letters – and I have no trouble declining it. I thus fail to attain the standard of Austen’s “model reader”. I also fall far short of Ford’s own version of a model reader – one of the curious who would be eager to trudge in her footsteps.

Reading this book does, however, vastly increase my already considerable respect for the redoubtable Ford, a dedicated Austen scholar of extraordinary penetration and erudition. This is one of those rare publications that combines the rigours of scholarly work with the seductions of witty and extremely readable prose.

Gillian Dooley, Adjunct Associate in English, Flinders University

Alain Delon was an Enigmatic Anti-Hero and France’s Most Beautiful Male Movie Star

Alain Delon as psychopath Tom Ripley in Rene Clement's Plein Soleil/Purple Noon (1960)

By Ben McCann

Alain Delon’s death at the age of 88 brings down the curtain of one of postwar European cinema’s most important film stars.

Known for his striking “movie star” look – chiselled features, piercing blue eyes – and magnetic screen presence, Delon portrayed characters who seemed on the surface to be effortless and suave.

He was often described as feline. But this outward gracefulness often masked a morally dubious, anti-hero persona. Beneath the sharp suits lay icy steel.

A breakthrough role

Born in 1935 in Sceaux, a wealthy Paris suburb, Delon had a difficult childhood, marked by his parents’ divorce, a disrupted schooling and an unhappy stint in the French Navy.

After being spotted by a talent scout at the 1957 Cannes Film Festival, Delon’s breakthrough came in 1960 with the French film Purple Noon, directed by René Clément.

In this adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s novel The Talented Mr Ripley, Delon played the role of Tom Ripley, a charming but morally ambiguous forger and identity thief.

Setting the standard for future screen versions of Ripley (played by the likes of Matt Damon and Andrew Scott), Delon’s performance was widely acclaimed and established him as a rising star.

Rarely had audiences seen such a cool, enigmatic and morally compromised character. Highsmith was particularly impressed.

A 1960s icon

What followed was a glittering range of roles.

He collaborated twice with the great Italian director Luchino Visconti on Rocco and His Brothers (1960) and The Leopard (1963). Both films were critical successes, further solidifying Delon’s reputation as a leading actor.

In The Leopard, Delon plays Tancredi Falconeri, a young and charming Sicilian nobleman. His chemistry with Claudia Cardinale is one of the film’s highlights.

He moved effortlessly between genres, from crime dramas and thrillers to romantic films and period pieces. In the psychological thriller La Piscine (The Swimming Pool, 1969), Delon starred alongside Romy Schneider.

A year later came Borsalino, a popular gangster film in which Delon starred alongside his great friend Jean-Paul Belmondo.

While deeply rooted in French culture, Delon’s appeal transcended national borders. He became a global star, beloved not only in Europe but also in places like Japan, where he had a huge fan base.

The anti-hero archetype

But Delon’s most remarkable performance came in Le Samouraï (1967). Directed by Jean-Pierre Melville, Delon played Jef Costello, a stoic, methodical hitman, in a performance that became a benchmark for the “cool” anti-hero archetype in cinema.

It is widely regarded as a masterpiece of minimalist cinema and has had a significant influence on the crime and thriller genres.

Michael Fassbender in The Killer (2023), Forest Whitaker in Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999) and Ryan Gosling in Drive (2011) all owe a debt to Delon’s “angel of death” portrayal of the silent hitman. Delon wore a trench coat and fedora in the film: his costume has been endlessly analysed and much imitated.

Delon worked again with Melville in Le Cercle Rouge (The Red Circle, 1970) and Un Flic (A Cop, 1972), plus other great European auteurs like Michelangelo Antonioni, Louis Malle and Jean Luc-Godard, for whom he played twins in Nouvelle Vague (New Wave, 1990).

And don’t forget his role as Klein in Joseph Losey’s gripping Mr Klein (1976), a film set in wartime Paris with Delon playing an art dealer who begins to realise there is another Klein who is Jewish and a Gestapo target. The police begin to investigate him, suspecting he might be the man they are looking for.

It was the clinching proof, wrote film critic David Thomson, that Alain Delon “matters” as an actor.

His final role in 2008 was a memorable one: Julius Caesar in Asterix at the Olympic Games.

He received an honorary Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 2019, recognising his contributions to cinema over several decades. After suffering a stroke in 2019, Delon withdrew from public life.

A complicated off-screen life

That withdrawal only fuelled press gossip over his complicated personal life.

Delon’s relationship with Austrian actress Romy Schneider had captivated the public’s imagination. The two met on the set of the film Christine in 1958 and became engaged. Their breakup in 1963 reportedly devastated Schneider.

He later had relationships with the French singer Dalida and Swedish star Ann-Marget, before settling down with French actress Mireille Darc. She was his companion and occasional co-star from 1968 to 1982.

His outspoken political views often scandalised France (he once said he supported France’s far-right party).

More recently, his personal life was marked by controversies, including legal issues involving his four children. His son Anthony (also an actor) spoke publicly about the difficulties he faced growing up in his father’s shadow.

Another son, Alain-Fabien, also had a troubled relationship with his father, including a long estrangement. Delon’s final years were beset by squabbles and accusations among the family; at one point, his children accused Delon’s assistant of abuse and harassment.

What will endure is the “Delon style”, both on and off the screen. He influenced fashion, cultural attitudes and the concept of the “modern man” during the 1960s and 1970s.

Back in April, the New Yorker posed a rhetorical question about Delon: can a film star ever be too good-looking? Look at the towering achievement of Delon’s films and you’ll have your answer.

Ben McCann, Associate Professor of French Studies, University of Adelaide

Who was Hannibal? How One Brilliant General Almost Brought Ancient Rome to its Knees

Hannibal Crossing the Alps; detail from a fresco by Jacopo Ripanda, ca 1510, Palazzo dei Conservatori (Capitoline Museum), Rome

By Darius von Guttner Sporzynski, Australian Catholic University

He lived and died more than 2,000 years ago but Hannibal is remembered as one of history’s most formidable military commanders and as “Rome’s greatest enemy”.

His daring crossing of the Alps, with an army that included war elephants, shines as evidence to his tactical brilliance.

The Carthaginian general’s innovative military strategies in his struggle against Rome give us a glimpse into why his fame endures.

An early hostility toward Rome

Hannibal Barca was born in 247 BCE in Carthage, an ancient city in Northern Africa, in what is now Tunisia.

His father is credited with instilling in Hannibal a hostility towards Rome, a deep-seated drive that would shape much of his military career.

Hannibal’s leadership qualities and the understanding of military tactics were honed through his experiences in the Carthaginian army.

Hannibal first came into prominence in 219 BCE when the Carthaginian army under his command attacked the city of Saguntum (in modern Spain), triggering the Second Punic War with Rome.

Then came his cunning stratagem that brought his army into Italy all the way from Spain. Hannibal led his troops through the Alps in 218 BCE, catching the Romans off guard.

What’s more, he brought a contingent of war elephants ready for battle.

Hannibal forced Rome to rethink its military strategies. Gilmanshin/Shutterstock

These elephants were trained to instil fear in the enemy during combat.

In the series of battles with the Romans, Hannibal proved he was capable of undertaking seemingly impossible feats to achieve strategic advantages.

In the Battle of the Trebia (218 BCE) Hannibal lured the Romans into an ambush on the Trebia River.

More victories soon followed. In both the Battle of Lake Trasimene and the Battle of Cannae Hannibal’s army inflicted devastating casualties on the significantly larger Roman forces.

Hannibal’s threat to Rome stemmed from his innovative tactics, psychological warfare, and his ability to exploit Roman leadership’s overconfidence, their rigid adherence to established war tactics, and their initial tendency to underestimate the power and speed of Hannibal’s cavalry.

Hannibal forced Rome to rethink its military strategies and adapt in ways that would ultimately shape the future of the Roman Empire.

Master of strategy

Hannibal’s tactical acumen was unparalleled. He consistently outmanoeuvred Roman armies, employing strategies that took advantage of the terrain and the element of surprise.

His victory at the Battle of Cannae (216 BCE) is illustrative of his tactical genius.

By executing a double envelopment manoeuvre, Hannibal managed to encircle and annihilate the Romans. Hannibal’s clever use of the cavalry allowed him to outflank the Roman infantry.

A year later, he adapted his strategy to a different terrain and used the fog at the Battle of Lake Trasimene to conceal his troops. The effect was a devastating ambush of the Romans.

The news of massive casualties delivered a profound psychological blow to Rome.

Psychological warfare

Hannibal understood the power of psychological warfare.

He knew fear undermined the confidence of Roman soldiers and their leaders.

The phrase “Hannibal is at the gates” became a Roman proverb, reflecting the pervasive horror he instilled in his opponents.

Hannibal’s use of psychological strategies extended to his own troops as well.

To maintain high morale and discipline he ensured his soldiers were well fed and shared in their hardships, sleeping on the ground wrapped in a blanket.

His leadership proved inspirational.

Exploiting Roman weaknesses

Hannibal was adept at identifying the weaknesses in Roman military and political structures. The Roman practice of alternating command between two consuls proved to be a vulnerability that Hannibal exploited.

On several occasions, he timed his attacks to coincide with the consulship of less experienced in command, leading to disastrous defeats for Rome.

Hannibal employed spies and gathered intelligence paid for by silver from Carthaginian-controlled mines in Spain. The information allowed him to anticipate Roman movements and counter their strategies.

Hannibal’s campaigns had lasting effects on Rome. His prolonged presence in Italy, despite never capturing Rome itself, forced the Romans to adapt their military strategies and organisation of their armies.

The Roman military became more flexible and began to place greater emphasis on cavalry and intelligence gathering. They learned from the very tactics that had caused them so much trouble. This led to Rome’s eventual victory in the Second Punic War.

Hannibal’s legacy

Hannibal’s legacy extends beyond his immediate impact on Rome. His military strategies and tactics continue to be studied in military academies around the world.

His ability to conduct successful campaigns with limited resources and his innovative use of terrain and psychological warfare remain relevant for military leaders today.

Commanders such as Julius Caesar, Napoleon, and George S. Patton drew inspiration from Hannibal’s methods, demonstrating the timeless nature of his military genius.

An engraving by Dutch artist Cornelis Cort depicts the battle between Scipio and Hannibal at Zama. The Metropolitan Museum

Hannibal’s downfall

Despite his victories against the Romans, Hannibal did not conquer the city of Rome, allowing the Romans to regroup. His position was weakened because his troops lacked reinforcements and supplies from Carthage.

When the Romans adopted a strategy of attrition, avoiding large-scale battles with the Carthaginian general, Hannibal’s army was cut off from supply lines.

At the Battle of Zama in modern-day Tunisia (in 202 BCE) Hannibal was defeated by the young Roman general Scipio Africanus. Scipio used Hannibal’s own tactics against him, marking the end of the Second Punic War.

Hannibal’s career never recovered. Hannibal took his own life in 183 BCE to avoid capture by the Romans.

A long legacy

Hannibal remains a towering figure in military history, not only for his bold campaigns and tactical brilliance but also for his ability to challenge and adapt to the formidable Roman war machine.

His fame as a master strategist continues to captivate and inspire today.

Darius von Guttner Sporzynski, Historian, Australian Catholic University