HBO’s Sultry French Drama The Seduction Shakes Up the World of Dangerous Liaisons

Period drama lovers have been spoiled for choice in recent years, from the success of traditional costume favorites like Downton Abbey and Poldark to the arrival of new series like Bridgerton, Peaky Blinders, and even Shogun, all of which have helped push the boundaries of what this genre is meant to be and do. However, what far too many period drama enthusiasts don’t seem to know is exactly how much exciting historical programming is available in languages other than English. 

To be fair, it’s not entirely their fault. Despite the breakout success of shows like Netflix’s Squid Game, foreign language programming on most streamers is often viewed as a secondary vertical, at best. These shows are not exactly treated as a priority when it comes to marketing budgets and promotional efforts—unless, of course, they’re Squid Game—and most casual subscribers are unlikely to know they exist. Heck, even those viewers who are interested in such programming are often left to their own devices when it comes to finding out basic information like production schedules and/or release dates.

This is a shame for many reasons, but primarily because foreign language historical dramas are doing some of the most exciting and entertaining things in this industry at the moment. The Law According to Lidia Poet is delightfully well-dressed and deeply feminist fun. The Empress is an achingly romantic, tragic love story. Carême is a lush retelling of the life of the iconic French chef. While none of them are in English, they’re thrilling, addictive, and deeply entertaining series that would likely appeal to most lovers of this genre—if only they could find them. But perhaps that attitude is about to change: Prestige giant HBO is finally stepping into the ring of the foreign language period drama space with its first French-language original, The Seduction, a take on Pierre Choderlos de Laclos’ classic novel Les Liaisons Dangereuses that is more concerned with big thematic swings than strict loyalty to its source material. 

A lush, captivating reimagining that attempts to put a modern spin on a classic, The Seduction is as interested in wrestling with the ways its themes of sex, power, and manipulation resonate in our modern day as it is with life in 18th-century France. Its female characters are unapologetically furious and frustrated, chafing under the rules of a society that categorically grants different freedoms (both sexual and otherwise) to men, even as it requires its women to make themselves lesser in their service. Perhaps most importantly, however, The Seduction isn’t afraid to allow its characters—even its supposed “heroine”—to be their absolute worst selves, nor to use its story to ask broader questions about what it means to acquire power and/or influence if you must destroy your soul in the process. 

This isn’t what you might call a traditional adaptation of de Laclos’s novel. Nor is it particularly similar to the Oscar-nominated Stephen Frears movie starring Glenn Close that viewers are likely to be most familiar with. Here, things start much earlier, with a young Isabelle who is not yet Merteuil (Annamaria Vartolomei), seduced and betrayed by the Vicomte de Valmont (Vincent Lacoste) after he assumes a false identity in order to pretend to woo, wed, and bed her without consequence to himself. Kicked out of the convent in which she was living in the wake of her supposed sins—notice, again, that nothing of note happens to Valmont!—Isabelle must make her own way forward, and decide what sort of woman she wants to become. In French, this series is known simply as Merteuil, because while other familiar faces populate its salons and streets, this is, from start to finish, Isabelle’s story, a triumphant, frequently ugly tale of revenge and manipulation that is deeply satisfying in all its determined grasping. 

Turning to Valmont’s aunt, Madame de Rosemonde (Diane Kruger), for help, the young woman miraculously manages a splendid marriage to a marquis before establishing herself as one of Paris’s most illustrious courtesans, and a powerful dealer of flirtation, favors, and potential social ruin. While you’ll recognize most of The Seduction’s characters from previous adaptations or the original novel itself, many have had their stories altered and remixed in fascinating new directions. Rosemonde, for example, barely appears in the original novel and, when she does, is one of its few genuinely kind and caring figures. Here, she’s both an aspirational figure for Merteuil and a cautionary tale, a mentor and a warning whose seemingly hard-won freedom still has very evident limits. 

While The Seduction is remarkably forthright about the genuine (and strangely star-crossed) nature of Merteuil and Valmont’s romance—because that is what it is, and what a relief to have it stated so plainly for once, despite how awful they both can be to one another!—the real central relationship of the series is that between Isabelle and Rosemonde. From lessons in manipulation to casual rivalry and eventually genuine trust, the pair dance around each other like boxers, sniping, advising, and caring despite themselves. It is through their partnership that the show finds its most incisive observations about the misogynistic nature of society. It would be a mistake to call either of these characters feminist, at least in the modern way we understand the term, but the show The Seduction certainly is, and its deliberate choice to put these two women at its center, rather than Valmont or his handsome, but much more appalling rival, the Comte de Gercourt (Lucas Bravo), pays dividends. 

The series’ cast is excellent across the board. As a Merteuil who must keep up appearances at all costs, Vartolomei conveys much of her character’s inner life through little more than facial expressions and body language—her eyes literally contain multitudes— and her performance thrums with a constantly simmering rage that never quite finds an outlet big enough for it. It finds its opposite in the cool, restrained precision of Kruger’s turn as Rosemunde, which is almost certainly modeled after Close’s turn as Merteuil in the 1998 film. They’re dynamite together, so much so that the men are almost an afterthought, though Lacoste does manage to give Valmont some appealingly genuine layers. 

The Seduction almost certainly won’t be for everyone. Its characters are largely selfish and unlikeable, its midsection gets a bit draggy at various points—the show is probably an episode too long—and its themes are certainly not what anyone would call subtle. But there’s something deeply appealing about its determination to plot its own path. And, like the heroine at its center, it mostly finds its way.

The Seduction premieres November 14 on HBO.

Lacy Baugher Milas writes about TV and Books at Paste Magazine, but loves nerding out about all sorts of pop culture. You can find her on Twitter and Bluesky at @LacyMB

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