The Richest Woman in the World

There is a specific, muffled quality to the air in rooms where the rugs cost more than your childhood home. It’s a silence born of thick insulation, double-paned glass, and the kind of security that keeps the rest of the world at a polite, shivering distance. In Thierry Klifa’s The Richest Woman in the World, that silence is constantly being shattered—not by gunfire or explosions, but by the sharp click of high heels on marble and the sound of a daughter’s righteous, desperate indignation.

I watched this while trying to ignore a persistent draft coming from my balcony door, which felt ironically appropriate given how much these characters complain about the "chill" of their own emotional isolation. It’s a movie that invites you to peek through the gold-leafed keyhole of the French elite, and while the view is gorgeous, the people inside are predictably a mess.

The Huppert Masterclass in Frailty

At the center of this storm is Marianne Farrère, played by the incomparable Isabelle Huppert. At this point in her career, Huppert could play a dial tone and I’d probably find it "layered," but here she’s doing something particularly tricky. She’s the titular richest woman, an aging heiress who has decided to spend her twilight years funneling hundreds of millions into the bank account of Jérôme Bonjean (Raphaël Personnaz), a younger, charismatic artist.

Huppert plays Marianne with a terrifyingly fragile vanity. She isn't just "old and confused"; she’s a woman who has spent seventy years being told "yes" and has finally found someone who says it with enough artistic flair to make her feel seen. Is she being exploited? Probably. Does she care? Not in the slightest. Huppert makes senility look like a deliberate, rebellious fashion choice, and it’s fascinating to watch. She’s worked with Thierry Klifa before (notably in Tout nous sépare), and there’s a trust there that allows her to look genuinely vulnerable—something the queen of "cool" French cinema rarely permits.

A Family Affair or a Hostile Takeover?

If Marianne is the sun, her daughter Frédérique (Marina Foïs) is the icy planet trying to pull her out of orbit. Marina Foïs is an actress I’ve loved since her days in the comedy troupe Les Robins des Bois, but she’s evolved into one of France’s most potent dramatic forces. As the daughter filing the "abuse of weakness" complaint, she has the thankless task of being the "sensible" one.

The film lives in the friction between these two women. Frédérique claims she’s protecting her mother’s dignity; everyone else suspects she’s just protecting her inheritance. It’s a classic setup, but the screenplay—co-written by Jacques Fieschi, who penned the masterful Un Coeur en Hiver—elevates it. It’s not just about the money; it’s about the fact that Marianne is giving her attention to a stranger while her daughter has been starved of it for decades. Laurent Lafitte, as the opportunistic advisor Pierre-Alain, adds a slick, oily layer to the proceedings, reminding us that the legal system is just a high-stakes playground for people who can afford better lighting than the rest of us.

Contemporary Scandals in Gilded Frames

Released into our current "Eat the Rich" cinematic climate, this film feels like a cousin to Succession, but with a distinctly Parisian, old-money soul. While the prompt of the movie clearly echoes the real-life L'Oréal/Bettencourt scandal that rocked France years ago, Klifa isn't interested in a beat-by-beat biopic. Instead, he uses the 2025 setting to show how social media and the 24-hour news cycle turn private family grievances into public bloodsports.

The production design by the Récifilms team is staggering. They filmed in actual Parisian mansions, and you can practically smell the floor wax and old perfume. The cinematography by Hichame Alaouié captures the opulence without making it look like a travel brochure; there’s a shadowiness to the corners of these rooms that suggests the ghosts of a thousand family secrets.

Interestingly, the film doesn't quite take a side. It asks us to consider whether a billionaire has the right to be foolish. In a world where we’re hyper-aware of economic inequality, watching a woman give away enough money to fund a small country’s healthcare system to a single photographer is infuriating. Yet, Klifa manages to make Marianne’s quest for a final spark of joy feel almost... human? It’s a tough tightrope to walk, and if the film wobbles in the third act by leaning a bit too hard into courtroom drama tropes, the performances usually steady the ship.

Ultimately, The Richest Woman in the World is a polished, adult drama that knows exactly what its audience wants: high-stakes bickering in beautiful rooms. It doesn't reinvent the wheel, but when you have Isabelle Huppert and Marina Foïs staring each other down across a Louis XIV desk, you don't really need it to. It’s a sharp look at how wealth doesn't just buy comfort—it buys the ability to live in a completely different reality than everyone else, right up until the moment the lawyers knock on the door. If you enjoy watching very rich people realize that money can’t buy a daughter’s love (but can certainly buy a very handsome distraction), this is a solid Saturday night watch.