The film rides this juxtaposition of tones until Scott pulls the rug out from under to remind us that laughing at powerful buffoons can be quite dangerous and deadly.

...

By the time he rolls Napoleons death toll, it has become clear why we have to tell Napoleons story now the story of a brutal but buffoonish megalomaniac who could never admit defeat, who aligned himself with common men and became their unlikely hero, and who waged war compulsively in the name of France but France as an idea more than an actual country with real people. Does he remind you of anyone?

Napoleon is an extension of the ideas that Scott played with in The Last Duel, weaponizing period storytelling as a tool for contemporary social commentary and satire. He pulls it off with thrilling aplomb here, using tactics that the general himself would approve: a sneak attack, hiding a sharp spear of a message behind this hysterical historical romp, allowing him to skewer right into the heart of the matter. That Scott pulls it off with such style should come as no surprise.

In the early scenes, Napoleon seems to be another of Phoenixs taciturn, unnervingly volatile, enigmatically damaged, violent men. The difference is that this Napoleon, with his bloat, scowls and consuming needs, often resembles nothing as much as an angrily petulant baby, one whose cruelty and pathological vanity make the horror he unleashes unnervingly familiar.