Sissi: Fateful Years of an Empress (1957, Austria)

In three years, Romy Schneider had become the face of Austrian cinema. Appearing as Empress Elisabeth (”Sissi”) of Austria as part of Ernst Marischka’s Sissi trilogy, she is, as always, luminous and gracious in the role that became hers. German-language media would, decades afterwards, sometimes refer to Schneider as “Sissi”. This final film – Sissi: Fateful Years of an Empress – is the least escapist in an otherwise popular, romanticized series that gave Austrians a source of cultural pride while trying to rebuild from the wreckage of World War II. It is also a solid summation of what Ernst Marischka wished to accomplish with these films: an opulent royal drama with enough good-natured humor to attract the widest possible audience. All three films are holiday season television traditions in German-speaking nations and elsewhere, even if the second and third never quite recapture the charm of the first. For Sissi: Fateful Years of an Empress, Marischka assembles his regular cast and crew one last time.

In Sissi: The Young Empress, we witnessed (anachronistically) as Sissi (Schneider) and Emperor Franz Joseph (Karlheinz Böhm) became King and Queen of Hungary, forming the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Court life is insufferable as usual, Franz Joseph’s mother Archduchess Sophie (Vilma Degischer) continues to dictate Sissi’s schedule, and Hungarian Count Andrássy (Walther Reyer) has confessed his love to Sissi. Scandalous! Much of the film concentrates on lingering tensions between Austrians and Hungarians (Sissi is more popular than Franz Joseph in Hungary, given that she has learned Hungarian), Sissi’s extended bout of tuberculosis and recovery in Madeira and Corfu, and ongoing Italian nationalist sentiment in Milan and Venice (at the time, both were possessions of Austria-Hungary).

The trilogy’s regular supporting cast of characters returns: Franz Joseph’s father Archduke Franz Karl (Erich Nikowitz); Sissi’s mother Duchess Ludovika (Magda Schneider, Romy’s mother); Sissi’s father Duke Max (Gustav Knuth); Sissi’s eldest sister Princess Helene (referred to as ”Néné”, Uta Franz); and the recently-promoted comic relief in Major Böckl (Josef Meinrad).

As always, there are historical inaccuracies abound. Sissi’s fight with tuberculosis, though often discussed among Austrians when recounting their history, is probably just an unfounded rumor. Her stay in Hungary’s Gödöllő Palace occurred after that rumored affliction, not before. Lastly, Sissi’s first daughter, Sophie, who appears in the concluding moments, passed away very young after Sissi had temporarily moved to Hungary.

The latter two Sissi films feel like episodes in an extended plot, rather than their own, independent pieces. This should be obvious, but an individual’s appreciation of the sequels is dependent in the familiarity of what has happened before. Almost all of the character development is seen through Sissi, while everyone else remains as they were when we were first introduced to them.

How unfortunate, many Sissi fans will remark, that Romy Schneider came to dislike the role of Sissi so much that she refused to reprise he role when made aware of plans for a fourth film. Indeed, she is the greatest aspect of all three films and she, more than anyone else attached to these projects, should be able to say when there is nothing more she can provide to the character (Romy’s mother, Magda, lobbied her daughter to agree to the fourth film). Perhaps the role of Sissi might not have been the most dramatically demanding role that any actress might ever encounter, but with this valedictory performance that ranges between personal confidence to royal exasperation to physical fragility, it is the most layered portrayal of Empress Elisabeth yet, even if it is not the most appealing. Schneider, after Sissi, sought to develop her talents under some of Europe’s most noted auteurs all while occasionally starring in Hollywood films. Schneider would make one final appearance as Empress Elisabeth in Luchino Visconti’s Ludwig (1972, Italy/France/West Germany), but that interpretation of Sissi – misanthropic, scheming – is unlike anything seen in Marischka’s trilogy.

For co-star Böhm (who is simply sufficient here), a promising career stalled with the critical and commercial failure of Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom (1960), in which Böhm stars as the film’s cinematographer/photographer/serial killer. The sexual themes of Peeping Tom poisoned Böhm’s appeal to film producers, although he would continue working until 1980. From 1981 onward, he and his wife concentrated almost entirely on humanitarian work in Ethiopia.

As he did for the previous films, Marischka also co-produced and wrote the screenplay himself. Moreso than Sissi and Sissi: The Young Empress, this film tackles European politics from its opening minutes. Marischka’s take on how Hungarians, Milanese, Venetians, and others viewed Austria-Hungary is portrayed through some of the rosiest tinted glasses one could possibly find – the harshest words for the Austrian royals are mild, soon won over by Sissi’s deference, beauty, and charm. The intensity of the Empire’s ethnic relations and political power plays are minimized, assuming Franz Joseph’s and Elisabeth’s inherent righteousness. She must, according to the ever-demanding Archduchess Sophie, be at his side in these political affairs, but do and say little. But Sissi is not the passive type, and she assists in the well-mannered, considerate ways that she can.

This is best exemplified in the scene where Sissi and Franz Joseph attend a production of La Traviata at La Scala, an esteemed Milanese opera house. As the royal couple are about to take their seats to the tune of “Kaiserhymne” (music by Joseph Hayden and lyrics by Lorenz Leopold Haschka; you may recognize the melody as the German national anthem). Midway through the Austrian anthem, the orchestra abruptly switches to “The Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves” from Verdi’s opera Nabucco; the Italian nationalists in the audience stand up, backs towards the Emperor and Empress, singing in unison. Instead of leaving the opera (as others might have done) during this act of defiance, Sissi wants to hear the nationalists out and applauds when the piece is finished. Stunned by her magnanimous applause, the Milanese – actually the servants of the nobles who were refused to show up – are heartened by the respect she has shown to their demonstration. From a musical standpoint, this Verdi chorus was used as a protest song in nineteenth-century Italy for those wishing to see a unified Italian state; its popular use in Italian society was probably not what Verdi was intending, but that is the reputation the composition garnered (a reputation advanced by this film).

As they have been throughout, those working on the film’s technical departments are doing tremendous work. Costume designers Leo Bei and Gerdago have spectacular uniforms, gowns, dresses, and suits in every single moment of this film. Composer Anton Profes returns with Sissi’s violin-heavy leitmotif repeated across the trilogy. Production designer Fritz Jüptner-Jonstorff carries over much of his incredible work recreating dance halls and imperial palace hallways and rooms when Sissi is in Austria. Nowhere does it confirm or deny that the production shot at La Scala, so I cannot credit Jüptner-Jonstorff with what might be a fantastic reproduction of the terraced seating of the music hall. Cinematographer Bruno Mondi, hamstrung by all the interiors in the second film, is once more confined to imperial quarters. But the final sequence in Venice, utilizing the enormity of Piazza San Marco, is appropriately epic in scope and beautifully framed to conclude three years of a landmark in Austrian cinema.

The Sissi trilogy never appeared in their original theatrical cuts in the United States. Some years after, Paramount purchased the rights to distribute Sissi to American cinemas, but decided to splice the three films together into an abridged version. That version is Forever My Love (1962), and it is not recommended for any viewers interested in watching the Sissi films.

For an Austria just beginning to reassert its autonomy after years of destruction and desolation, the Sissi series offered respite from economic and political woes and a celebration of being Austrian. Some detailed parts of the storytelling and cultural references will escape the detection, the understanding of many. What remains for all to see is an amiable trilogy where a princess become and Empress, where a young girl accepts the duties of her public position and become a unifying force for a nation of different, conflicting peoples. Where Sissi is beginning to understand the desires and fears of the non-Austrians in the empire and the practices of the imperial family, she never loses her indispensable empathy for others. For all those who may see these films and even for those who see these works as sugary fictions, may we learn and live by that example.

My rating: 7/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

Also in the Sissi trilogy: Sissi (1955) and Sissi: The Young Empress (1956)

Sissi (1955, Austria)

Germany’s annexation of Austria in World War II devastated Austria’s domestic film industry. Either its best directors, producers, and writers fled to neutral or Allied nations or they were absorbed into a centralized, Nazi-run film company named Wien-Film (”Wien” is German for Vienna). Wien-Film rarely distributed propaganda, but its light comedies had anti-Semitic and Fascist undertones. Following Axis defeat, Austria’s film industry – unlike Italy’s neorealists, Poland’s directors examining national identity, or French New Wave directors advocating innovation – looked backward with period pieces and musical comedies as the Austrian public sought escapism, not reminders of their daily struggles. Some writers and historians of cinema might dismiss this demand for escapism as resulting in unchallenging films. But just because Sissi – the first of a trilogy based on the early life of Empress Elisabeth (”Sissi”; pronounced “SEE-see” not like the word “sissy”) of Austria – is not a thematically or cinematically complicated piece, does not mean its initial and enduring popularity is worthless.

Think of Sissi as a delectable, artisanal box of chocolates. Think of Ingmar Bergman movies as broccoli – Swedish broccoli. The latter is healthy and you may just like it (I certainly do); the former may do no favors for your health, but is it not enjoyable?

By 1955, Austria was still in the throes of economic recovery with the Marshall Plan’s assistance. Still occupied by Allied forces, Austria reestablished its sovereignty on July 27, 1955. Five months later, Ernst Marischka’s Sissi was released, becoming one of the most successful German-language movies of all time. Sissi and the two movies following it – which will receive write-ups after this – have since become Christmas staples in German-speaking countries and Hungary. All of that enjoyment begins in the first installment. For Austrians prideful of their history and national identity, it is a romanticized, sanitized yuletide treat. For everyone else, Sissi begins the story of a sumptuous royal drama with the sense of humor of a live-action ‘50s/’60s Disney film (without the juvenile intentions), the production quality as beautiful as any Western film in these difficult years for Europe.

It is the mid-1850s in Bavaria (at the time part of the ineffective German Confederation with close ties with the Austrian Empire, also a member of the Confederation). Princess Elisabeth (Romy Schneider; henceforth referred to as “Sissi”) is the second-oldest daughter of Duke Maximilian Joseph (Gustav Knuth; “Max”) and Duchess Ludovika (Magda Schneider, Romy’s mother). Sissi is sixteen years old, running about her parents’ lakeside estate among the forests and green mountains, living through a wondrous childhood. One day, eldest sister Helene (Uta Franz; “Nené”) travels with their mother, Ludovika, to Bad Ischl, a summer retreat of Austrian Emperor Franz Joseph I (Karlheinz Böhm). Nené is to be engaged to Franz Joseph, an arrangement engineered long ago by his mother, Archduchess Sophie (Vilma Degischer; Sophie is Ludovika’s elder sister). Despite not being invited to court due to her tomboyish ways, Sissi joins her mother and elder sister out of curiosity for new sights and experiences. While wandering the forest, Sissi accidentally encounters Franz Joseph, beginning a succession of events that sees them falling in love, the audience reeling in secondhand embarrassment for Nené especially, and ending with Sissi’s marriage and crowning as Empress on April 24, 1854.

Other important characters include Franz Joseph’s father Archduke Franz Karl (Erich Nikowitz) and Franz Joseph’s brother Archduke Karl Ludwig (Peter Weck). Serving as comic relief are two fictional creations: the overly presumptuous Gendarmerie-Major Böckl (Josef Meinrad; whose character appears in the two successive Sissi films) and the Postmaster of Ischl (Richard Eybner).

There are some historical inaccuracies for those wanting to compile a definitive list of such things: Sissi was actually the fourth child of Max and Ludovika, not the second. Also, there was never any clandestine mountainous flirtation between Franz Joseph and Sissi; instead, he just happened to find Sissi more attractive than Nené (if Nené had a nicer temperament, then his motivations might be suspect). Of all the Sissi films, this first installment – the entire trilogy was written by Marischka – is the one rewriting history the most. The narrative contrivances to extend the romantic drama are too convenient and too silly to be believed anyways. This fits with the tenor Sissi is attempting but is ultimately as clichéd as any romance could be.

However, depending on how enjoyable and charming a piece of narrative art is, even the most generic of storylines and developments get an occasional (or frequent) pass. The opening half-hour of Sissi sees the titular princess and her siblings frolic like the spoiled countryside urchins they are – think “Do-Re-Mi” from another film allowing audiences a glimpse of beautiful Austrian backdrops. For all of the traditional stiffness that Archduchess Sophie attempts to enforce, the gleeful spontaneity of Sissi’s family (and Sissi herself) provides a light-hearted juxtaposition that, in the two subsequent films, becomes the center of personal dramas. The 1955 Sissi is hinting at the disappointment and sadness that is to come, but there is nothing like a first love for people to forget life’s difficulties, and what must be endured and tolerated as years pass. The audience can sense the tension between Sissi’s dedication to Franz Joseph and her fear of the trappings – and traps – of the imperial duties she must perform.

Throughout this trilogy, Romy Schneider takes the part of Sissi and allows us to see the Empress’ generosity, forbearance, and endurance. By the time the final Sissi film was released in 1957, Schneider would occasionally be referred to as, “Sissi” in German-language media. All this for good reason – Schneider becomes Sissi on the first try. Her warmth, derived from her too-perfect parents and too-perfect family, is here in abundance, even in times where her character faces the obstruction of royal ways and Archduchess Sophie’s initial coldness toward her. As Franz Josef, Karlheinz Böhm – ten years Schneider’s elder, the two became great friends during production – is less charismatic here, but his better performances will come as political intrigue strikes in the upcoming movies.

Elsewhere, Vilma Degischer plays Archduchess Sophie as a stickler for tradition, almost offended by her son’s indiscretions – Sophie convinced her husband to abdicate the throne in 1848 to Franz Josef, positioning herself as arguably the most important person in the Austrian Empire. Degischer is unmoving, calculating, but never acting against her son’s or the Empire’s interests. Degischer allows audiences to understand Sophie’s intentions – a lesser actress might have interpreted Sophie as too antagonistic. A subplot where Gendarmerie-Major Böckl believes Sissi to be a nefarious individual before her first encounter with Franz Joseph is an overstretched punchline, but at least Josef Meinrad’s energy and comic timing is excellent.

The first Sissi film is, thematically, the least interesting in the entire series despite being the least flawed overall. All of the conflicts – political, personal, familial – that make this series worthwhile are all developing in the background, to be fully articulated once Sissi understand the imperial experience of being a public leader. This film is most like the stereotypical conception of a Disney princess movie, with romance that is flighty, and drama that is, in some sense, smiled away.

Unless written otherwise, many of the craftspersons about to be mentioned served for the entire Sissi trilogy because they were Ernst Marischka regulars around this time. Everyone mentioned here contributes astounding work.

Cinematographer Bruno Mondi (co-cinematographer on Fritz Lang’s 1921 film Destiny) shoots much of this film outdoors, as the first Sissi is more dependent on exteriors and on-location footage than the others.  Thankfully for Mondi, the on-location exteriors lend to this film’s (and the trilogy’s) epic, postcard-picture-perfect scope. Seeking out locations Princess (later Empress) Elisabeth lived in her youth, Marischka wanted to shoot at the family estate of Possenhofen Castle on Lake Starnberg. However, the castle was in such disrepair at the time that shooting moved to Fuschlee Castle in Salzburg instead. Other locations include the Tyrolean mountains, Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna (Franz Joseph’s summer residence; Schönbrunn will be prevalent later) and St. Michael's Church in Vienna.

In other technical areas, the costume design by Leo Bei (Marischka’s 1954 film The Story of Vickie, various 1960s Disney productions set in Austria), Gerdago (The Story of Vickie), and Franz Szivats (Szivats is the only credited costume designer who did not work on the third film) is magnificent. Alternating between simpler – but upper-class – casual attire to the courtly gowns and suits found in the ball scenes, the amount of costumes needed for Sissi alone is incredible to see. Art director/production designer Fritz Jüptner-Jonstorff has obviously completed extensive research to implement as many details as he can to Sissi’s family’s lakeside home as well as the royal residences.

The music score by Anton Profes (The Story of Vickie) concentrates around Sissi’s theme, which appears across the trilogy typically as transitional music. The motif never tires itself, and Profes knows to arrange the theme slightly depending on the situational contexts of the previous or upcoming scenes. Otherwise, if one despises Viennese waltzes, be warned that Johann Strauss II’s Roses from the South waltz might be stuck in your head once completing any of the Sissi films (as is a recurring theme in this write-up, there will be more waltz music and musical interest in the sequels; know what you are getting into in all facets of the filmmaking before committing). Oh, and for you history sticklers, Roses from the South is an anachronism; Strauss composed the piece in 1880.

Not only did Sissi become an instant cultural phenomenon in Austria, a sort of reclamation of a glorious past through cinema. But it also proved popular in an unexpected place. For Chinese mainlanders who lived through the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976), the film’s appearance on mainland Chinese television spurred Chinese interest in Austria. The first Sissi – I have no independent confirmation about the popularity of the entire trilogy – needed no censorship because of its lack of politics and fluffy romance. On China’s equivalent of the IMDb, Douban, Sissi is very well-rated and popular for a 1950s Western movie (China, for various reasons including the government’s censoring prickliness, does not have as strong a cinematic tradition that values classic movie fandom as many Western nations).

In North America, Sissi is relatively unknown, as is the name Romy Schneider –  Schneider later appeared in a handful of Hollywood productions, but felt most at home in Europe. All three Sissi films are now available on Blu-ray thanks to New York-based Film Movement. Film Movement is an organization that distributes non-English language and independent films (theatrically and monthly on home media) that have been ignored by North American audiences. On Halloween this year, Film Movement released the box set of the entire trilogy with a new 2K restoration. These are the versions that aired on Turner Classic Movies (TCM) on October 18, and on which this review (and the two later pieces I will write to complete the trilogy) is based on.

Sissi has all the sweetness of the most heartwarming fairy tales and is deserving of its status as a cultural touchstone. Along with some liberties in the storytelling, the craftswork and the performances enliven these historical individuals and moments described in books, depicted in portraits, regarded by the Austrian people.

My rating: 7.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

Also in the Sissi trilogy: Sissi: The Young Empress (1956) and Sissi: Fateful Years of an Empress (1957)