#Erich Nikowitz

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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)

[dweemeister]

Sissi: The Young Empress (1956, Austria)

When last we saw Elisabeth of Bavaria (”Sissi”), she had just married Emperor Franz Joseph I to become Empress of Austria. Those events were depicted in 1955′s Sissi, the beginning of Ernst Marischka’s Sissi trilogy. This review concerns the second part of that trilogy, Sissi: The Young Empress, released the year after. The cast is largely the same, with few additions. Like the other films in the trilogy, this middle installment has become a Christmas television fixture in German-speaking countries even though it might not be as escapist or as accomplished as the first. We see Sissi beginning to understand the extent of her imperial duties and intervene in European politics in places where her husband cannot. Essentially trapped in the imperial summer residence of Schönbrunn Palace, she attempts to create her own happiness in the midst of the historical and regal expectations that she is unprepared for.

It is in or near the beginning of the summer of 1854 when we find Sissi (Romy Schneider) adjusting to life as Empress of Austria. Her movement, her courtly behavior, and the political matters in which she may partake in are controlled by Archduchess Sophie (Vilma Degischer) – Franz Joseph’s (Karlheinz Böhm) mother, who abdicated her claim as empress to give to her son. The Archduchess is not cruel like the archetypal fairy tale stepmother, just steeped in tradition and imperial decorum. Tensions flare when the Archduchess, upon the birth of Sissi’s firstborn in March 1855, states that she feels Sissi is too immature and young to take care of her own child. The Archduchess instead believes instead of childrearing, Sissi should concentrate on imperial duties. Heartbroken, Sissi causes scandal when she leaves Schönbrunn to see her family in Bavaria as Hungary is demanding political equality with Austrian citizens in the Empire.

European history buffs will object to that final sentence, and their objections are justified. The co-equal union of the Austrian Empire and the Kingdom of Hungary did not occur until 1867 – a year never covered by this trilogy, which keeps to the 1850s. The unification of Austria-Hungary was also a result of the Austrian Empire’s loss to Prussia in the Austro-Prussian War (1866); Marischka is not interested in depicting, let alone discussing, European warfare and the royal stratagems and pivoting to assert a monarch’s power and a nation’s sovereignty. The coronation of Franz Joseph and Elisabeth as King and Queen of Hungary is expedited more than a decade to create some sort of triumph for Sissi to end the second film on – the actual Hungarian palace where the coronation took place was unavailable for film production, as the Hungarian Revolution of 1956 against Soviet control was underway. 

By the end of this second film, viewers should probably predict that the trilogy, entirely written by Marischka (who also co-produced the trilogy), all follow a similar structure: the reintroduction of our main characters and discussions of political developments that will appear in the final passages of the respective movie, Sissi feuds with Archduchess Sophie and a life-encumbering crisis develops (whether started by the Archduchess or someone else), Sissi overcomes the crisis through a feat of personal growth, and the political troubles alluded to early in the film is resolved without bloodshed or sociopolitical acrimony. This predictable structure reduces the enjoyment of watching this and the third Sissi film, provided that one has watched the trilogy in order.

The antagonism between Sissi and the Archduchess over who should care for Sissi’s firstborn is the beginning of the decline in Empress Elisabeth’s mental health. A series of tragedies rocked the House of Habsburg-Lorraine during Sissi’s four decades as Empress in what was not a happy reign. Those events, combined with Sissi’s belief that she was essentially being imprisoned within the walls of the imperial residences, has ingrained Sissi into the minds of Austrians as a reluctant, tragic beauty.

But Sissi: The Young Empress might be unwatchable if it remained as a brooding, angsty acting exercise where Romy Schneider is made to look miserable all the time. Respite comes from the precious interactions Sissi has with her newborn baby girl, her improper return home to her parents’ residence in Bavaria (an Empress is supposed to be at the Emperor’s side whenever she is needed, repeatedly notes the Archduchess), and learning new languages like Hungarian. It is her willingness to learn Hungarian that endears her to a significant portion of the Empire, despite the objections of some in the court (and, yes, especially Archduchess Sophie, who loathes Hungarians). Sissi’s budding friendship with Count Andrássy (Walter Reyer) – historical gossip speculates that the two had an affair, a historical footnote-that-might-be-more-than-a-footnote-if-historians-knew-more swatted away by Marischka’s screenplay in the third film – also helps to calm her anxieties over her official roles. Sissi’s charisma and surplus of political capital with Hungarian leaders opens the possibility of a peaceful union between Austria and Hungary – a union later ended in the flames of World War I.

Romy Schneider disliked being so closely associated with Sissi. Nevertheless, all of these movies are impossible to imagine without her. Perhaps Schneider had more accomplished performances when she worked with Luchino Visconti and other notable European directors. But in the public’s imagination – in German-speaking Europe and, increasingly, abroad – Schneider, embodying all of Sissi’s disappointment, happiness, and courteousness, does masterful work. As Franz Joseph, Karlheinz Böhm is less of a romantic lead in Sissi: The Young Empress than in the first movie, and to have Franz Joseph keep to imperial responsibilities is a necessity of the screenplay that does not make an interesting performance. The chemistry established between Böhm and Schneider feels deflated here as a result of Marischka’s decisions. The best supporting performance, like in the prior film, is with Vilma Degischer as the Archduchess. Degischer understands that she cannot afford to have the Archduchess seem too uncaring for Sissi’s plight, so she makes sure to be less threatening and demanding when the scenario calls for it.

Many of those who worked on Sissi (1955) behind the scenes worked on the two subsequent films. Cinematographer Bruno Mondi has the eye for Bavarian landscapes, but Sissi: The Young Empress almost entirely takes places indoors. Mondi is not as well suited for so many interior shots and, compositionally, this middle film is the least interesting in the trilogy. More dolly shots following actors into and out of rooms, shots from different heights (what about closer to the floor so that we might see the ceiling and highlight Sissi’s entrapment?), and shots paralleling the walls on the far side of the room could have contributed to the aesthetic, but Mondi does very little of any of this. Mondi’s cinematography is functional, never interesting.

Costume designers Leo Bei, Gerdago, and Franz Szivats also return for Sissi: The Young Empress. Because there are more imperial courts, ball scenes, and formal ceremonies, this trio are working at such a high caliber of expertise. Borrowing some of the elements from the earlier film, alongside studies of the period’s artwork and actual dresses and suits of the Austrian Imperial Court, their work feels as authentic as it could be.

There is not enough free English-language literature about exactly where each scene was shot (was production allowed inside Schönbrunn, or were most of the interiors shot in a movie studio soundstage?) for this film. No matter what that actual ratio is, production designer Fritz Jüptner-Jonstorff has, again, provided sets that make this film stunning to look at. From the high-ceiling rooms, deep dining halls and dance floors, and ornate furniture, the art direction – despite originating from a film – is fit for an Empress.

Yet Ernst Marischka’s direction for Sissi: The Young Empress is not as impressive as the initial entry; his screenplay takes fewer risks than any of the other films (no, messing with the timeline to provide Sissi with a movie-concluding victory is just historical revisionism in this case). In an era before sequelitis infected major American studios, Sissi: The Young Empress feels too much like the prologue for a more interesting movie to come – one with more political hostility between Austrians and Hungarians and additional conflict between Sissi’s love for Franz Joseph (which never abates, but is deemphasized in this film compared to the first) and distaste for her imperial responsibilities.

Romanticized as ever, Sissi: The Young Empress is where the forces of history – despite the film’s inaccuracies – begin to converge, threatening to destroy the image of a princess-turned-Empress only looking to be happy in a role that makes her belong to an entire nation. The balance between her responsibilities to her people and state clash with her individual preferences, making “Young” the crucial word of the film’s title. It is Sissi’s youth – a desire to extend it, a realization of how alien the imperial system is – that is the subject of personal sacrifices very few people, regardless of age, are willing to make. Through it all, Sissi remains a compelling, complex character even if the filmmaking falls short of what was seen in the first part. The important lessons to be learned, the most infuriating situations to grow from, have yet to show themselves to the Empress.

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: Fateful Years of an Empress (1957)

[dweemeister]

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)