Review
Corsage review – a cry of anger from the
pedestal-prison of an empress
Vicky Krieps puts in a star turn as lonely, patronised
Elisabeth of Austria in Marie Kreutzer’s austere drama
Peter Bradshaw
@PeterBradshaw1
Tue 20 Dec 2022 11.01 GMT
Royalty and
the pedestal-prison of womanhood is the theme of this new film from Austrian
director Marie Kreutzer, imagining the home life of the Hapsburg Empress
Elisabeth of Austria in 1877, the year of her 40th birthday. Like Sofia
Coppola’s Marie Antoinette and Pablo Larraín’s Princess Diana, the kaiserin
lives in a luxurious delirium of loneliness: notionally cherished, actually
patronised.
The movie
even shows the empress riding at the Northamptonshire estates of Diana’s
ancestor, the fifth Earl Spencer – and enjoying there a capricious romantic
flirtation with her riding instructor. It’s broadly historically accurate,
though this doesn’t apply to the use of Help Me Make It Through the Night on
the soundtrack or indeed Elisabeth’s encounter with later inventions such as
cinema and heroin. But Kreutzer sees her political melancholy as part of the
tension that led to the first world war.
Elisabeth
is brilliantly played by Vicky Krieps as mysterious and sensual, imperious and
severe: a woman of passions and discontents who faces icy distaste from the
court and the family of her unfaithful husband Franz Joseph (Florian
Teichtmeister) – this is because of her sympathies for the Hungarian part of
the Habsburg empire and her intimacy with the worldly Hungarian Count Andrássy
(Tamás Lengyel). Snickering Viennese attendants and officials impugn her
Austrian loyalties as they body-shame Elisabeth – every day she faces the
literal and figurative struggle to fit into her corsage and get down to a
terrifying 18 inches around the waist.
She only
really smiles at the sight of her dogs and is utterly devastated when the horse
that threw her has to be shot
Elisabeth
wears violet gowns, violet parasols, smokes violet cigarettes and distributes
violet-scented chocolates to the unfortunates in hospitals and asylums. She
only really smiles at the sight of her dogs and is utterly devastated when the
horse that threw her has to be shot. When travelling incognito in Vienna (to
spy on her husband’s mistress) she wears a dark veil – and requires an
attendant to pose as her in this veil for a formal event while she is indoors
shooting up. Later, she suffers the indignity of being congratulated on her
atypical poise on this occasion.
Elisabeth’s
whole life is veiled, and Kreutzer sees her style of dress and existence almost
as a variation of court mourning. The movie has her living in a series of huge,
chilly salons and gloomy dining rooms from which she takes refuge in bathrooms,
subjecting herself to various self-harming weight-loss regimes. She is a lonely
figure, galloping unattended across various European estates. She remembers the
alcoholism of her Bavarian father, who would put away seven tankards of beer of
an evening and she confesses that she thought all grownups slurred their speech
after dark.
In many
ways this is a study in anger, and it is an austere and angular picture. Krieps
gives an exhilaratingly fierce, uningratiating performance. Kreutzer’s last
film, The Ground Beneath My Feet, from 2019, had just the same shrewd sense of
how women are isolated and restricted by whatever status they have been able to
cultivate. For Elisabeth, the personal is political.
Corsage screened at the Cannes film festival
and is released in UK cinema on 26 December.
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