Wednesday, 11 January 2023

Corsage - Official Trailer | HD | IFC Films / Corsage review – a cry of anger from the pedestal-prison of an empress


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

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2022/may/20/corsage-review-a-cry-of-anger-from-the-pedestal-prison-of-an-empress

 

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.


The assassination of Sissi


Last photograph taken of Elisabeth the day before her death at Territet, Switzerland


In 1898, despite warnings of possible assassination attempts, the sixty-year-old Elisabeth traveled incognito to Geneva, Switzerland. She stayed at the Hôtel Beau-Rivage, where she had been a guest the year before.
At 1:35 p.m. on Saturday, September 10, 1898, Elisabeth and Countess Irma Sztáray de Sztára et Nagymihály, her lady in waiting, left the hotel on the shore of Lake Geneva on foot to catch the steamship Genève for Montreux. Since the Empress did "not like processions," her servants had already been ordered to leave by train for neighboring Territet.
They were walking along the promenade when the 25-year-old Italian anarchist Luigi Lucheni approached them, attempting to peer underneath the Empress's parasol. According to Sztaray, as the ship's bell announced the departure, Lucheni seemed to stumble and made a movement with his hand as if he wanted to maintain his balance. In reality, in an act of "propaganda of the deed", he had stabbed Elisabeth with a 4 inches (100 mm) long sharpened needle file (used to file the eyes of industrial needles) that he had inserted into a wooden handle.




After Lucheni struck her, the Empress collapsed. A coach driver helped her to her feet and alerted the Austrian concierge of the Beau-Rivage, a man named Planner, who had been watching the Empress' progress towards the Geneve. The two women walked roughly 100 yards (91 m) to the gangway and boarded, at which point Sztaray relaxed her hold on Elisabeth's arm. The Empress then lost consciousness and collapsed next to her. Sztaray called for a doctor, but only a former nurse, a fellow passenger, was available. The boat’s captain, Captain Roux, was ignorant of Elisabeth's identity and since it was very hot on deck, advised the Countess to disembark and take her companion back to her hotel. Meanwhile, the boat was already sailing out of the harbor. Three men carried Elisabeth to the top deck and laid her on a bench. Sztaray opened her gown, cut Elisabeth's corset laces so she could breathe. Elisabeth revived somewhat and Sztaray asked her if she was in pain, and she replied, "No". She then asked, "What has happened?" and lost consciousness again.
Countess Sztaray noticed a small brown stain beneath the Empress' left breast. Alarmed that Elisabeth had not recovered consciousness, she informed the captain of her identity, and the boat turned back to Geneva. Elisabeth was carried back to the Hotel Beau-Rivage by six sailors on a stretcher improvised from a sail, cushions and two oars. Fanny Mayer, the wife of the hotel director, a visiting nurse, and the Countess undressed Elisabeth and removed her shoes, when Sztaray noticed a few small drops of blood and a small wound. When they then removed her from the stretcher to the bed she was clearly dead; Frau Mayer believed the two audible breaths she heard the Empress take as she was brought into the room were her last. Two doctors, Dr. Golay and Dr. Mayer arrived, along with a priest, who was too late to grant her absolution. Mayer incised the artery of her left arm to ascertain death, and found no blood. She was pronounced dead at 2:10 p.m. Everyone knelt down and prayed for the repose of her soul, and Countess Sztaray closed Elisabeth's eyes and joined her hands. No matter how reluctant or resentful she was of the title, Elisabeth had been the Empress of Austria for 44 years.
When Franz Joseph received the telegram informing him of Elisabeth's death, his first fear was that she had committed suicide. It was only when a third message arrived, detailing the assassination, that he was relieved of that notion. The telegram asked permission to perform an autopsy, and answer was that whatever procedures were prescribed by Swiss Law should be adhered to.
The autopsy was performed the next day by Golay, who discovered that the weapon, which had not yet been found, had penetrated 3.33 inches (85 mm) into Elisabeth's thorax, fractured the fourth rib, pierced the lung and pericardium, and penetrated the heart from the top before coming out the base of the left ventricle. Because of the sharpness and thinness of the file the wound was very narrow and, due to pressure from Elisabeth's extremely tight corseting, the hemorrhage of blood into the pericardial sac around the heart was slowed to mere drops. Until this sac filled, the beating of her heart was not impeded, which is why Elisabeth had been able to walk from the site of the assault and up the boat’s boarding ramp. Had the weapon not been removed, she would have lived a while longer, as it would have acted like a plug to stop the bleeding.
Golay photographed the wound, but turned the photograph over to the Swiss Procurator-General, who had it destroyed, on the orders of Franz Joseph, along with the autopsy instruments.
As Geneva shuttered itself in mourning, Elisabeth’s body was placed in a triple coffin: two inner ones of lead, the third exterior one in bronze, reposing on lion claws. On Tuesday, before the coffins were sealed, Franz Joseph's official representatives arrived to identify the body. The coffin was fitted with two glass panels, covered with doors, which could be slid back to allow her face to be seen.
On Wednesday morning, Elisabeth's body was carried back to Vienna aboard a funeral train. The inscription on her coffin read: “Elisabeth, Empress of Austria”. The Hungarians were outraged and the words: “and Queen of Hungary” were hastily added. The entire Austro-Hungarian Empire was in deep mourning; 82 sovereigns and high-ranking nobles followed her funeral cortege on the morning of September 17 to the tomb in the Church of the Capuchins. Elisabeth, who fled protocol all her life, was unable to escape it in death. Like all 15 Hapsburg Empresses before her, her body was buried in the crypt, but her heart was sent to the Augustinian Church, where she was married, and her internal organs were placed in the crypt of the Metropolitan Church of Saint Stephen





A former mason, railway laborer and former valet to the Prince of Aragon, Lucheni originally planned to kill the Duc d'Orleans, but the Pretender to France’s throne had left Geneva earlier for the Valais. Failing to find him, the assassin selected Elisabeth when a Geneva newspaper revealed that the elegant woman traveling under the pseudonym of "Countess of Hohenembs" was the Empress Elisabeth of Austria.
"I am an anarchist by conviction...I came to Geneva to kill a sovereign, with object of giving an example to those who suffer and those who do nothing to improve their social position; it did not matter to me who the sovereign was whom I should kill...It was not a woman I struck, but an Empress; it was a crown that I had in view.

After the attack, Lucheni fled down the Rue des Alpes, where he threw the file into the entrance to No. 3. He was caught by two cabdrivers and a sailor, then secured by a gendarme. The weapon was found the next day by the concierge during his morning cleaning; he thought it belonged to a laborer who had moved the day before and did not notify the police of his discovery until the following day. There was no blood on the file and the tip was broken off, which occurred when Lucheni threw it away. The file was so dull in appearance it was speculated that it had been deliberately selected because it would be less noticeable than a shiny knife, which would have given Lucheni away as he approached. In reality, Lucheni had planned to purchase a stiletto, but lacking the price of 12 francs he had simply sharpened an old file into a homemade dagger and cut down a piece of firewood into a handle.
Although Lucheni boasted that he acted alone, because many political refugees found a haven in Switzerland the possibility that he was part of a plot, and that the life of the Emperor was also in danger, was considered. Once it was discovered an Italian was responsible for Elisabeth's murder, unrest swept Vienna and reprisals were threatened against Italians. The intensity of shock, mourning and outrage far exceeded that which occurred at the news of Rudolf's death. An outcry also immediately erupted over the Empress’ lack of protection. The Swiss police were well aware of her presence, and telegrams to the appropriate authorities advising them to take all precautions had been dispatched. Police Chief Virieux of the Canton of Vaud had organized Elisabeth's protection, but she had detected his officers outside the hotel the day before the assassination and protested that the surveillance was disagreeable, so Virieux had no choice but to withdraw them. It is also possible that if Elisabeth had not dismissed her other attendants that day, an entourage larger than one lady-in-waiting could have discouraged Lucheni, who had been following the Empress for several days, awaiting an opportunity.
Lucheni was brought before the Geneva Court in October. Furious that the death sentence had been abolished in Geneva, he demanded that he be tried according to the laws of the Canton of Lucerne, which still had the death penalty, signing the letter: “Luigi Lucheni, anarchist, and one of the most dangerous."
Since Elisabeth was famous for preferring the common man to courtiers, known for her charitable works, and considered such a blameless target, Lucheni's sanity was initially questioned. Elisabeth's will stipulated that a large part of her jewel collection should be sold and the proceeds, then estimated at over £600,000, were to be applied to various religious and charitable organizations. Franz Joseph remarked to Prince Leichtenstein, who was the couple's devoted equerry, "That a man could be found to attack such a woman, whose whole life was spent in doing good and who never injured any person, is to me incomprehensible". Everything outside of the crown jewels and state property that Elisabeth had the power to bequeath was left to her granddaughter, the Archduchess Elisabeth, Rudolf's child.
Lucheni was declared to be sane, but was tried as a common murderer, not a political criminal. Incarcerated for life, and denied the opportunity to make a political statement by his action, he attempted to kill himself with the sharpened key from a tin of sardines on February 20, 1900. Ten years later, he hanged himself with his belt in his cell on the evening of October 16, 1910, after a guard confiscated and destroyed his uncompleted memoirs.




Sissi ... Mythos and Truth.

’Sisi – Mythos and Truth. Empress Elisabeth of Austria’is the title of the exhibition opened in the Britz Palace in Neukölln, Berlin. The display is not meant to give a comprehensive summary of the life of Sisi, rather it is themed around the typical features and habits of the Empress that the public attributed to her then and now, many of which are proven here to be false beliefs. Sisi was regarded as one of the most beautiful women of her time, therefore it was evident that a considerable part of the exhibition should be dedicated to beauty treatments, body culture, clothes and of course the numerous ways of depicting Elizabeth, including period photographs. The exhibition, born under the curatorship of Katrin Unterreiner, also reveals the truth behind the different legendary stories attached to the name of Sisi. For example, there are receipts to prove that the Empress was not fasting in order to keep her slim figure. Visitors can try out the various cosmetics that Sisi used, thanks to a Viennese pharmacy who applied the original recipes to reproduce them. Movies made about Sisi are also on show at the Britz Palace: to mention only the most popular one, the trilogy with Romy Schneider as Sisi, which has probably contributed at least as much to the Sisi-cult as she herself did. Besides several public and private collections from Austria, Germany and Switzerland, the Gödöllő Royal Palace has also borrowed valuable Sisi-items to the exhibition: a bust of Elizabeth from 1854 made by F. Halbig; a wooden box decorated with the Bavarian crest; and Sisi’s mirrored chest of drawers, which she used when staying in the Hungarian town. The Gödöllő Town Museum also gave a black lace stole from their collection. One of Elisabeth's formal court mourning dresses with 19"(50cm) waistline. Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna Sissi Gym Anorexia Nervosa At 5 feet 8 inches (1m72), Elisabeth was unusually tall (she topped her husband by an inch or two), yet even after a total of four pregnancies she kept her weight at almost 110 pounds (50kg) for her entire life. She achieved this through fasting and excessive exercise. Today her actions would be recognized as classic signs of the eating disorder anorexia nervosa. There are a several elements in Elisabeth's life that fit common patterns seen in anorectic patients. She was strongly attached to her parents, especially to her mother, and was still a child in search of an identity of her own when an adult role with unusual obligations and restrictions was imposed upon her. She had no control in her new life and was unable to identify herself as both the spouse of the emperor and a young mother. As a result she attempted to recreate her childhood with its lack of obligations. The only quality for which she felt herself appreciated, and over which she had control, was her physical appearance, so she started cultivating this as the primary source of her self-esteem. Obsessively achievement-oriented and almost compulsively perfectionistic in her attitudes, she became a literal slave to her own beauty and image. In deep mourning after her daughter's death, Elisabeth refused to eat for days; a behavior that would appear in later periods of melancholy and depression. Whereas she previously had supper with the family, she now began to avoid this; and if she did eat with them, she ate quickly and very little. Whenever her weight threatened to exceed fifty kilos, a "fasting cure" or "hunger cure" would follow, which involved almost complete fasting. Meat itself often filled her with disgust, so she either had the juice of half-raw beefsteaks squeezed into a thin soup, or else adhered to a diet of milk and eggs. Elisabeth emphasised her extreme slenderness through the practice of "tight-lacing". During the peak period of 1859-60, which coincided with Franz-Joseph's political and military defeats in Italy, her sexual withdrawal from her husband after three pregnancies in rapid succession, and her losing battle with her mother-in-law for dominance in rearing her children, she reduced her waist to 16 inches in diameter. Corsets of the time were split-busk types, fastening up the front with hooks and eyes, but Elisabeth had more rigid, solid-front ones made in Paris out of leather, "like those of Parisian courtesans", probably to hold up under the stress of such strenuous lacing, "a proceeding which sometimes took quite an hour". The fact that "she only wore them for a few weeks" may indicate that even leather proved inadequate for her needs. Elisabeth's defiant flaunting of this exaggerated dimension angered her mother-in-law, who expected her to be continuously pregnant. Although on her return to Vienna in August 1862 (after her fourth pregnancy) a lady-in-waiting reported that “she eats properly, sleeps well, and does not tight-lace anymore”,[16] her clothing from this time until her death still measured only 18 1/2 - 19 1/2 inches at the waist, which prompted the the Prince of Hesse to describe her as “almost inhumanly slender.”[17] She developed a horror of fat women and transmitted this attitude to her youngest daughter, who was terrified when, as a little girl, she first met Queen Victoria. In her youth Elisabeth followed the fashions of the age, which for many years were cage-crinolined hoop skirts. But when fashion began to change, she was at the forefront of abandoning the hoop skirt for a tighter and leaner silhouette. She disliked both expensive accoutrements and the protocol that dictated constant changes of clothing, preferring simple, monochromatic riding habit-like attire. She never wore petticoats or any other "underlinen", as they added bulk, and was often literally sewn into her clothes, to bypass waistbands, creases and wrinkles and further emphasize the "wasp waist" that became her hallmark. The Empress developed extremely rigorous, almost Spartan, exercise habits. Every castle she lived in was equipped with a gymnasium: the Knights' Hall of the Hofburg was converted into one, mats and balance beams were installed in her bedchamber so that she could practice on them each morning, and the imperial villa at Ischl was fitted with gigantic mirrors so that she could correct every movement and position. She took up fencing in her 50's with equal discipline. A fervent horsewoman, she rode every day for hours on end, becoming probably the world's best, as well as best-known, female equestrian. When due to gout she could no longer endure long hours in the saddle, she substituted walking, subjecting her attendants to interminable marches and hiking tours in all weather. In the last years of her life, Elisabeth became even more restless and obsessive, weighing herself up to three times day. She regularly took steam baths to prevent weight gain; by 1894 she had wasted away to near emaciation, reaching her lowest point of 95.7 lbs (43.5kg). This is even more disturbing since some of that weight was undoubtedly due to fluid retention; at her death she was found to have suffered from starvation edema. She was tormented by hunger but if pressed to eat more, she became very tense and irritable. There were some aberrations in Elisabeth's diet that appear to be signs of binge eating, a hallmark of bulemia, a binge/purge eating disorder that is closely assocated with anorexia nervosa. On one occasion in 1878 the Empress astonished her travelling companions when she unexpectedly visited a restaurant incognito, where she drank champagne, ate a broiled chicken, an Italian salad, and finished with a "considerable quantity of cake". She may have satisfied her urge to binge in secret on other occasions; in 1881 she purchased an English country house and had a spiral staircase built from her living room into the kitchen, so that she could access it in private. The Cult of Beauty In addition to her draconian exercise regimes Elisabeth practised what could be called a true beauty cult, but one that was highly ascetic, solitary, and prone to bizarre, eccentric and almost mystic routines. Daily care of her abundant and extremely long hair, which in the time turned from the dark blonde of her youth to chestnut brown, took at least three hours. Her hair was so long and heavy that she often complained the weight of the elaborate double braids and pins gave her headaches. Her hairdresser, Franziska (Fanny) Feifalik, was originally a stage hairdresser at the Wiener Burgtheater; responsible for all Elisabeth's ornate hairstyles, she always accompanied her on her wanderings. Faifalek was forbidden to wear rings and required to wear white gloves; after hours of dressing, braiding and pinning up the Empress' tresses, the hairs that fell out had to be presented in a silver bowl to her reproachful Empress for inspection. When her hair was washed with special "essences" of eggs and cognac once every two weeks, all activities and obligations were cancelled for that day. Before her son's death Feifaluk was tasked with tweezing gray hairs away, but at the end of her life her hair was described as "abundant, though streaked with silver threads." Elisabeth used these captive hours to learn languages; she spoke fluent English and French, and added modern Greek to her Hungarian studies. Her Greek tutor described the ritual: “Hairdressing takes almost two hours, she said, and while my hair is busy, my mind stays idle. I am afraid that my mind escapes through the hair and onto the fingers of my hairdresser. Hence my headache afterwards. The Empress sat at a table which was moved to the middle of the room and covered with a white cloth. She was shrouded in a white, laced peignoir, her hair, unfastened and reaching to the floor, enfolded her entire body.” Unlike other women of her time, Elisabeth used little cosmetics or perfume, as she wished to showcase her "natural" beauty, but she tested countless beauty products produced in the court pharmacy, or prepared by a lady-in-waiting in her own apartments, to preserve it. Although one favorite, "Crème Céleste", was compounded from white wax, spermaceti, sweet almond oil and rosewater; she attached far less importance to creams and emolients, and experimented with a wide variety of facial tonics and waters from which she apparently expected more results. Elisabeth slept without a pillow on a metal bedstead, all the better to retain her upright posture, with either raw veal or crushed strawberries lining her nightly leather facial mask.[26] She was heavily massaged and often slept with cloths soaked in either violet- or cider-vinegar above her hips, to preserve her slim waist and wrapped her neck with cloths soaked in Kummerfeld-toned washing water. To further preserve her skin tone, she took both a cold shower every morning (which in later years aggravated her arthritis) and an olive oil bath in the evening. Owing to poor dental care in her youth, her teeth were remarked on as being "the sole flaw in her beauty" and either malnutrition or the possible effects of bulemia caused a striking deterioration in their appearance. This, combined with the roughened skin that was the inevitable result of hours in the saddle, exposed to sun and wind, caused her to hide her face behind a small leather fan. After age 32, she did not sit for any more portraits, and would not allow any photographs of her to be taken, so that her public image of the eternal beauty was not challenged. The few pictures that were taken without her knowledge show a woman that was “graceful, but almost too slender”. Sisi’s beauty formulas The imperial anti-aging-pioneer Elisabeth’s beauty-case also contained some rather quaint remedies, yet some are the basis for modern medical products. by INGRID TEUFL Strawberry cream, veal or slug slime: the range for beauty care was already substantial in the 18th and 19th century. “Many of the products used are in principle not bad for the skin”, says university professor Jolanta Schmidt, head of the cosmetic medical department at the Vienna General Hospital. The new book “Rosebud and Slug Slime” (“Rosenblüte und Schneckenschleim”) shows ingredients still reliable today, as well as bizarre quack remedies. The individual beauty formulas of the Habsburgs and also of Sisi are partially printed in the original. And yet, even dermatologist Schmidt would keep her hands off mixing her own Crème à la Sisi. Some creams have to be stirred for twelve hours. “Who has that much time on their hands nowadays?” Instead she recommends a “care matching the individual type” made by family physician, pharmacist or chemist. However, the expert most urgently advises against certain supplementary substances like lead and mercury. They are illegal in today’s beauty products. From 1850 these heavy metals were used against pigmentary abnormality, moles and freckles, because they were attributed a desiccative effect. They are in fact toxic and, amongst other things, damage the brain. Slug slime, which used to be a popular addition to facial creams, is also long obsolete. No effect can be confirmed by the doctor. But Sisi’s beloved strawberry cream and the fresh fruit facial mask anticipate the effects of modern fruit acid. “The high vitamin C and B ratio act antibacterially, slightly lifting and invigorating”, according to Schmidt. And: “strawberries can bind heavy metals.” Overall, Sisi placed great emphasis on natural products that were freshly prepared. Make-up, too, was completely rejected by the fair aristocrat and deemed to be an interference with nature. “That is why I do not think that she would have undergone surgery” says the dermatologist. Raw veal, which Elisabeth applied to her face during the night, is deemed by Schmidt to be “not half bad”. The high vitamin C content has an anti-inflammatory effect, the muscle protein element, keratin, acts against skin ageing. Moreover, the meat gives the skin a fresh look and neutralises harmful metabolites (free radicals). Bathing in olive oil was supposed to make Sisi’s skin smooth. The wholesome effect is still considered beneficial today. Schmidt: “It is primarily a captor of free radicals and contains vitamins A and E which have a positive effect on skin.” Also, aluminium bathing water and powders were supposed to restrain perspiration. Schmidt confirms this. “At the department we use aluminium salts for excessive perspiration, too.” Sisi Museum Vienna Hofburg Since 1994 the Sisi Museum has been housed in the Stephan apartments, so named after Archduke Stephan Viktor. Here numerous personal items that once belonged to Elisabeth are used to help illustrate the true personality of the frequently misunderstood Empress. The sensitively designed exhibits, created by renowned set designer Prof. Rolf Langenfass, are inspired by the monarch's poetry and illustrate how the once light-hearted young girl, Sisi, became a restless, unapproachable and melancholic woman. The more than 300 items on display in the museum include parasols, boxes and gloves which once belonged to the anthrophobic Elisabeth, along with her beauty recipes, her death mask and the actual file used in her assassination, which is usually kept securely under lock and key. Further items include a reconstruction of the evening dress worn by 16 year old Sisi in 1854 before she left her home in Munich, and a replica of a section of her imperial railway carriage. In 2006 the SKB bought the so-called Klauda Collection of approximately 240 items. Elisabeth's travelling medical chest, her games case, a wash set and other items from the collection now feature in the exhibition. Other objects, such as her christening robes and milk tooth, are only displayed on special occasions. In 2009, after 5 years in service and having welcomed over 3 million visitors, the Sisi Museum was closed for renovation and partial remodelling. The display was extended to include some spectacular exhibits, including the reconstructed Hungarian coronation dress, the black coat used to cover Elisabeth after the assassination, mourning jewellery and the young Sisi on her swing.

Sunday, 8 January 2023

THE QUIET GIRL | Official UK trailer [HD] In Cinemas & Exclusively On Curzon Home Cinema 13 May


Review

The Quiet Girl review – deeply moving tale of rural Ireland already feels like a classic

 

A silent child is sent away to live with foster parents on a farm in this gem of a film from first-time feature director Colm Bairéad

 

Peter Bradshaw

@PeterBradshaw1

Wed 11 May 2022 11.00 BST

https://www.theguardian.com/film/2022/may/11/the-quiet-girl-review-beauty-and-pain-in-rural-ireland

 

This beautiful and compassionate film from first-time feature director Colm Bairéad, based on the novella Foster by Claire Keegan, is a child’s-eye look at our fallen world; already it feels to me like a classic. There’s a lovely scene in which the “quiet girl” of the title, 10-year-old Cáit (played by newcomer Catherine Clinch), is reading Heidi before bedtime, and this movie, for all its darkness and suppressed pain, has the solidity, clarity and storytelling gusto of that old-fashioned Alpine children’s tale – about the little girl sent away to live in a beautiful place with her grandfather.

 

The setting is the early 80s, in a part of County Waterford where Irish is mostly spoken (subtitled in English). Cáit is a withdrawn little kid, one of many siblings, always wandering off on her own over the farmland: the opening shot of her is a deception of sorts, hinting at a chilling destiny. Cáit is often wide-eyed, silent and watchful, to the irritation of her exhausted and now once-again heavily pregnant mother (Kate Nic Chonaonaigh) and her thuggish, abusive and hungover dad (Michael Patric). Naturally without telling Cáit or being mindful of her feelings in any way, her parents decide they need a break from looking after her and pack the girl off for the summer to her mother’s cousin Eibhlín (Carrie Crowley) and her taciturn farmer husband Seán (Andrew Bennett), whose vastly more prosperous and better-run smallholding infuriates Cáit’s sullen dad when he drives up in his car to drop her off. He can hardly summon the good manners to make conversation before getting back in his car to drive back home and in his boorish haste, he has a lapse of memory which is to have serious consequences for Cáit’s new life.

 

Crowley and Bennett give heart-wrenchingly excellent performances as the unhappy, childless couple who have taken Cáit in: particularly Crowley as Eibhlín, a well-bred, intelligent, elegant woman who is brightly engaged with the child as no one has ever been in her life. But Cáit is quick to understand that they have a “secret”, which her sneering father already seems to know about.

 

 

As this long, hot summer progresses with the endlessness of childhood, Kate McCullough’s superb cinematography and Emma Lowney’s production design create a magically beautiful new world for Cáit to feel at once threatened and exalted by: almost every shot is a vividly composed, painterly gem. Above all, there is a mysterious artificial rainwater pond in surrounding woodland which Eibhlín says has supernatural powers. A vinegary tang of black comedy and cynicism is provided by neighbour Úna (a terrific performance from Joan Sheehy) who looks after Cáit one afternoon and brutally tells the girl all about what her foster parents aren’t telling her – and Bairéad cleverly allows you to suspect that Eibhlín wanted Úna to shoulder the awful burden of revealing this. Cáit’s quietness is perhaps the quietness of an abuse victim, or perhaps the quietness of a clever person who knows that not talking is the way to survive. As Seán tells her: “Many’s the person missed the opportunity to say nothing.” And when Cáit returns home, it is her failure to obey this golden rule, and blurting out the phrase “nothing happened”, which is to cause a new stab of pain.

 

In another kind of movie, a lazier kind, all this stillness and rural beauty, seen by an enigmatically silent child who is accustomed to vanishing invisibly into the landscape, would be the ominous foretaste of something horrible or violent to come just before the final credits. But The Quiet Girl is doing something gentler than this, as well as realer and truer. It is a jewel.

 

 The Quiet Girl is released on 13 May in cinemas and on Curzon Home Cinema.

 

 This article was amended on 11 May 2022 to correct the primary location of the film’s story, which is County Waterford.