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Courtly splendor: Devrim Lingnau and Philip Froissant in »The Empress«
Photo: Netflix
So who was Sisi then?
The powerful and beautiful Empress of Austria-Hungary, hair down to her heels, loved by the people, misunderstood by her own court because of her irrepressible urge for freedom?
The "Sissi"-written chick from the films of the 1950s, corseted and severely hairstyled, who humbly worships his Emperor Franz and obediently adapts to his wife's role?
Or the child of nature who, in the latest adaptation of myth, the Netflix series »The Empress«, coolly takes aim and shoots a boar that the Tsar of Russia, standing next to her, miserably missed?
Nobody who tunes in to Die Kaiserin will seriously expect an answer to this question.
So rather turn the tables and ask: What do viewers expect when they watch or read a story about Sisi today?
Why is this historical figure suddenly so interesting again that new books are being written about them, new series and films are being made about them?
Or, to put it another way: Is she interesting at all, or do filmmakers and authors only think she is because she reflects developments that have a lot to do with the present but hardly anything to do with the historical figure?
In any case, it can be said that the Netflix series is not very interesting.
This is due to both sides: the expectations that the creators impute to the audience - and their own fury of interpretation, which robs the character of any life of its own and wants to bend her into the standard-bearer of female emancipation.
“Why do people jump at Romy like that?
Because they sense that this is finally a creature that hasn't touched the dirt of the world yet!"
But it's like this: How amazing and horrifying would it be if the view of the myth had
n't
changed in the decades since the Sissi films?
To remind you briefly: With her first film in 1955, Romy Schneider rose more or less overnight to become the biggest German (and Austrian) film star of the post-war period, with a role that changed from the empress to a submissive, adapted, her husband admiring, childish creature harmless in every respect.
Completely in line with the Biedermeier, restorative image of women of the time.
In 1956, SPIEGEL ran a cover story about Romy Schneider, in which her mother Magda, who plays the mother of the empress in the film and whose own career benefited massively from Romy's reputation, was quoted as saying: »Why do people jump on Romy so much? ?
Because they feel that this is finally a creature that has not yet come into contact with the dirt of the world!«.
Unfortunately, Romy Schneider quickly got fed up with miming the innocence of the country and fled to France after the third "Sissi" film, where she rose to the grande dame of author films in the 1970s, self-confident, searching, torn, in any case: deeply and truly felt women played.
In Germany and Austria, this was seen as desertion and betrayal for decades, and Schneider was subjected to a kind of public witch hunt.
That was not so long ago still possible, that was bitter reality.
The well of the past is deep, writes Thomas Mann.
It's more of a shallow puddle in this case, and yet it feels like there are eons between then and now.
This is precisely why the boldness with which Sisi is shown over and over again in »The Empress« as wild, inwardly free, unconventional and self-confident is annoying.
On bare, dirty feet she climbs the imperial throne, kicks the bishop who wants to look up her skirt to confirm her virginity, throws secret parties in the castle, gives freedom to a sweet little bird, blasts through the imperial one on a splendid pony maze and has to say sentences like this: "I hope
The view of contemporary societies on the remains of feudal systems
For long stretches, it seems as if the makers of the series are constantly congratulating themselves on their progressive image of women.
The RTL series "Sisi", which started at Christmas 2021, was much more revealing and wild than the Netflix version.
It also suffers from the fact that the nobility and monarchy are portrayed as backward, while at the same time the pomp and display of power in courtly society are supposed to appear somehow sexy.
The view of today's free societies on the remnants of the feudal systems that dominated Europe for centuries is much more blurred than one would think possible, as was observed on the occasion of the absurdly oversized funeral of Elizabeth II.
»The Empress« insinuates that its audience will also succumb to these stimuli.
Which is why the series wavers indecisively between showing the suffering of the population - there is a half-baked narrative thread about an attempted assassination of Emperor Franz Joseph - and at the same time converting the absolutist ruler into a socio-romantic dreamer.
Because the nobility may have survived, but by no means all are evil in the feudal system, on the contrary: the emperor would rather have new railways for the people than more soldiers for his oppressive army, his Sisi is unironic in romantic love devoted to him, and together shine with the aura of early pop stars.
Who can blame the people for throwing themselves at the ruler's feet?
Maybe at least this series is not as far as its makers seem to think.
»The Crown«, the truly anti-royal series par excellence, shows that things can be done differently.
Here the system still crushes everyone who serves it.
It certainly won't get that far in »The Empress«, even if there were to be a second season.