Corsage (2022)

I watched Corsage in Kino International without English subtitles. I was wandering around on a boring Sunday trying to find a film to watch, and didn’t notice that it didn’t have subtitles, DF. Kino International might be the cinema that I wanted to visit, but something was withholding me for a long time. Maybe because it looks so classic and I was feeling that I might not be able to follow some manners. But this film was a good fit for the special visit. The average age of the audience was a bit more than 60. Not sure if it was just a coincidence or if the film was a period drama that didn’t attract the youth. Or, maybe the film audience is aging anyways, the senescent seventh art… Conversely, the feminist and queer perspective of the film was really fresh and contemporary. It was unlike the period dramas I had watched before.

Watching films in a language I don’t understand always reminds me of the short interview with Jim Jarmusch in a car where he talks about how he likes watching films in languages that he doesn’t understand. I haven’t seen many, but the last one I remember was Dolan’s Matthias et Maxime (2019). I had hoped it would include enough English dialogues to understand, aber nie, almost no English at all. Still, I could track the emotions and the plot roughly. The same happened with Corsage, but I still enjoyed it. Plus, Sisi was speaking maybe four or five languages fluently in the film. Which I also don’t understand most of the time.

Wikipedia time. Duchess Elisabeth Amalie Eugenie in Bavaria, also called Sisi/Sissi was first the Duchess of Bavaria, then the Empress of Austria, and even Queen of Hungary for some time. She’s famous for many things: her looks and physical regimen, the Mayerling incident, and her assassination. There are also a lot of plays, films, and tv series dedicated to her: Sternberg, Cocteau, and Visconti are the first names who worked around her story. The most popular films are probably the ones from the 50s, starring Romy Schneider. The IMDB trivia mentions that there were five Austrian/German productions about her life only during the year 2021. Not following a committed biopic storyline, Corsage focuses on only one year of her life in 1877. The camera intentionally excludes many aspects of the public and formal life and instead focuses on private life.

The best thing about the film was the acting and the depth of the character, Sisi. The film opens with a suspenseful scene where Sisi holds her breath in a bathtub for quite a long time. I read some critics reading it as a metaphor for the film. It’s a character study about the struggles around psychology on the one hand, but it’s more about the societal structure that squeezes the character, even if she’s a Duchess. Melancholy. Thinking of it together with the film title, corsage, the film’s perspective towards the character is pretty clear. Sisi had many touching moments in the film, such as waking her daughter in the middle of the night to go for a horse ride, lying down on the bed of an injured soldier while visiting the army in the emergency room and sharing cigarettes with him, the final dance scene where her beard grows out of nowhere or the drug scenes in general.

While saying the ‘best thing,’ I forgot the other best thing: hearing Camille. Incidentally, it’ll be the second Dolan-related reference in the short text, but after encountering Camille with Paris and Tout dit and loving her songs, I fell in love with her opening song, Home Is Where It Hurts, in Dolan’s Juste la fin du monde (2016). It’s still one of my favorites. In Corsage, another song of her is used, “She was“. I thought the way the song is employed in the film was similar to Juste la fin du monde. Very high and ecstasizing the audience in just the correct scene. 💚 for Camille.

Vicky Krieps talks about her preparations for the film in an interview (from Cannes?), mentioning the training for horse riding, fencing, learning enough Hungarian, and ice swimming. While watching the film, I was impressed by the range of sports activities that Sisi was doing. She also elucidates how the idea of the film arose with her mentioning the idea to make a film about Elisabeth to Marie Kreutzer. I’ll try to redact the second part of the interview where she mentions how the film was born out of her childhood:

The idea comes from me. Because I saw these Romy Schneider movies when I was a little girl. And because in my household it was all about Janis Joplin and I was not allowed to watch princess movies… It was very exciting when I could go to my neighbor and watch princess movies, which was Sisi. So I loved them as a little girl. And when I was 14, I read the biography. And reading the biography, I thought, 14, I was too naive to really understand but it was enough to leave me with this enigma and like the puzzled about why was the woman like this? Why was she building the first fitness machines? Why was she not taking pictures? What was the problem? Or was she crazy, or you know… So when I worked in Vienna with Marie Kreutzer, seven years back, I said ‘Why is no one making a movie about Sisi, you know like a real one’? Because, 14, I had a feeling … some kind of mystery around the image we all have… And she laughed at me, she was like ‘hahaha, no, no one will do that, it’s kitch it’s not interesting’. And I said ‘really? Because, you know, when I read, young girl, I thought it was, it was’. And then nothing. And then, three years later … That’s really woman power. Without a word, without a bla bla… I get a finished script in my postbox, with a postcard saying: ‘Well I did go to the archive then, and you were right.’

Die innere Sicherheit (2000)

What can I say, she’s walking away
From what we’ve seen
What can I do, still loving you
It’s all a dream
How can we hang on to a dream
How can it, will it be, the way it seems
— How Can We Hang on to a Dream, Tim Hardin (OST)

This is the earliest film I’ve seen from Petzold, made in 2000. It’s also the first of his ‘Ghosts’ Trilogy together with Gespenster (2005) and Yella (2007). Letterboxd shows eight more films from the director before this; some are short films. While the direct translation of ‘Die Innere Sicherheit’ is something like ‘Internal Security’, the English title of the film is ‘The State I am In’. At first, I thought the political connotation is lost in translation but then noticed ‘the state’. I remember trying to mention the film during a German class to the teacher the day after I watched it. Just instantly, she ridiculed me for the title I tried to pronounce. I thought the name evoked an example of the cheap crime fiction movies in the teacher’s mind. Maybe it was something different; I don’t know; I couldn’t say anything other than the film’s name in German, and I still can’t. Anyway, the IMDb has 2.6k votes for the film now, so I don’t expect to include the film in a daily conversation anymore.

It’s a ‘crime’ fiction where the crime is long gone. Jeanne and her parents run away from the police and the state due to their probably illegal leftist/terrorist background. In the plot, RAF is explicitly mentioned, but it’s not explicitly stated in the film. Probably, it’s an easy guess for the people who know the background.). The film opens with the family hiding in Portugal, and then they return to Germany hoping to fly somewhere they can feel safe again. They try to find money from ex-comrades or a hidden trove. When those don’t pay off, they try to rob a bank.

Around this story of running away, the film focuses on Jeanne. The adolescent daughter of the family becomes a fugitive at an early age. She’s out of the regular school education, learning a new language, and doing some translations, probably because she might need them soon. Her family buys or steals pretty oldskool and childish clothes -a loose yellow sweater with a bee on it- to her which makes her embarrassed. But she still has a solid love and trust in her parents. She’s in, with them. As a youngster en route, she has encounters with others, ones that compel her. She meets with a broke surfer guy who loves Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys and falls in love with him. She stumbles a girl, the daughter of one of his parents, who listens to cool music and wears a blue t-shirt having ‘Diego Maradona’ on it. A couple of scenes later, Jeanne steals a blue t-shirt. Frances Meh captures Petzold’s interest in Jeanne, her family, and other characters in his films in a short comment on the film: “… you know it’s a Petzold joint. He just can’t turn his eye away from people in liminal states.”

Taking the family’s political history and the transformation of their ex-comrades as a backdrop, the film primarily focuses on Jeanne’s hardships while growing up in this constant fear and disguise. She acts way older than her actual age due to the circumstances which do not let her live like her peers. Sharing cigarettes and starting a conversation looks like to only way for her to socialize with strangers. She does the shopping, takes her role if there’s a secret plan, or even finds shelter for the family when necessary. At times, she says that she’s sick of everything. Falling in love also lets her guard down.

The film has some silent but striking scenes like Jeanne sitting at the table next to her mother with the money they stole; or the painful melodramatic breakup with the surfer guy -sorry I forgot his name- that was similar to Turkish melodramas – “I never loved you, you’re a pathetic and disgusting person”. Not to spoil it, I would avoid the intense final scene. But there was an even more interesting scene that stuck in my mind. While the family was running away on the empty highway, they stop for a moment at the traffic lights, and they start to suspect the movements of others. One guy gets out of the car to take a look around, there seem to be some other cars following the family. Jeanne’s father thinks they’re busted, gets out, and surrenders. Suddenly, when the lights turn light, everyone minds their own business. They hadn’t even noticed the runaway family. Maybe connected to Petzold’s interest in ‘ghosts’, this scene underlines the anxiety of running away together with being a ghost or nobody.

or

“This fraught drama about an ex-Red Army Faction-style couple, still on the run with their teenage daughter, doesn’t use a single flashback to narrate their past. The tension apparent in every frame speaks of the unseen state forces whose ‘domestic security’ was—and remains—their mortal opponent.” (Hertäg, 2022)

I wanted to take this long quote from Max Nelson in Film Comment which documents the opening scene because I also listened to one of Petzold’s interviews where he argues that in the first two minutes, the film’s morality shows itself:

“The first two minutes of The State I Am In go a long way towards explaining Petzold’s methods and intentions in the trilogy. A young girl with blonde, wind-tossed hair—eyes downcast, lips set in a natural frown—gets change at a seaside bar, strolls over to the jukebox, and puts on an American pop song (“How Can We Hang On to a Dream?” by Tim Hardin). The camera hovers on her shoulder, lingering over the curve of her neck, then pulls back slightly to follow her as she saunters with studied casualness towards an empty table. (“What can I say,” the singer asks plaintively: “she’s walking away…”) She glances off-camera, casts her eyes back down, lights a cigarette, and sits silently for another twenty seconds, lost in thought. Her eyes barely move; her mind is busy turning over invisible possibilities, considering options, and reflecting on a past to which we don’t yet have access. When she looks back up, Petzold cuts to a shot from her eyeline of a handful of surfers chatting at the other end of the dock, and her desire finally connects, in our mind, with an object. But it’s in those previous twenty seconds, I would argue, that she comes alive to us. For a moment, her desire seems to exist outside of, or prior to, the narrative that is about to be constructed around it. It would be hard to count the number of times over the course of the trilogy that Petzold films a young woman sitting alone like this, planning what kind of movie she wants to inhabit.”


Hertäg, J. (2022, May/June). Germany’s Counter-Cinemas. New Left Review, 135. https://newleftreview.org/issues/ii135/articles/julia-hertag-germany-s-counter-cinemas