Corsage

Corsage is a rewarding, sometimes over-insistent portrait of a woman who has grown tired of being an empress. Marie Kreutzer writes and directs with an interest in Elisabeth’s bad temper that makes the film more engaging than a respectful account of royal unhappiness. Vicky Krieps gives Empress Elisabeth enough amusement and self-absorption to prevent her becoming a model victim. We recommend it, provided a restless central character matters more to you than a fast-moving story.

The performance is the reason to stay. Vicky Krieps can suggest that Elisabeth knows how absurd her circumstances are without making her seem untouched by them. The regal composure remains legible even when irritation begins to show, and the amused expression does not make her easy company. We laughed at that expression, because she looks so unwilling to reward the people around her with the graciousness they expect. Her loneliness becomes more affecting because the film allows her to be difficult.

Judith Kaufmann’s cinematography gives the period beauty a severity that suits this performance. The images let us appreciate the royal surroundings without suggesting that Elisabeth ought to be satisfied with them. Martin Reiter’s production design contributes to an impression of grandeur that has become tiresome to inhabit. Monika Buttinger’s costumes are especially effective at making elegance seem demanding. The clothes look like things in which being observed matters more than being comfortable.

The deliberate modern touches are less consistently useful. Marie Kreutzer is entitled to depart from a solemn historical portrait, and the playfulness gives the film some welcome bite. At times, though, the insistence on making Elisabeth feel close to us becomes too apparent, as if an audience could not recognise frustration without encouragement. Vicky Krieps has already made the connection through her performance. The film is funniest when it leaves her room to be sour.

Ulrike Kofler’s editing accepts the risk of lingering with a dissatisfied person, and mostly justifies it. A quicker film might have less room for the small shifts in Elisabeth’s manner that make her interesting. There are stretches, however, when the pace slackens without revealing much more about her; the 114 minutes do not all feel necessary. Camille’s music helps keep the film from settling into polite solemnity. Neither the editing nor the score can quite disguise the occasions when the writing circles a point we have already understood.

As a costume drama, Corsage benefits from allowing its central figure to be selfish without rushing to excuse her. Elisabeth’s privilege does not disappear because she resents its conditions, and Marie Kreutzer leaves room for us to find her exasperating. We are not required to approve of her at every moment. That makes the attention to her unhappiness more convincing, even when the film seems a little too pleased with its own irreverence.

Watch it for Vicky Krieps, with a little patience for the passages where the film catches up with her. There is no need to approve of Elisabeth to enjoy spending time with her. Anyone requiring gracious behaviour from royalty should make other arrangements.