Mayerling (Anatole Litvak / U.S., 1936):

Tragic romance, though not before hints of espionage to link 19th-century Vienna to unrest entre les deux guerres. Street protests rock the Habsburg regime, among the agitators rounded up is the crown prince (Charles Boyer). A melancholy lad, skull on desk and all, a friend to subversive publications and a regular at decadent dives. "How can someone so high-strung be a dreamer?" The prime minister's snoops are on his trail, he shakes them off at a carnival where he meets the young baroness (Danielle Darrieux). (He comforts her as she weeps at the sad demise of the heroine in a puppet show: "She loved, and she was punished for it.") They next lock eyes across opera balconies, her innocence heals his spiritual ennui, married heir and impressionable debutante waltz on the edge of scandal. The Emperor (Jean Dax) is a disapproving walrus, the Empress (Gabrielle Dorziat) a concerned flamingo. "No one escapes his destiny, my son." A fair approximation of Ophüls lushness by Anatole Litvak, who embroiders every scene with brocades and dances and champagne and violins. (The director of Liebelei returns the compliment with the two stars tellingly reunited for The Earrings of Madame de...) "These fleeting rendezvous, this constant separation," the price of passion in the realm of etiquette. Superimpositions, dissolves, rhythmic cutting, the medium's panoply at the service of Boyer's lidded gaze and Darrieux's alert captivation. Snowy whiteness at the titular lodge contrasts with the couple's darkening lyricism, a ring inscription has it, "réunis dans l'amour jusqu'à la mort." The upshot is Sleeping Beauty reversed for a morbid Prince Charming. Cocteau (The Eagle with Two Heads) and Jancsó (Private Vices, Public Virtues) give the spectrum of subsequent analysis. With Jean Debucourt, Marthe Régnier, Suzy Prim, Andre Dubosc, René Bergeron, Vladimir Sokoloff, Gina Manès, Yolande Laffon, and Odette Talazac. In black and white.

--- Fernando F. Croce

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