Film Review: Mayerling (1936)

The House of Habsburg, once the mightiest dynasty in Europe and the first to command an empire so vast its territories were said to render the sun perpetually above its horizon, collapsed into obscurity with a series of tragic missteps and cataclysms. While its final dissolution is commonly attributed to the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo in 1914—a catalyst for the First World War—the dynasty’s decline was far more protracted, rooted in decades of internal decay and public scandal. Among the most infamous episodes was the 1889 double suicide of Crown Prince Rudolph of Austria and his teenage lover, Baroness Mary Vetsera, at the imperial hunting lodge of Mayerling. This sensational event, occurring a quarter-century before Sarajevo, became a cultural touchstone, igniting fascination across Europe and inspiring writers, playwrights, and filmmakers. Among the earliest cinematic adaptations was Anatole Litvak’s 1936 French period melodrama Mayerling, which transformed the tragedy into a lush, star-studded spectacle, blending historical intrigue with operatic romance.

The film’s narrative is drawn from Jean Schopfer’s 1920 novel Mayerling, written under the pseudonym Claude Anet. Schopfer, a former tennis champion and author of historical fiction, is best remembered for Ariane, Jeune Fille Russe (1920), a novel about a Russian noblewoman’s entanglements in revolutionary politics, which spawned multiple film adaptations. His Mayerling novel, however, focused on the crown prince’s doomed affair, offering a blend of melodrama and political intrigue that Litvak translated effectively onto the screen.

Litvak’s film opens in 1884 Vienna, where radical students clash with the authoritarian regime of Emperor Franz Joseph I (Jean Dax), a figure portrayed as a rigid, emotionally distant monarch. Among the arrested protesters is the emperor’s son and heir, Crown Prince Rudolph (Charles Boyer), whose sympathy for liberal reformers like journalist Count Szeps (René Bergeron) incites the ire of conservative statesman Count Taffe (Jean Debucourt). Rudolph’s reckless lifestyle—marked by excessive drinking, gambling, and womanizing—further strains his relationship with Franz Joseph, who attempts to instill responsibility by arranging a politically advantageous marriage to Stephanie, Princess of Belgium (Yolande Laffon). Though the union is devoid of affection, Rudolph’s roving eye persists, culminating in his fatal attraction to 17-year-old Maria Vetsera (Danielle Darrieux), the daughter of a minor noble. Despite Franz Joseph’s strict orders to end the affair, Rudolph and Maria choose a tragic end: on January 30, 1889, they commit suicide together at Mayerling, leaving behind a legacy of mystery and sorrow.

Mayerling is a quintessential interwar French melodrama, replete with opulent costumes, sweeping sets, and heightened emotional stakes. Litvak, a Russian-Jewish director who later found acclaim in Hollywood with films like The Snake Pit (1948), balances spectacle with intimate drama, reconstructing late-19th-century Vienna with meticulous attention to period detail. The film’s lush production design, including grand ballrooms and meticulously staged waltzes, reflects the decadence of Habsburg excess while underscoring the stifling constraints of imperial protocol.

However, the film’s political complexity is pared down for pacing and accessibility. Litvak condenses the Austro-Hungarian Empire’s intricate power struggles into a streamlined narrative, prioritizing Rudolph’s personal turmoil over the empire’s broader sociopolitical tensions. This simplification, necessitated by a tight 90-minute runtime, allows the story to pivot decisively toward the romantic tragedy in its second half, though it risks reducing the crown prince’s rebellion to mere personal whim rather than a reflection of systemic unrest.

The first half of the film, while visually sumptuous, occasionally drags due to Litvak’s indulgence in musical interludes and ballet sequences. These flourishes, perhaps intended to evoke the era’s cultural vibrancy, feel extraneous and slow the momentum. Such scenes, while visually striking, serve more as filler than narrative drivers, suggesting Litvak’s reliance on spectacle to compensate for narrative gaps.

The film’s success ultimately hinges on its cast. Charles Boyer, though physically dissimilar to the real Rudolph, delivers a compelling performance as a prince torn between hedonism, rebellion, and fatalistic despair. His Rudolph is a tragic figure—charismatic yet self-destructive, yearning for freedom yet shackled by duty. Boyer’s portrayal, blending brooding intensity with moments of vulnerability, cemented his status as an international leading man, transitioning him from European stages to Hollywood stardom.

Equally luminous is 19-year-old Danielle Darrieux as Maria Vetsera. Her portrayal of the innocent, starry-eyed teenager is disarmingly fresh, evoking both naivety and fatal allure. Darrieux’s luminous screen presence—already evident in her debut role—hinted at a career spanning decades.

The film’s most glaring weakness is its lack of historical context. Litvak assumes audiences will intuit the significance of Rudolph’s death as a harbinger of the Habsburgs’ demise, yet modern viewers may miss the broader implications. In 1889, Rudolph was a beloved figure among the empire’s youth, his death sparking conspiracy theories and cult-like devotion in regions like Hungary, where his memory endured until the 1930s. By omitting such nuances, the film reduces the tragedy to a private romance rather than a cultural earthquake. The abrupt ending—Rudolph and Maria’s suicide—feels anticlimactic, a mere footnote to the dynasty’s unraveling, rather than a pivotal moment in European history.

Despite these flaws, Mayerling resonated deeply with 1930s audiences, buoyed by its timely parallels to real-life royal scandals. The film’s release coincided with the Abdication Crisis of King Edward VIII of Britain, whose own romantic entanglement with Wallis Simpson mirrored Rudolph’s defiance of duty. This synchronicity amplified the film’s emotional punch, positioning it as both a historical drama and a commentary on contemporary monarchy. Its success elevated Litvak’s career and launched Darrieux into stardom, while Boyer became a Hollywood icon.

Litvak revisited the story in 1957 with a television remake starring Mel Ferrer and Audrey Hepburn, though the small-screen version lacked the grandeur of its predecessor. A 1968 adaptation by Terence Young, featuring Omar Sharif and Catherine Deneuve, similarly struggled to match the original’s blend of passion and period detail.

Mayerling remains a fascinating artifact of its time—a lush, if imperfect, melodrama that captures the tension between personal desire and political duty. While its historical brevity and pacing issues limit its depth, the film’s emotional core and star performances ensure its enduring appeal. Litvak’s vision, though constrained by studio norms and narrative simplicity, offers a poignant glimpse into the twilight of an empire, where the private choices of a single prince foreshadowed the fall of a global power. The tragedy of Mayerling, as rendered in this film, is not merely a tale of love and suicide but a metaphor for the Habsburgs’ inability to adapt—a dynasty that, like Rudolph, clung to outdated ideals until its final, inevitable collapse.

RATING: 6/10 (++)

Blog in Croatian https://draxblog.com
Blog in English https://draxreview.wordpress.com/
InLeo blog https://inleo.io/@drax.leo

Hiveonboard: https://hiveonboard.com?ref=drax
InLeo: https://inleo.io/signup?referral=drax.leo
Rising Star game: https://www.risingstargame.com?referrer=drax
1Inch: https://1inch.exchange/#/r/0x83823d8CCB74F828148258BB4457642124b1328e

BTC donations: 1EWxiMiP6iiG9rger3NuUSd6HByaxQWafG
ETH donations: 0xB305F144323b99e6f8b1d66f5D7DE78B498C32A7
BCH donations: qpvxw0jax79lhmvlgcldkzpqanf03r9cjv8y6gtmk9