German King Ludwig II of
Bavaria, often known as the enigmatic Swan King or Fairy Tale King, remains one
of world history’s most eccentric, peculiar, fascinating and possibly truly
madcap political figures of our time.
Having taken office when he was only eighteen, the Bavarian King is
something of a tragic, almost childlike figure of endless scrutiny throughout
human history. Rather than address his
designated official duties and deal with state affairs and other governing
obligations, King Ludwig II instead devoted his attentions to providing a
financial safety net to composer Richard Wagner as well as the commissioning of
outlandishly extravagant architectural projects including the lavish
Neuschwanstein Castle and four others.
Self-indulgent to a monumental
extreme not seen since the creation of Michael Jackson’s Neverland Ranch,
Ludwig II came dangerously close to bankrupting Bavaria as there seemed to be
no end in sight to his spending on castles and cathedrals for no other reason
than his own occasional paranoid promenades through the empty hallways. Something had to be done and eventually
fellow congressmen conspired to use his spending and deteriorating physical and
mental health as a declaration of his insanity and inability to govern state
affairs, an accusation as mercurial and uncertain as his eventual death by way
of drowning.
Through a most unusual twist
of fate, those very castles which nearly destroyed the Bavarian economy now
represent the country’s most popular and lucrative tourist attractions from all
over the world. Inevitably, this still
enigmatic genius/madman/man-child of a “king” became the subject of many
literary, musical and cinematic adaptations attempting to dramatize the
mysterious figure’s life, including two silent films from Germany and six more
films ranging from 1955 to 2012. The
longest running and most comprehensive cinematic biography of the mysterious
king to date is arguably the great Italian maestro Luchino Visconti’s sprawling
and grandiose epic 235 minute 1972 epic, Ludwig,
now being released in a boxed set courtesy of Arrow Video in a brand new 4K
restoration.
As with his prior work, the film is a sprawling mixture of Italian neorealism and opulent romanticism, serving as a perfect backdrop for the Bavarian King to meander, indulge and sink further into delirium. For the great director
behind the Palme d’Or winning The Leopard,
Ludwig represented the final
installment of his loosely connected German
Trilogy, beginning with The Damned and
Death in Venice while also showcasing
his leading actor/lover Helmut Berger as the titular mad Bavarian King. Opposite Berger is veteran
Visconti actress Romy Schneider as Ludwig’s distant cousin Empress Elisabeth of
Austria, sharing his lofty romantic notions while not blind to his increasingly
erratic withdrawal from rationality.
Also a key figure in the proceedings is English actor Trevor Howard as
the arrogant yet prominent composer Wagner, though as with many Italian
productions some will find his dialogue dubbed over in Italian to be somewhat
disconcerting.
Utilizing the real locations
the legendary King commissioned, the film is at once a scenic travelogue
chronicling the gradual creation of the architectural wonders while stylizing
the King’s simultaneous swan dive into increasingly wretched sensual excess
while evoking his ever growing isolation.
A most telling scene follows the aftermath of what appears to be a gay
orgy in an oversized, almost fantastical treehouse of sorts with half-naked men
sleeping around the structure as the enigmatic King strolls with utter
detachment through the fantasy land of his creating. As the film draws you further into Ludwig’s
mental state and deeper into his still awe inspiring structural wonders, the
film begins to take on the look and feel of a colorful, almost neon-fluorescent
fairy tale with extravagant opulence so thick you wonder why Ken Russell didn’t
try to tackle the Bavarian King during his career.
Anyone going into Ludwig or any of the sibling cinematic
adaptations that have come and gone over the years already know the outcome,
though Visconti takes great care not to make artistic license of the facts
including letting the circumstances surrounding his death remain a mystery. Visconti’s film isn’t so much interested in
the outcome as it is trying to pick the legendary madman’s brain, trying to
understand what made the tragic, indulgent and possibly brilliant figure
tick. Furthermore, Ludwig is primarily concerned with how he got as far as he did in
the creation of his perfect bubble shielding him from reality and how close he
came to completely sending Bavaria’s economy belly up in the process.
As a Visconti film, Ludwig is chock full of visual wonders,
fine performances from the international cast and gets as close to the mental
state of the Bavarian King as any cinematic adaptation has ever attempted. Though moving at a deliberately slow pace and
intentionally leaving out details of how the castles were erected, Ludwig is an engrossing, relentlessly
fascinating watch which draws you into a kind of netherworld of opulent visual
splendor and the fragile psyche of the man responsible for their creation. In addition to being one of the most
fascinating and elegant biopics I’ve come across in some time, it piqued my own
interest in the Bavarian King and gave new meaning to the significance of his
castles and why they remain for all time some of the most extravagant manmade
structures on the face of the Earth.
Score:
- Andrew Kotwicki