Based on a true story and culled from different books on the subject, Mozart's Sister is an engaging drama despite the slow pace. Don't go expecting Amadeus, though - this isn't about the music.
Maria Anna 'Nannerl' Mozart (Marie Ferét) is dragged around Europe by her pushy father Leopold (Barbé) to accompany her genius brother, the eleven-year-old prodigy that is Wolfgang (David Moreau), in mini concerts. Nannerl is hugely talented but she has two major obstacles working against her: the star is, was and always will be 'Wolfy' and she's a woman, forbidden by her father to even learn the violin. When the family is forced to take shelter in an abbey outside Paris, Nannerl befriends the king's daughter, Louise (Lisa Ferét), who asks her to take a letter to her beloved in the capital. Disguised as a boy, Nannerl delivers the letter but at the behest of Dauphine (Foum), who takes a shine to the 'boy', she is encouraged to stay and play...
It sounds like Mozart's Sister moves at a brisk pace but Ferét sets out from the off to make things as realistic as possible in a 'that's what it must have been like back then', which is a kind way of saying things are rather slow. The first sequence sees Nannerl, dress hitched up to her knees, urinating by the side of the carriage; later her father's spectacles garners sniggers from the kids; and in a move that mimics Kubrick's strive for authenticity in Barry Lyndon, the director attempts to light the rooms by candlelight alone. This attention to detail steeps the viewer in the era but Ferét doesn't dwell on the loveliness/realism of it all and never allows it to overshadow the story, which is a feat in itself because it takes an age for a story to come about. There's a lot of waiting about before Nannerl gets to Paris, bewitches the Dauphine and is encouraged to compose her own work, which was discouraged by her overbearing father.
The men here are nothing but despicable. Her father is a bully (however, it's her mother that strikes her when she disobeys), scolding his talented children for playing below par, while the Dauphine is ruled by his emotions, and is as likely to cast you aside as to embrace you. Ferét's rather heavy-handed in giving us the sense that women here are doomed: either obey your man (be it father or husband) or become a nun, which is essentially obeying another man.
Interesting but never quite grasping the attention the way it should.
