Die lustigen Weiber von Wien Review: Ten Sisters, One Mustache, and Way Too Much Waltzing

If you have seventy-five minutes to spare and want to feel like you've been transported into a giant, sugary Viennese pastry, then yes, Die lustigen Weiber von Wien is worth your time. But if you hate early sound-era static noise and people bursting into song for absolutely no reason, you should probably run far away.

It is basically the cinematic equivalent of eating three slices of cake for breakfast. You feel a bit sick afterwards, but you can't deny it was fun while it lasted. 🍰

The whole plot is beautifully ridiculous. Ten sisters—yes, ten of them—decide to run away from home because their dad wants to marry someone they clearly despise.

Enter Willi Forst, playing their dance teacher. He has this incredibly smug pencil mustache that looks like it was drawn on with a very expensive piece of charcoal.

Forst helps them escape and they end up forming a café music group. It's the kind of movie where problems are solved by simply singing louder.

I tried counting the sisters during the big café scene, by the way. I swear there were only nine of them in one shot, but maybe one was hiding behind a giant potted fern. 🌿

Cinematic perspective: Exploring the visual vocabulary of Die lustigen Weiber von Wien (1931) through its definitive frames.

If you've had enough of heavy, depressing dramas from this era like Millie, this is the perfect palate cleanser. It doesn't have a single serious bone in its body.

The music is incredibly catchy, even if the sound quality makes everyone sound like they are singing through a tin can. That's just the charm of 1931 technology, I guess.

There is this one scene where the girls are practicing their dance moves in a line. One of them in the back keeps looking directly at the camera with this terrified expression, like she forgot the steps and is praying the director won't notice.

It's these little, unpolished moments that make these old films so lovable. You don't get this kind of accidental comedy in modern stuff.

It is certainly more energetic than other romance films of the transition era, like The Man and the Moment, which sometimes felt like watching paint dry. Here, the energy is almost exhausting.

The father character is also a hoot. He spends the entire movie looking like his collar is three sizes too small and he's about to explode from pure rage.

Things I jotted down while watching:

• The sheer amount of hairspray or grease used in Willi Forst's hair could probably power a small car.
• Viennese cafes in the 1930s looked like the most fun places on earth.
• I am still convinced there were only nine sisters in that one wide shot.
• The ending happens so fast you might miss it if you blink to clear your eyes.

Anyway, it's a goofy, sweet relic. Don't expect some grand masterpiece, just sit back and let the waltzes wash over you.