Munich is home to many writers who foster a special relationship with their city. Our editor wants to find out how Munich influences their work. In the picture this time: Screenwriter Elena Hell tells all about her research for the new series ‘Sisi’ over cake at Café Schuntner.
She's a true Munich native, so it's no wonder she suggests meeting up at Café Schuntner – a cake institution in Sendling. Elena Hell, screenwriter and novelist, graduated from the renowned Hochschule für Film und Fernsehen (University for Television and Film Munich). She became known for her work on the series ‘Sisi’, which has been on air since 2021 and for which she wrote the scripts together with Robert Krause.
We stand in front of the counter and admire the cakes on display. “I love cream cakes, even if I don't tolerate them very well,“ says Hell with a grin. “But I have a tradition of coming here when a text has been sent off or there's something to celebrate.“ One such reason to celebrate was definitely when she received the offer to write the script for ‘Sisi’.
I savour a slice of raspberry tart and ask why a different interpretation of the Sisi character was actually necessary. Hell explains that the idea came from the producer. He wanted to watch the old Romy Schneider films with his daughters, but they quickly lost interest, leaving him alone in front of the television. So, a modern reinterpretation of the material was called for! Elena Hell did not hesitate. “Even as a child, I thought Sisi was totally cool. Her transformation into a princess and that great love... I just absolutely adored it all.”
As the terrace in front of the café gradually empties and the after-work bustle on the street picks up, we delve deeper into Hell's work. I want to know how she found a new approach to a person about whom so much has already been said. Where do you start? “First of all, I googled”, says Hell, laughing loudly and infectiously. During the writing process, the team had historical advisors and an assistant who took care of everyday questions – like whether there were beer mats in Sisi's time.
Given the rapid pace at which Hell and Krause were developing the material, this help was invaluable. The question that interests me most is how they managed to balance fiction and fact. “We often opted for creative licence!” she admits “I was worried that people might protest.” “But I read several biographies about Sisi and realised that every author has their own image of her. That's why I always say that I've written a free interpretation of the person.”
As we set off to walk through the neighbourhood, Elena Hell tells me about her trip to Possenhofen Palace. She was impressed by the fact that you can walk under the same trees that Sisi once strolled under – a magical feeling. I ask Hell for her opinion on how the shy girl became a self-confident empress who is still idolised today? “Sisi learned how to pose from actresses on stage. She created her beauty albums with photographs of women from all over the world and taught herself how to advertise herself.”
Elena Hell is also familiar with the intricate world of fashion and beauty, having worked as a model for several years after graduating from high school. This gave her the financial means to pursue other interests She began studying and took an acting course during a semester off, where she wrote her first screenplay. “This was my eye-opener”, she concludes. I think to myself: She is a person with great expression. It is pleasant to look at and listen to her. And now, as an author, she channels this expression into her writing.
As we stroll through the Sendling district, we pass the Stemmerhof, a former farm now resembling a small village square. Great restaurants, wine bars, and cafés have sprung up around it, and there's even an ice cream van that serves the neighbourhood on hot summer days as well as a courtyard theatre. We discuss special places like this, and the author becomes enthusiastic: “The Dreimühlen neighbourhood is also fantastic. And Taverna Anesis for Greek food. I really like the City Kinos cinemas with their great courtyard and the Maria Einsiedel natural swimming pool!” When we spontaneously drive to what is perhaps the most beautiful swimming pool in the city, I ask her if this has crossed her mind because she is currently adapting the bestselling novel 22 Bahnen. “I was thrilled about the swimming pool cosmos in the book! But I also swim a lot in my private life and love being in Einsiedel,” she explains.
Just like protagonist Tilda, who swims 22 laps a day in Caroline Wahl's surprise success. Tilda actually swims to escape the burden of her alcoholic mother at home. The novel was on the Spiegel bestseller list for months and the author has won numerous awards. Was Elena Hell afraid to rewrite the story that so many have taken to their hearts for the cinema? She nods spontaneously. “It's a challenge to really capture the feeling and mood of the novel. I hope people will rediscover what they love about the book in the film. And maybe even find some things that top it off” she reveals.
Before she dives into the jade-green water, I ask her why she has never turned her back on Munich. “It feels like the world is in order here. Munich is like a cheese platter under a glass dome and I need that to relax.” I understand what she means. Due to the high quality of life, Munich often feels more like a cosy village than a vibrant metropolis. Also our special swimming pool, which was designed with ecological aspects in mind, fits in with this. One unique feature is the almost 400-meter-long (and ice-cold!) Isar Canal, which flows right through the complex.
Elena Hell puts on her swimming goggles and slides into the pool. She winces briefly and the sun sets behind her. “I could do without the chic and glamour of Munich, though,” she adds. “But I guess that’s part of it.” I ask her if she ever feels the need to defend her city against people who cling to familiar clichés. “Absolutely. You have to engage with Munich. You have to take the time and look beyond certain things”, she says.
And then she swims off.