Review of Masquerade in Vienna

What a timeless confection of romance and scandal. It's as if I can smell the perfume clinging to the gowns as they fall to the art studio floor, feel the nap of the chinchilla muff, daub the flushed skin of a bourgeois wife's figure just released from the bones on a tight corset, thrill to her gay call for more champagne--all immersed in pale 'fin de siecle' lamp light. What an effervescent touch. Oh Willi, you rake