It happened in the women’s prison on the evening of 26th
May…
Slave Bird aka Rabmadár aka Prisoner No.
7 is frank in ways that might surprise modern viewers as much as
contemporary ones and was, as a result originally banned by the Hungarian
authorities until its success overseas led to a re-release. It’s depiction of
human and criminal relationships, together with some audacious nudity and
inferences of non-conforming sexuality, would never have made the screen pre-
or post-code in the United States.
A co-German and Hungarian production filmed in Budapest
and directed by Pál Sugár and Lajos Lázár, it begins with two dynamic sequences
that set the scene in imaginative and purely cinematic fashion. The action
starts in a court room in uproar with a lone figure working his way through a
crown of people and running to a telephone booth calling his newspaper: I’ve
got it… the first report on the lawsuit against the doctor! There follows
the flow of news as his report is transcribed, edited and then typeset and proofed
before being printed on huge Linotype off-set printers and emerging as
newspapers – hot metal headlines!
According to Dr Janka Barkóczi, as quoted in the
programme notes*, the editorial office of Az Est newspaper were used for these
scenes with the - domestically well-known - journalist and poet Lőrinc Szabó is
seen working on the story, subbing and proofing, adding an element of reality
to the film’s mix of documentary and melodramatic technique.
Waves of cyclists distribute the papers across the city as
we catch a glimpse of the Az Est front page – in both Hungarian and then
German (forgive my translation) - Prisoner No. 7 Not crime but humanity.
The Doctor talks. Violent sobs frame her revelations.
A great brave woman's heart triumphs over the rigid letter of the law. … public opinion unanimously demands (leniency).
The subtitles of the Bonn streaming version didn’t
include all of the text and only flashes of the newspaper’s coverage but I
wanted to see what the Hungarian and German audiences saw… who is this
mysterious Doctor and what has she done to invite legal process and such
overwhelming sympathy. It’s an unusual start to a film that embellishes its
relatively simple story with a good deal of sophistication and meaningful
under-currents.
A flashback then to the women’s prison on 26th
May and as we travel across the city the camera fixes on the outside of the
jail and then, through iron bars to a circle of women prisoners taking exercise
under the watchful eye of a guard before walking back to their confinement, silhouetted
against the fading light as they and us are incarcerated within the brooding
misery inside. The Doctor is played by the elegant German actress Charlotte
Susa who also sang opera (another Silent Multi-tasker) and enjoyed a long
career in her home country although having gained an MGM contract she failed to
develop a career in Hollywood. She mostly playing femme fatales and here she is
cast in a romantic role – with full meaning - as the Doctor who cares perhaps
too much for the prison inmates.
She is especially concerned with Anna, prisoner number 7, played by Lissy Arna another German actor and one who did work in America providing voice-overs for German films. She is exceptionally good here as the subject of wrongful imprisonment, taking the rap for her lover’s crimes and in frequent close-up demonstrating the misery of her choice and the anguish of lost love. She wants to put things right and make sure her man is following the straight and narrow – her sacrifice must not be in vain. But, as Anna’s plaintive eyes look tearily out of the bars on her cell her vision of her love Jenő becomes reality for the watching audience and in ways that make us pity her even more. The film’s pacing is impeccable.
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| Charlotte Susa |
The second we see Hans Adalbert Schlettow (here as Hans
Adelbert von Schlettow) as Jenő we know that Anna’s in trouble… is there anyone
else who could play such a dastardly and apparently likeable rogues as Herr Schlettow?
Nein, ich sage dir, tausendmal nein! The actor was often on the wrong
side of the cast as seen most recently in Bonn’s streaming of Song (1929)
with Anna May Wong**and he’s also familiar from Die Nibelungen (1924) and
Anthony Asquith's A Cottage on Dartmoor (1929). Here he is superbly full of
himself, preening at the mirror and then effortlessly charming the women around
him… all with a twinkle of devilment in his eye.
He has already cast a spell on the innocent “Birdie” (Ida
Turay) who believes it’s true love but is quick to work on the new maid (Olga
Kerékgyártó) who he spies on in her underwear, and he also keeps a close watch
on the Manageress (Mariska H. Balla) casting avaricious eyes at her safe.
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| Hans Adalbert Schlettow and Olga Kerékgyártó |
I don’t know why you are so interested in prisoner number
seven… she’s one of hundreds of thieves.
Back in prison, the Doctor is in her rooms watching her
pet bird in its gilded cage and no doubt drawing the same allusions we do
before she is called to Anna’s aid in the night. But Anna is only feigning
sickness, she wants the Doctor to let her out for just one night, and, as she asks
“… isn’t there someone you can’t live without?” But, as one of the guards
(Szidi Rákosi) has already said about the Doctor, she not only has her
favourite but “modern concepts of incarceration”. Whatever the reasons, she
agrees to swap places with Anna and the young woman escapes dressed as the
medic and makes her way to the hotel where her Jenő works.
But in the hotel, things are about to take a dramatic
turn as a striking new guest arrives, a beautiful “artiste” from Paris played
by El Dura who is described as a “native Creole” on IMDB and as an actress and
revue dancer. The term was used to cover those of mixed race and originally of
European (mostly French or Spanish) or African descent born in the West Indies
or parts of French or Spanish America. Whatever, it is good to see her given
such a meaty role and, once again, not an opportunity afforded in Hollywood. She
is playful and quickly gets the measure of Jenő who is clearly out of his
criminal depth.
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| El Dura getting the measure of her man... |
He runs her a bath and hopes his charm will win her over
but he’s left imagining her getting undressed with a split screen showing us
his febrile inventions in graphic detail. I’m not sure if this brief nudity was
left in the original re-released version or inserted back during the
restoration but it certainly shows Jenő’s mind-set and contrasts painfully with
the realities of prison and Birdie’s cosy fantasies.
As she keeps Jenő at arm’s length, the two hatch a plot
to rob the hotel, with the head waiter distracting the manageress as the dancer
grabs the contents of the safe… and, it would have worked as well if not for
the appearance of Anna… but there are more surprises in store as the film’s
main narrative streams meet in a powerful swirl of unexpected emotions.
In addition to the outstanding cast, the film is
enlivened by state-of-the art cinematography from Hungarian József Bécsi - worked
on many of the early films of director Michael Curtiz - and the experienced
German Adolf Otto Weitzenberg. Anna is filmed from overhead during crucial
moments in her cell whilst their cameras frequently follow the movement of the
players just as effectively as the close-ups that reveal the emotional nuance
of the main players.
The spirited improvisations from Irish pianist Elaine
Brennan, recorded live during the screening at Bonn, also ran so smoothly with
the narrative and the emotions on screen. I think this is the first time I’ve
heard her work and look forward to hearing more – accompanying a two-hour film
on the fly, especially one as unusual as this, is no mean feat: you need a
wealth of melody and compositional agility to tell the tale of steadfast Anna,
faithless Jenő and the Doctor whose compassion may redeem everyone.
The film was long considered lost until an incomplete
copy was passed from a Dutch collector to the National Film Archives of
Austria who, with The National Film Institute Hungary in Budapest, were able to complete a
fuller restoration in 2023 after the missing parts emerged. The film is now
some 2171 metres long, almost complete. The news broke in Hungary in 2023,
online as well as in print… we’ve come a long way from hot metal but hot news
remains the same!
I hope to see this film on British – or Italian – screens
soon!
Lissy Arna
*Dr Janka Barkóczi, nfi.hu, 11 December 2023
** Song is due in London at the BFI in September
with Stephen Horne accompanying!!
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| She knows why the caged bird sings... |
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