NEW WAVE CINEMA LOOKING BACK/ARTS
The 1960s were decidedly the most successful years of European cinema. French New Wave (La Nouvelle Vague) was born in this period, and its aesthetics and topics – along with the critical acclaim that followed – prepared a path for a variety of new waves, not only in Europe (thinking for example of the Brazilian Cinema Novo)
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s cinema eventually took its place among other fields of art, it became an emancipatory tool for moviemakers from The Other Europe, as Dina Iordanova puts it. This period also gave rise to important currents that included the Hungarian New Cinema, the Czechoslovak New Wave and the Yugoslavian Black Wave. Respective new waves occurred at different times in different countries or simply did not arrive, as some researchers claim about Polish cinema. National new waves used varying aesthetics, and it is impossible to reduce them to a single phenomenon. However, the term “new wave“ has generally been attributed to the most original, prolific and creative periods of a given national cinema.
Hungary: The Socialist New Wave The beginning of the 60s brought considerable freedom in Hungarian social life. The revolutionary leaders of 1956 were largely released from prison. The term “Goulash Communism“ was coined to describe the years under János Kádár. In
EWA CISZEWSKA fact, Hungary was nicknamed “the merriest barrack in the Soviet camp”. When public discourse was moderately freed, there was finally a place for films that more or less directly addressed previously taboo topics. Indeed, it was political engagement that distinguished Hungarian cinema from 1963 to 1971. The theme of this work might be described as “man and history”. During this time, Miklós Jancsó explored relations of power and the role of individuals in his visually refined cinematic parabolas. His films can be interpreted as objections to the fatalistic concept of national destiny. In turn, Sándor Sára and Károly Makk made an attempt to settle the Stalinist period. Sára’s The Thrown Up Stone (Feldobott kő, 1968) addressed the subject of forced collectivization. The inhuman diagnosis of the film was strengthened through its portrayal of Romani people (so-called “Gypsies”), unaccustomed to settled life. Meanwhile, Makk’s Love (Szerelem, 1971) was a portrayal of two women: a daughter-in-law and a mother-in-law. Upon the arrest of her husband for political reasons, the younger woman hides the truth to protect the feelings of the older woman. Thanks to an agreement with the postman, she maintains the illusion of her husbands escape to the West and his recognition overseas as an artist.
This new Hungarian cinema did not overlook the problems of youth, teenage angst – an emblematic topic both for La Nouvelle Vague and Czechoslovak New Wave. Among many titles working in this direction, it is worthwhile to mention Istvána Gaál’s The Drift (Sodrásban, 1964), owing much to Michelangelo Antonioni’s The Adventure (1960), and The Girl (Eltávozott nap, 1960) by Márta Mészáros. Given the perspective of time, the most astonishing characteristic of the Hungarian New Wave – as well as Czechoslovak and Polish productions – is the willingness and capacity filmmakers displayed in citing the national cinemas of neighboring countries. An illustration of this tendency is Istvan Szabó’s short film The Concert (Koncert, 1963), conceptually an answer to Roman Polański’s Two Men and a Wardrobe (Dwaj ludzie z szafą, 1958). In the latter film, a series of unpleasant experiences eventually induces the two characters wandering with a wardrobe to return to the sea. Szabó adapted the fairy-tale language of Polański, but disagreed with the pessimistic outlook of the alumni of the National Film School in Łódź. Even if the two boys carrying a piano in the Hungarian film decided to leave their burden as well, others show up to take care of the instrument and tenderly protect it from the rain. 107