When I grew up, I was fascinated with Hungary. Not as exotic as Cuba but still, pretty exotic — impenetrable language always helps — and at the same time friendly socialist country from where cool, or at least colourful, things used to trickle into our grey reality. From my childhood, I remember novelty of orange Ikarus buses, the “rare bird” of imported chicken, and books by Corvina publishers that belonged to my mum, the best of which was the oversize Anatomy for the Artists by Jenő Barcsay. From a later period: then-still-cheap and way too sweet Tokaji wine; the 1978 Skorpió album Gyere Velem!, borrowed from (and, sorry to admit it, never returned to) a childhood friend; music books by Editio Musica Budapest, some of which I bought myself. (I still have Gitarakkord Kislexikon by Tibor Csepei on my shelf.) I don’t remember any single Hungarian film from those times though. While at the universtity, I watched István Szabó’s German-language trilogy (Mephisto, Oberst Redl and Hanussen), which I think does not quite count. Now, thanks to the Márta Mészáros retrospective, I can at last get acquainted with real Hungarian cinema.
Watching Mészáros’ debut feature, I can see why films like this were not shown in the Soviet Union. Lacking defined plot and moral, the movie follows the adventures of Erzsi (Kati Kovács), an independent, curious and, apparently, sexually liberated “titular” girl*. Not what I’d call a comedy but with some wonderfully subtle comic scenes, like the one with a mysterious man “from the countryside” who claims he knew Erzsi’s parents...
| * | Of the English (The Girl) and Spanish (La muchacha) titles. The picture was internationally released as The Day Has Gone. A better translation of the original Hungarian title, “[A] day gone by”, was done in the Soviet Union (Ушедший день in Russian). It could be that the film was named after the theme by the psychedelic rockers Illés, who make a mildly embarrassing appearance as a dance hall band. |
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