Powell & Pressburger: Lost Worlds

I had been invited to talk about the contribution of Hungarians to world cinema, focusing in particular on the work of Sir Alexander Korda and Emeric Pressburger The setting for the interview was the synagogue in Miskolc which Emeric Pressburger had attended as a child. I had a few minutes to look around while the crew set up the lights.

When Kevin Macdonald came to Miskolc in 1993 to research his biography of his grandfather, Emeric Pressburger: The Life and Death of a Screenwriter, he found that there “was no longer a rabbi – there weren’t enough Jews”, but he did find an old man who showed him the register of people who had been deported from the town to Auschwitz. Near the bottom of a page he came across his grandmother’s name, Gizella Pressburger, and the date May 1944: “I suddenly felt very moved out of all proportion.”

More than thirty years later, still lacking a congregation, the building remains a place of ghosts. As you look past the old wooden pews up to the sanctuary, you see a Hebrew inscription. It reads: “For everlasting remembrance of the souls of our brethren, the people of Israel, men, women, children and suckling infants, who were led to their deaths from Miskolc to Auschwitz in the year 5704 [1944].”

It was a good place to reflect on what motivated Pressburger the screenwriter – perhaps most of all, I think, a desire to rebuild lost worlds. It was also a good place to try to understand the affinity that made Powell & Pressburger work so well together. The first film that came to my mind as I looked around the synagogue was actually Edge of the World, which Powell made in 1937 before he had even met Pressburger.

A boat captain, Andrew, takes two visitors from the Scottish mainland to visit the remote, deserted island of Hirta. He tells them that the name means death: “There is not a living soul now on Hirta. The sea-birds were its first owners and now the sea-birds have it for their own again.” A former islander himself, the captain continues: “It’s the Sabbath today... Ten years ago you would have seen all the folk on the way to the kirk, the men in black, and the women neat and bonny... The bell would be ringing...”

Andrew then sees the ghosts return in his mind’s eye as he tells the story of the economic deprivation that led an entire community to abandon their church and their homes.

While the islanders of Hirta were able to begin a new life on the Scottish mainland, the Jews of Miskolc faced oblivion. Bringing back their lost world remains the work of generations.

Later that afternoon I participated in “From Miskolc to London” – a conference on Powell & Pressburger organised by Cinefest: the Miskolc International Film Festival. Then in the evening, there was a ceremony at Miskolc town hall, in which the mayor conferred the title of Honorary Citizen of Miskolc on Kevin Macdonald to recognize his work in “bringing together generations, countries and culture”.

This civic “making of a Hungarian” was a good way to come full circle. It reminded me that Kevin had not only written a book about his grandfather but also made a documentary about him, which he had called The Making of an Englishman.

The last words of his acceptance speech took us back to the synagogue: “I have to say something about my great grandmother, who was from Miskolc, and who, very sadly, in 1944, was one of the many Jews from Hungary, particularly from this area, who was deported to Auschwitz.” He mentioned the register of deportees that he had been shown: “I saw my great grandmother’s name there. But it feels like I have to pay respect to her and to all the other people who died at that time from this city. Unfortunately the sad memories are mixed with the joyful ones of being here.”

The next day the process of rebuilding lost worlds continued when the Cinefest organisers took Kevin and his brother Andrew to see the house where their grandfather had been born. It was being turned into a cultural centre and museum under the aegis of the EU-funded #artcrossing project, which encourages co-operation across national boarders.

It was, I thought, the perfect project for such a house, because Pressburger’s own life had been so manifestly devoted to the same goal.  I can see him now up in that other world with Blimp and Trubshawe – and by now probably Peter and June Carter too – applauding.