Although the political short Jön az öcsém is identified as the only surviving Hungarian subject by Mihály Kertész a.k.a. Michael Curtiz in the 1999 restoration prepared by the Hungarian Film Institute, since then at least two features and two other fragments of features have been uncovered. That sort of takes the heat off this little film for bearing the burden of Curtiz' Hungarian silent legacy, which is fortunate, as it is in every way exceptional from the work he did in Hungary as a matter of course. In Hungary, Curtiz directed mostly feature films -- comedies and melodramas -- and he had apprenticed under August Blom for a time in Denmark. Curtiz' reputation as a director was made already in Eastern Europe and whatever caused Curtiz to flee Hungary -- whether it was the Nationalization of the industry as he claimed, or due to repercussions from making this film -- Curtiz easily found work in Austria not long after his arrival there. Some of the comments here on IMDb evince unfamiliarity with the purpose of Jön az öcsém; it is not a Socialist revolution that the brother is heralding from afar but an explicitly Communist one. He is a prisoner-of-war who manages to escape from captivity and makes the long, arduous journey back to Hungary to spread the gospel of revolution; the requisite, ragged red banner in hand. There was a communist revolution in Hungary in 1919, and it was barely two weeks old when this film appeared; Jön az öcsém would have been placed in addition to the newsreel to whip up pro-communist sentiment among the public in Hungary's theaters. By August 1919, the first Hungarian revolution had been crushed and the monarchy semi-restored by the ascent of military leader Admiral Horthy to the title of Regent. Therefore, Jön az öcsém is a valuable historic relic of Hungary's short-lived first revolutionary period.
What makes it especially interesting is that revolutionary cinema in the Soviet Union was barely underway in the spring of 1919, still mainly devoted to making newsreels. The unique visual style of Soviet Cinema was still some ways off, and while Curtiz' film has no relation to that style as it evolved, it does share some commonality with thematic devices of Soviet cinema. If Sidney Rosenzweig's point is taken that among the essentials of Curtiz' mature style is "the effect of highlighting the character's relationship to his environment, (an) environment (...) identified with the fate in which the character (is) trapped" then there is plenty of that in Jön az öcsém. The director of the notorious "Mission to Moscow" would have had plenty to worry about had this little nugget been revived in Curtiz' later years, but thanks to the obscurity surrounding Hungarian silents it never came back to haunt him. That it is based on a poem, and that its story is told out of chronological sequence are apparently techniques employed by Curtiz in this film only. To compare it to D. W. Griffith Biographs made a decade earlier is certainly unfair, as these would never have been seen in the Hungarian market by 1919, dominated as it was by German, Austrian and French Pathé films in addition to the domestic product. And as so little of Hungarian silent film has survived, we ought to be thankful that Jön az öcsém still can be seen; it was aiming for higher objectives than a typical entertainment film, and to say that it "sucks" is an irrelevant observation.
What makes it especially interesting is that revolutionary cinema in the Soviet Union was barely underway in the spring of 1919, still mainly devoted to making newsreels. The unique visual style of Soviet Cinema was still some ways off, and while Curtiz' film has no relation to that style as it evolved, it does share some commonality with thematic devices of Soviet cinema. If Sidney Rosenzweig's point is taken that among the essentials of Curtiz' mature style is "the effect of highlighting the character's relationship to his environment, (an) environment (...) identified with the fate in which the character (is) trapped" then there is plenty of that in Jön az öcsém. The director of the notorious "Mission to Moscow" would have had plenty to worry about had this little nugget been revived in Curtiz' later years, but thanks to the obscurity surrounding Hungarian silents it never came back to haunt him. That it is based on a poem, and that its story is told out of chronological sequence are apparently techniques employed by Curtiz in this film only. To compare it to D. W. Griffith Biographs made a decade earlier is certainly unfair, as these would never have been seen in the Hungarian market by 1919, dominated as it was by German, Austrian and French Pathé films in addition to the domestic product. And as so little of Hungarian silent film has survived, we ought to be thankful that Jön az öcsém still can be seen; it was aiming for higher objectives than a typical entertainment film, and to say that it "sucks" is an irrelevant observation.
