Survival is defined as the ability to remain alive and persevere through all the obstacles that can halt one’ existence. It could be said that most of the
endeavors an individual undertakes are solely to prolong life. During wartime, this task becomes exponentially more difficult and requires the skills, both
mental and physical, to carry on as inhumane atrocities become quotidian occurrences. Perhaps the most horrendous case in history is the social decay that
prevailed during World War II, more prominently in countries under Nazi control, which completely dehumanized those targeted by the Reich as well as the
bystanders forced to reevaluate the value of a person’s life, rendering many as subhuman. In his ambitious and terrific film The Notebook,
director János Szász approaches this instinctive resilience by way of an unbreakable bond between two
twin brothers and their assertiveness to persist and overcome the extreme austerity they encounter.
Considering his twin sons a conspicuous liability, a Hungarian soldier and his wife agree they must hide them with their grandmother in a remote village on
the outskirts of the country. Before parting with them, the father entrusts them with a mission, he provides them with a notebook in which they must write
an account of everything that happens to them. Taking this assignment to heart, the boys (played by András Gyémánt and László Gyémánt) begin to write about their experiences, not only in text but also
with visuals, as a scrapbook of sorts. Spiteful due to her daughter’s abandonment, the grandmother (Piroska Molnár) refuses to care for the children. She refers to them as
bastards, hits them, and treats them cruelly even as they work for her around her farm. The twins understand that hardships will only worsen and they
must be prepared. As instructed by their mother, they keep their studies up aided by an old encyclopedia and a bible, yet, the greatest lessons come from
their terrible fate. Crushing any trace of childish mentality or oversensitivity by means of pain, the boys begin to train themselves to bear incredible
suffering. They fight each other to increase their tolerance to physical pain, they starve to be ready when winter hits, and they deny themselves any
emotion towards their mother’s letters.
Along the way they meet varied characters that test their compassion, and others who shatter any remains of innocence: a friendly Nazi officer that
ends up saving their lives, to a Jewish shoemaker who generously gives them boots, a sexually deviant priest, a disfigured thief, and a flirtatious
xenophobic woman. Eventually the malevolent grandmother comprehends the pair are the only reason she is still alive and warms up to them, although she never
verbalizes it. When the boys’ parents finally return for them, they are not the same. Their perception of family is now less romanticized. Having their
fraternal love as only source of reassurance, their parents have now become a burden in their goal to survive.
In what is the most psychologically intriguing element of the story, the twins undergo a self-imposed journey to desensitize themselves and by doing so
their moral convictions must adapt to the situations with which they are confronted. They cannot afford to second-guess their illicit practices to obtain food or other
much needed supplies. For them, there is logic in their every move, which is still dictated by the convictions imposed by their parents. Righteously they
believe evil must be punished, and they are sympathetic towards those who, like them, are trying not to perish. Disturbingly comfortable with killing
animals, their pragmatism allows them to see murder simultaneously as a benevolent act of kindness for those unfit to keep going, and as the ultimate
tactic to protect themselves. After mastering all sorts of emotional and bodily deprivation, their only weakness becomes their dependence on each other.
András and László Gyémánt give equally courageous performances entirely removing any expression of joy from their faces. It is a saddening bravery that propels
them to behave in such a cold-hearted manner. Contained, vigilant, and ferocious against the world these young actors defy their age and truly astound in
their first screen appearance.
With an immaculate production the film is visually captivating. Photographing a bleak rural charm Christian Berger constructs an elegant depiction
of a terrible time that in spite of the turmoil around, emphasizes the boys’ experiences via their drawings, souvenirs, and mismatched pictures which becomes
their collective, truthful, memory. Deserving of even greater accolade is director János Szász who elicits spectacularly raw performances out of his entire
cast, and whose vision creates a film that provides powerful and honest insight into a passage of history which has been revised repeatedly. As a world-class filmmaker he
seeks to explore humanity through his art, delivering cinematic philosophy. Savagely beautiful, The Notebook can be summarized as a darkly
poetic period piece about children for adults.