Gloomy Sunday—A Song of Love and Death (1999)

Gloomy Sunday:
Melancholy Sunday. The original song was called “End of the World.” Hungary’s pianist and composer Rezső Seress created this song in 1933. Several versions of this popular song have since been released. Poet László Jávor published the second version under the title “Sad Sunday.” The most widely recognized name for the song is “Gloomy Sunday,” which was Sam M. Lewis’s creation. Lewis’s version, sung by Billie Holiday, achieved the greatest fame. It’s said that the song is connected to the suicides of over a hundred people worldwide. The song is called the “Hungarian Suicide Song.” Because Seress was unwilling to leave Hungary for America to collect his royalties, he had to live in financial hardship. With his stubborn determination never to leave Hungary, he made his living playing piano at a restaurant called “Kispipa” in his native Budapest. The place was a hangout for prostitutes, musicians, vagrants, and Jewish working-class people. When he realized he couldn’t write another song like this one, that he could no longer create anything new, profound despair took hold of him. After his mother’s death, this despair became so intense that he attempted suicide by jumping from a building window. When he was taken to the hospital in an injured state, he strangled himself there with wire. This happened almost 35 years after the song’s publication. A film called “Gloomy Sunday – A Song of Love and Death” was made about this song in 1999, though the movie’s story is almost entirely different. I’m attempting to translate Sam M. Lewis’s version into Bengali:

Sunday shrouded in sorrow, no sleep comes so moments pass sleepless, alas,

One by one the shadows arrive,
I spend my solitary time with them alone,

White little flowers have vanished somewhere, they no longer come at your call,

The hearse has gone home carrying you, no one went with you,

Angels have disappeared to distant lands, they’ll never return to you,

If I too walk your path, will they then be terribly angry?

Sunday shrouded in sorrow.

I see sorrow only on Sundays, the day passes swallowing tears…

How much longer can I live like this,
tell me? The heart says,
farewell then!

In candlelight,
call me in your prayers, I know,
you’ll cry terribly,

Still forbid them to weep, tell them for me,

I am truly happy to have died.

Death is no dream, through death I have found you,

Know that my last breath too will say, farewell.

Sunday shrouded in sorrow.

Dreams, only dreams,

As I wake I see you,
sleeping in my heart,
right here.

Beloved, my dreams have not invaded your home, only in your spell,

Understand the heart’s pain,
beloved, in life I have only wanted you.

Sunday shrouded in sorrow.

Please forgive me,
perhaps I’m not good at translation.
You can Google the original lyrics,
and after listening, tell me – what is it about this song that makes one want to die after hearing it?
Or what makes one want to die while listening to it at the moment of death?
Or is it that among the crowd of lost love songs, this one was deliberately promoted through such propaganda to make it popular,
and if you investigated, you’d find separate reasons for each death?
Whatever the case,
as I said before,
while the story of the “Gloomy Sunday” movie is somewhat suicide-dependent, the movie’s story differs greatly from the original song’s story. There’s no reason to feel suicidal after watching “Gloomy Sunday,” but seeing the film’s heroine makes the heart stir somehow, makes one yearn, giving rise to mischievously sweet thoughts like “What’s the point of living if I don’t get such a girl in life?” There’s something about that Hungarian beauty! Watching her makes my head dizzy,
makes me desperately want to have her close.

I won’t tell the movie’s story in this piece. The movie falls into the masterpiece category,
well no,
rather some aspects of the movie seemed questionable to me. Still,
if there’s something called a heart beating in your chest,
if nothing else,
you could watch the movie just to experience the heroine,
though I can’t offer any refunds if disappointed. From the movie’s beginning to end, there are several scenes I want to discuss:

Restaurant owner Szabó has a romantic relationship with the beautiful waitress Ilona. András is hired to play piano for the customers. András is handsome and plays piano beautifully. Ilona falls in love with András at first sight. Meanwhile, on Ilona’s birthday, András writes “Gloomy Sunday” as a birthday gift and dedicates it to her. Ilona is completely overwhelmed. She kisses András right in front of Szabó. The wonderful thing is, Szabó has no objection to accepting this. Rather, he reassures Ilona: Don’t worry about me. I’ve always said everyone should have their own freedom when making decisions. When returning from the market with potatoes for the restaurant, the two men carry the sack together while Ilona walks beside them. As if they’re both sharing Ilona’s burden equally. (Come, let’s all give Szabó a loud round of applause!) Worth noting, making me cry “again,” that night Ilona spends the night in András’s bed. Why did I say “again”? You’ll understand when you watch the movie. If I could have written a “Gloomy Sunday” in my life! What’s the point of keeping this hair alive? (See how it incites suicide!)

Meanwhile, another story. On Ilona’s birthday, it’s also another restaurant customer’s birthday. His name is Hans, a German by nationality. His condition is also pitiful with love for Ilona. After celebrating his birthday at the restaurant, while walking with Ilona on the street, he proposes marriage to her. After being rejected, he takes on a Devdas-like expression and walks along the bridge over the river. Szabó is with him. Meanwhile, Ilona has gone to András’s room to play hide and seek. Hans and Szabó together contemplate what that melody might mean. “As if someone is telling you something you don’t want to hear. Yet you know the truth in your heart.” “I must go now.” Saying this, Hans walked along the bridge. Szabó turned the other way and stood looking at the river. A moment later. Swoosh!! The fool Hans had jumped into the river. Szabó went and rescued him. Hans tells Szabó not to tell Ilona anything. He also says, in return for today’s favor, I too will help you someday. Yes, he really does. How?… Well, András is no less either. Another day, when Szabó and Ilona are playing indoor games, András sits below that building smoking cigarettes. Ah, what a big heart! When will we have such a boy in our country, who grows big in heart rather than belly?

The camera is now in András’s room. What’s happening there is enough to spoil one’s mood! They embraced each other and kissed. And then? No! András, like a goat’s third-rate offspring, hangs his head and looks the other way. Despite Ilona’s best efforts, he simply won’t do anything more. What else could be done! Ilona left the room and started walking. At such a moment, could anyone turn away a graceful girl like Ilona? The sin of doing something with such a girl with mutual consent is more peaceful than a hundred virtues! There are some sins that one spends a lifetime regretting not being able to commit. Doesn’t the fool understand this? Does András have gastric problems? The fellow definitely has issues! He should see a dermatologist and sexologist. Or it could be that seeing the camera, he actually started acting! Thinking, what is this? Wait wait! Picture abhi baaki hai, mere dost!… Well, what does all this mean? Listen from Szabó’s mouth: You’ve had two men in your life, and we two have each gotten half a woman.

“This melody needs no words. The melody itself can speak!” A restaurant customer’s comment. Yes, András had to play that melody repeatedly in the restaurant. At first he hadn’t set any words to the melody; he did so much later. Meanwhile, claims that “Gloomy Sunday” was connected to some people’s deaths began to be broadcast in the media. András had to hear that “Gloomy Sunday” gave people death, and gave its creator money. He was a very sensitive person. Unable to bear it, standing on the bridge, he tore up the song’s lyrics and threw them into the river. He would never create music again. Szabó and Ilona rushed to his side. “It would have been better if I had died rather than so many people dying.” “Don’t think like that. You didn’t tell them to die. You only made their farewell more joyful.” That’s Szabó’s dialogue. I agree with that too. If someone really does end their life after hearing “Gloomy Sunday,” the responsibility isn’t the music’s, it’s theirs. Those who were going to leave would have left anyway; rather, because of this melody their final journey became joyful. They sailed away to the other shore on music’s boat. András had a bottle of poison in his pocket; after hearing Szabó’s words, he said, “I don’t need this anymore.” Szabó took it and kept it with himself. He said, “Still, it’s safer with me.” After Szabó’s death, the bottle comes to Ilona.

One day András sits down to write lyrics for the tune.
“The breath that ends my life,
That breath returns me home, I wander through the shadowlands with no fear in my heart.” Ilona says, “Promise me you’ll never do that
(suicide).”
“As long as I have you by my side,
I never will.” András’s vow. This promise is crucial in the movie. Why, I’ll come to that later. Meanwhile, Hans joins Hitler’s Nazi forces. One day he comes to the restaurant with some colleagues to eat his favorite beef roll. That day he saves Szabo from his colleague’s gunfire, repaying an old favor. When András takes the wounded Szabo home, Hans offers to escort Ilona home and seeks intimacy with her on the way. Ilona refuses. She cannot sleep with someone who has never claimed a place in her heart. A woman in love might share her bed with more than one person, but she cannot even kiss someone she doesn’t love.

When Ilona tells the wounded Szabo, “I’ve heard the Germans want to kill all the Jews in Hungary,”
Szabo responds with something profound: “My father was Jewish, my mother was Jewish,
that’s why I’m Jewish. But who thinks about it like that?”
Indeed,
when we judge someone by their religion,
does it ever occur to us that they had no say in their birth?
Did they choose their religion themselves? If belonging to a particular faith is a crime, could they have done anything to distance themselves from that crime?
Those who judge people by their religion
are the greatest fools of all.

Now I’m writing about my favorite scene. Colonel Hans of the Nazi forces comes to eat at Szabo’s restaurant with a colleague. He had never liked András. András didn’t much care for him either. He asks András to play ‘Gloomy Sunday.’ András doesn’t want to play. Then Hans angrily pulls out his pocket watch and tells András,
you have ten seconds. You’ll play within that time.
(If he didn’t play, Hans would shoot and kill András—
that was the clear implication in his manner.) András still doesn’t play. Then, to save András, Ilona rushes to his side and says, “Play,”
and begins singing the lyrics to András’s song. She says,
play for me. Only then does András play. After finishing the song, Ilona runs from there toward the washbasin. Soon after, a gunshot is heard. András has committed suicide, pressing Hans’s pistol to his head. The question is, why did András do this? I’ve constructed my own explanation. One day András asks Ilona to sing. That day Ilona had told him, “I only sing when I’m alone.” The fact that Ilona sang in the restaurant despite András being beside her proves
that Ilona must have felt alone at that moment—
otherwise how could she have sung?
András is beside her, yet Ilona became alone?
What does this mean?
Ilona can no longer feel András’s presence beside her; Ilona is no longer beside András. He had said that if Ilona wasn’t beside him, he wouldn’t remain in this world either. With what infinite anguish in his heart he ended himself to keep that promise!
We’ve seen artists like this—eccentric, temperamental! András didn’t die because Hans had wounded his self-respect, but because Ilona sang. The character of András is the most sensitive in this
movie.

We hear another meaning of ‘Gloomy Sunday’ from Szabo’s mouth:
Every person has their own dignity. We get hurt. We get humiliated. As long as even a little of our dignity remains,
we can endure everything. But when the last bit of dignity is exhausted, perhaps it’s better to leave this
world. I’ll go, but I’ll take my dignity with me.………This part struck me as extraordinary! One day the Nazis take Szabo away. Hans promises to save Szabo and takes Ilona to bed, satisfying his long-unsatisfied soul,
but in the end he doesn’t save Szabo. This is his cruel revenge for love’s rejection. Standing before András’s grave, Ilona says, “You can’t imagine how much I miss you. I miss you both so much. László (Szabo)
is dead, just like you. At least you have a grave, he doesn’t even have that. His friend Wik (Hans)
sent him to the furnace.………I’m reopening the restaurant. Wish me well.” Ilona carries Szabo’s child in her womb.

I have some objection to the movie’s final scene. When everything falls neatly into place in a movie, it somehow doesn’t feel right—
does everything work out so perfectly in life? Is there really such a thing as a happy ending in life? From that perspective, watching neo-realist films is safer—
you don’t get disappointed by the fulfillment of hope. German industrialist Hans comes to celebrate his 80th birthday at Ilona’s restaurant, with his wife.
(Weren’t there other restaurants?
Did Hans have to come to Ilona’s restaurant? Besides, how did Hans even know the restaurant had reopened?)
That day happens to be Ilona’s birthday too.
(Why must we accept this coincidence?)
Fine. What happened next? At Hans’s request, ‘Gloomy Sunday’ was playing. Seeing Ilona’s youthful photograph in the restaurant,
the one Hans himself had once taken and given to Ilona as a gift, Hans suddenly feels unwell and dies within moments. We see elderly Ilona
cleaning a vial in the washbasin behind the restaurant. After all these years, András’s poison vial has finally served its purpose. Ilona’s son opens a champagne bottle,
pours it into glasses,
gives one glass to Ilona,
celebrating his mother’s birthday with her. Just as Ilona didn’t know the story of how Szabo had saved Hans’s life, we don’t know whether the investigation into industrialist Hans’s death revealed the plan to murder Hans with poison. After such a long delay, Ilona finally avenged two deaths and
one humiliation. (Does life really proceed according to such cinematic plans?
Really?) Despite everything,
‘Gloomy Sunday’
is a movie worth enjoying and feeling. Thanks to director Rolf Schübel for this wonderful gift.