Mar 11\, 2025 (KQED.org)
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Donald Trump and Viktor Orbán shake hands in a scene from Connie Field’s documentary ‘ Democracy Noir\,’ playing three nights at the Roxie. (Roxie Theater)
\nAn “evergreen” docu mentary\, such as Connie Field and Marilyn Mulford’s Freedom On My Mind (1994)\, is a film whose information and themes are timeless. T he Bay Area filmmakers’ Oscar-nominated oral history of the Civil Rights c ampaign to register Mississippi voters in the early 1960s (currently avail able to stream on TCM< /a> and Max) will be relevant forever.Two Bay Area Memelords Take on Gentrification in a New Doc
\nField’s latest doc\, Democracy Noir (screening March 12\, 16 and 17 at th e Roxie)\, about Prime Minister Viktor Orbán’s systemic 15-year (and count ing) destruction of Hungary’s democracy\, derives from the opposite impuls e. Although its historical account and snapshot of individual resistance w ill resonate years down the road\, Field’s goal was to have the maximum im pact right now\, right here.
\nAfter she premiered Democracy Noi r at the prominent CPH:DOX festival in Copenhagen a year ago\, Field intended the film to play U.S. theaters\, alerting uninformed\, misinforme d and apathetic voters of the stakes of the 2024 election. It didn’t work out that way\; the doc screened at festivals in the liberal enclaves of Mi ll Valley and Boston (and throughout Europe)\, but didn’t get a wider rele ase.
\nIf there is a silver lining — I’m trying very hard to accentu ate the positive — to the vast damage done to the nation’s institutions by Donald Trump and his inside circle of billionaires since his second inaug uration\, it is that a whole lot more Americans are presumably interested in the autocratic Hungarian precedent on display in Democracy Noir.
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Blending and finessing the pas t and the present since Orbán took office for the second time in 2010\, Fi eld traces the chronology of events and the opposition to Orbán through a trio of remarkable Hungarian women. Niko Antal\, a nurse and the most emot ionally vulnerable of the three\, is perpetually protesting on the streets while working 18-hour days at minimum wage and paying for patients’ medic ine out of her own pocket. You can imagine Antal’s facial expression when her mother\, representative of the older generation\, says Orbán has made her feel more secure.
\nBabette Oroszi\, a respected and rising tele vision journalist when she was in her 20s\, was compelled to keep finding new venues as the right wing acquired roughly 400 media outlets in the yea rs since Orbán came to power. The quiet\, lovely home near a scenic waterw ay that she shares with her wife is a refuge from her stressful job.
\nOroszi investigates and uncovers the regime’s malfeasance\, pushing bac k against a tsunami of misinformation. “They’ve ruined education\, they’ve ruined the health care system\, they’ve screwed the . . . pensioners\,” s he laments.
\nBy way of explaining the media environment\, Democ racy Noir depicts the shocking morning when the staff of the country’ s largest newspaper\, Népszabadság\, which reported corruption sc andals on a near-daily basis\, found the building locked when they arrived for work and were fired almost immediately. Through the concerted flow of propaganda\, the government has effectively brainwashed most of the popul ation\, mitigating the need for the most palpable sign of repression: call ing out the military onto the streets.
\nOne of Orbán’s strategies i s funneling Hungary’s share of European Union funds to rural areas — new b uildings\, improvements in infrastructure and even sacks of potatoes — whi le claiming all the credit for his party\, Fidesz. The result\, unsurprisi ngly\, solidifies Orbán’s base of support outside of Budapest.
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Appealing opposition politician Tímea S zabó\, Democracy Noir’s third protagonist\, recounts recent histo ry to Field’s camera. Her more compelling appearances\, though\, are on th e floor of Parliament delivering impassioned\, articulate and clear argume nts against Fidesz’s policies. Szabó is a beacon of hope\, that is\, until one notices how empty the chamber is when she speaks.
\nDemocra cy Noir plays to U.S. viewers as a template for what has come to pass in the U.S.\, and is rolling out before our eyes. Television and radio ne tworks peddling the state’s version of events\, of course\, but also the l eader (whose power is never in doubt) relentlessly presenting himself and his followers as the victims\, surrounded by enemies. And\, ominously\, th e selective targeting of minorities — refugees\, LGBTQ+ people — as the ob ject of people’s blame\, suspicion and hatred.
\n“If the government hates me so openly\,” Oroszi asks\, “then what am I doing here?” The nurse Antal\, exhausted by the struggle\, says\, “I was raised to always fight for my dreams. I don’t have them anymore. Now I’m really just caught on a hamster wheel that I can’t get out of.”
\nTheir despair runs into har d choices\, such as moving abroad. Antal is reluctant to leave because her mother is ill. Ceasing to protest or tuning out aren’t options for people like her\, Oroszi and Szabó. It is their country\, after all\, always and forever.
\nThere is never any doubt which side Democracy Noir is on\, but Field is careful not to slip into sloganeering and preachi ng to the choir. The film is most effective as a foreshadowing of the futu re we are heading toward in our own country\, with shocking parallels betw een Trump’s statements and actions and Orbán’s.
\nAt the same time\, Democracy Noir provides\, for our inspiration\, three varyingly effective facets of resistance that involve — and transcend — keeping hope alive. As Bob Dylan sang\, “It’s not dark yet\, but it’s getting there.”< /p>\n
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‘ Democracy Noir’ scree ns March 16 and March 17 at the Roxie.
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