I saw a film tonight called "Nicky's Family"- a docudrama that recounts the humanitarian deeds of Nicholas Winton - described as the English "Schindler" - who organized the rescue of over 600 Jewish children out of Czechoslovakia prior to World War II.
This was a powerful and inspiring story that urges viewers to walk away with deepened understanding of the scale of wartime suffering and the value of humanitarianism. It shows this through the combination of actual interviews with survivors and dramatic re-enactments of events. It's narrated by a retired Canadian news reporter, Joe Schlesinger, who lends authority and credibility to the project, as he, himself, was one of the many children spirited out of his homeland by the efforts of Mr. Winton.
Although the film bears testament to some heart-wrenching personal accounts, the message is ultimately one of optimism -- not of the naive or insincere kind -- but a kind of hard-won optimism born of the rigour of integrity, self-sacrifice and unrelenting courage in the face of evil. Those of us born after the war into a comfortable peacetime, can only imagine the horrors that were endured.
The film communicates on multiple levels. One of the primary messages is that heroic acts are not always flashy or demonstrative but but more often than not, realized through seemingly quiet, behind-the-scenes actions guided by a genuine concern for the welfare of others, especially those who do not have a voice.
The theme of torn-apart families has been catalogued and examined by countless films and literature on the war and it is easy for one's eyes to glaze over at yet another account contributing to the already existing heap. The atrocities re-visited in this film reveal nothing new, yet this film is profound in the sense that it reminds the viewer that the "angels" among us are often ordinary folk who rise to the occasion and whose actions can have a ripple-effect significance. Perhaps, on another level, Nicholas Winton exemplifies that trademark British character of unassuming and dauntless perseverance -- one that proved triumphant over the Nazi machine.
The "hero" and subject of this film, - an accountant, who, by his own admission, had no initial altruistic impulses, found himself in the middle of unfolding events of Europe before the outbreak of World War II, and was plunged into the position of helping hundreds of Czech Jewish children obtain asylum from the shadow of German occupation and the near certainty of their death. He accomplished this through hours of methodical paperwork and the dogged pursuit of official channels to seek a safe haven for the children. His efforts were frustrated repeatedly by bureaucracy and the closed-door immigration policies of western nations at the time with the exception of his own country, Great Britain, where he managed to place the children in good foster families.
Particularily poignant were the interviews of these same orphaned children now as elderly adults who, after all these years, still fight back tears as they remember those final moments when their train pulled away from the platform, as they frantically exchanged goodbyes with their parents -- most of whom they would never see again. These scenes really resonate, as I am mentally preparing myself to be a parent and although the birth of my child is still "abstract" rather than "real" for me, I am beginning to experience a glimmer of parental bond to a child and can only appreciate how monumentally cruel it must be seem to have it broken.
The film also forced me to pause and reflect on the whole concept of "good deeds," and to review my own record -- an area I'd like to improve in. Like many of my generation, I have enjoyed the comforts and privileges that others died to preserve and it's so easy to lose sight of this. A film like "Nicky's Family," reminds me that we are beneficiaries of the brutal and bloody progression of history and that all of the conveniences and excesses of modern life have been paved with a trail of bodies. Not an exactly uplifting thought, however, the film suggests that as individuals, we have the agency to effect change, not by epic grandiose gestures but by the small, unheralded ones in our own corner here and now. I think it is important to be reminded of this because most of us spend our lives rushing around thinking in the "first person" and get wrapped up in the relative mundanity of our own existences. For me, this "first person" narrative is about to be broken permanently with the arrival of my child in October -- but also, I hope that this will give me a new appreciation of putting my own needs second and considering the needs of others more.
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