As the 1982 Academy Awards ceremony fades into Hollywood legend, one of its most significant victories is often overlooked. While Chariots of Fire claimed the top prize, a dark, brilliant European film about a stage actor's Faustian pact with the Nazi regime quietly secured the Oscar for Best International Feature. That film was István Szabó's Mephisto, and it has now been meticulously restored for a major UK rerelease.
A Landmark Film Reborn
For years, Szabó's 1981 masterpiece has been frustratingly difficult to see. A DVD release from the early 2000s fell out of print, and streaming platforms have largely ignored it. This December, that changes. In a collaboration between Second Run and the National Film Institute Hungary, Mephisto has been restored and will be released alongside Szabó's subsequent films, Colonel Redl and Hanussen, in a limited edition Blu-ray box set.
Reflecting on his Oscar win over four decades later, the 87-year-old director remains humble. "The moment took me by surprise," Szabó recalls. He knew the award was not his alone, crediting the "electrifying" lead performance by Klaus Maria Brandauer and the talented Hungarian crew. The win marked a historic first for Hungarian cinema, a feat only matched by 2015's Son of Saul.
The Faustian Pact of Hendrik Höfgen
The film tells the story of Hendrik Höfgen, a phenomenally talented but ruthlessly ambitious stage actor in 1930s Germany. As the Nazis consolidate power, Höfgen systematically severs ties with his leftist theatre roots to ingratiate himself with the fascist regime. Friends are arrested and exiled, but Höfgen's desire for the spotlight only deepens his complicity, culminating in his appointment as head of the Berlin state theatre.
"Höfgen is a very talented actor who wants to assert his talent at all costs," explains Szabó. "To stand in the middle of the stage, in the spotlight." This drive is channelled through Klaus Maria Brandauer's legendary, shocking performance, which Szabó describes as a careful revelation of secrets. "It was crucial for us to decide what to show in close up from Brandauer's secrets. What he reveals and what he conceals."
The narrative is loosely based on the real-life figure of Gustaf Gründgens, whose career flourished under Nazi patronage. A scathing 1936 novel by his former lover, Klaus Mann, led to a famous libel case and a ban that technically remains in force. Szabó, however, transcends the biography to create a universal fable about the seductive nature of power and opportunistic collusion.
A Chilling Warning for the 21st Century
With the film's rerelease, its themes feel alarmingly contemporary. Asked if Mephisto holds lessons for today's world, where authoritarianism is resurgent, Szabó is unequivocal. "The desire for self-assertion is a human trait," he notes. "The problem arises when it is used for the sake of a wrong ideology or policy, and a talented person allows themselves to be exploited."
He delivers a stark warning that extends beyond historical dictatorships. "This still exists in the 21st century, and it does not necessarily require a dictatorship. The power of business is enough. Or some other motive." The director politely rebuffs a direct question about Hungary's upcoming 2026 elections, simply stating he is interested "like everybody else."
Szabó's work is deeply rooted in the tumultuous history of Central Europe, from the fall of the Austro-Hungarian Empire to the Holocaust and Communist rule—themes he has explored in films like Sunshine. While pessimistic about the current state of cinema, he praises contemporary Hungarian filmmakers like Barnabás Tóth and Bálint Szimler.
As for his own future behind the camera, the director is uncertain, citing the physical demands of the role. "I can't say whether I'll have a chance to make another film," he admits. For now, the powerful, prescient restoration of Mephisto ensures his masterpiece will continue to challenge and provoke audiences, asking uncomfortable questions about ambition, power, and moral compromise that are as urgent now as they were in 1981.
