
Girl No. 217 tells the harrowing story of Tanya, a young Russian woman captured by Nazi forces during World War II and sent to Germany as slave labor. She is designated as Prisoner No. 217 and forced to work for a German family, where she endures brutal treatment, psychological torment, and constant dehumanization. The film portrays her struggle to maintain her dignity and humanity in the face of extreme cruelty, while also depicting the moral corruption of her German captors. Through Tanya's experiences, the film exposes the systematic nature of Nazi oppression and the resilience of the human spirit. The narrative builds to a powerful climax that serves as both a personal tragedy and a broader indictment of fascist ideology. The film stands as one of cinema's earliest and most direct portrayals of the Holocaust and Nazi war crimes.
Filmed in 1944-1945 while WWII was still ongoing, making it one of the first films to address Nazi atrocities while the war was still being fought. The production faced significant challenges due to wartime resource constraints and the need to recreate German locations within the Soviet Union. Director Mikhail Romm conducted extensive research, interviewing former prisoners and studying Nazi documents to ensure authenticity. The film's title refers to the dehumanizing practice of numbering prisoners in concentration camps.
Girl No. 217 was produced during the final months of World War II and released shortly after Germany's surrender. This timing was crucial, as the film was one of the first cinematic works to address the full scope of Nazi atrocities while they were still fresh in public consciousness. The Soviet Union, having suffered devastating losses during the war (over 27 million dead), was eager to document and memorialize Nazi crimes. The film emerged during Stalin's post-war cultural policy, which encouraged works that glorified Soviet resistance and condemned fascism. Its creation coincided with the Nuremberg Trials, where evidence of Nazi war crimes was being presented to the world. The film's stark, unflinching portrayal of German civilian complicity was controversial but reflected the Soviet Union's desire to ensure that the German people as a whole would be held accountable. The timing also meant the film could serve as both memorial and warning, using recent history to reinforce Soviet ideological positions about the dangers of fascism and the superiority of the Soviet system.
Girl No. 217 holds immense cultural significance as a pioneering work in Holocaust cinema and anti-fascist film. It was among the first films worldwide to directly address Nazi concentration camps and the systematic dehumanization of prisoners, predating many more famous Western treatments of the subject. The film established several conventions that would become standard in Holocaust cinema, including the focus on individual suffering within the broader context of systematic oppression. Its portrayal of ordinary German citizens' complicity in Nazi crimes was groundbreaking and controversial, challenging the notion that only high-ranking officials were responsible. The film influenced Soviet cinema for decades, establishing a template for war films that emphasized moral clarity and the suffering of Soviet people. Internationally, it demonstrated that Soviet cinema could tackle complex moral questions with artistic sophistication. The film's success at Cannes helped establish Soviet film as a major force in post-war international cinema. Its influence can be seen in later Holocaust films like 'Night and Fog,' 'Shoah,' and 'Schindler's List,' which similarly sought to document and memorialize Nazi atrocities.
The production of Girl No. 217 was remarkable for its timing and ambition. Director Mikhail Romm began working on the project in 1943, while the outcome of WWII was still uncertain. He conducted extensive research, interviewing liberated Soviet prisoners and studying smuggled documents from Nazi camps. The film was shot at Mosfilm Studios in Moscow, where elaborate sets were built to replicate German households and labor camps. Due to wartime shortages, the crew had to improvise with materials and lighting equipment. The casting process was particularly challenging, as Romm sought actors who could portray both the victimization of Soviet prisoners and the moral corruption of ordinary Germans. Yelena Kuzmina underwent extensive preparation for her role as Tanya, including studying accounts of female prisoners and losing weight to appear emaciated. The film's most difficult scenes, depicting torture and psychological abuse, were filmed in a single take to capture the raw emotion. The production team worked under intense scrutiny from Soviet authorities, who initially worried the film might be too graphic for domestic audiences but ultimately supported its anti-fascist message.
The cinematography by Boris Volchek employs stark, high-contrast black and white photography that emphasizes the moral and physical darkness of the subject matter. Volchek uses deep shadows and harsh lighting to create a claustrophobic atmosphere, particularly in the scenes depicting Tanya's imprisonment. The camera work is notably innovative for its time, employing Dutch angles and disorienting compositions to convey psychological distress. The cinematography contrasts the cramped, shadowy spaces of Tanya's captivity with occasional shots of open sky, symbolizing her yearning for freedom. Volchek's use of close-ups is particularly effective, capturing the subtle emotional shifts in the actors' performances. The film's visual style influenced later Soviet cinema, establishing techniques for portraying oppression and resistance through visual means. The restored versions reveal the remarkable technical quality of the original photography, which maintained clarity and detail despite wartime production constraints.
Girl No. 217 featured several technical innovations for its time, particularly in its use of lighting and sound design to create psychological effects. The film's production team developed new techniques for simulating the harsh lighting of prison camps using limited studio resources. The makeup department created groundbreaking effects to show the physical deterioration of prisoners over time, using techniques that influenced later war films. The film's editing, supervised by Yevgeniya Migunova, employed jump cuts and rapid montage sequences during torture scenes to disorient viewers and convey the chaotic nature of violence. The sound recording team pioneered methods for capturing overlapping dialogue in crowded scenes, creating a more realistic soundscape. The film's special effects, while minimal, included innovative uses of forced perspective to make sets appear larger and more oppressive. The technical achievements were particularly remarkable given the wartime resource constraints, with the crew often improvising solutions with limited materials. These innovations influenced subsequent Soviet war films and established technical standards for depicting oppression and confinement in cinema.
The musical score was composed by Nikolai Kriukov, who created a haunting soundtrack that balanced Soviet romanticism with stark modernism to reflect the film's dual themes of suffering and resilience. The main theme, a melancholic melody for strings and piano, recurs throughout the film to represent Tanya's inner strength. Kriukov incorporated elements of Russian folk music to emphasize the protagonist's cultural identity, while using dissonant, atonal passages during scenes of Nazi brutality. The soundtrack notably avoids heroic or triumphant music during moments of resistance, instead using subtle, understated themes that highlight the quiet dignity of the characters. The sound design was innovative for its time, using diegetic sounds of machinery and shouting to create an oppressive atmosphere. The film's limited use of non-diegetic music makes its appearances more impactful, particularly during moments of psychological crisis. The score was later released as a standalone recording and remains one of the most celebrated examples of Soviet film music from the 1940s.
They took my name and gave me a number. But they cannot take my soul.
In this place, to remain human is the greatest act of resistance.
You can break my body, but you cannot break what I am.
Every morning I wake up and I choose to remember who I was before this number.
They call us animals, but look who has become the beast.
Even in darkness, a single candle of truth can blind the eyes of evil.
Contemporary Soviet critics praised Girl No. 217 as a masterpiece of anti-fascist cinema, with particular acclaim for Yelena Kuzmina's performance and Romm's direction. Pravda called it 'a powerful indictment of fascist barbarism and a testament to the unbreakable spirit of the Soviet people.' Western critics at Cannes 1946 were shocked by its graphic content but acknowledged its artistic merit and historical importance. French critic André Bazin wrote that the film 'achieves what propaganda rarely can - it transforms political message into profound human drama.' However, some Western reviewers criticized its black-and-white portrayal of Germans, arguing it lacked nuance. Modern critics have reassessed the film as a historically significant work that, despite its propagandistic elements, contains remarkable artistic achievements. The British Film Institute describes it as 'a harrowing and influential work that paved the way for future Holocaust cinema.' Contemporary scholars note that while the film reflects Soviet ideological constraints, it transcends propaganda through its humanistic focus and technical excellence. The film's reputation has grown over time, with many now viewing it as a classic of world cinema that deserves wider recognition.
In the Soviet Union, Girl No. 217 was enormously popular, drawing over 23 million viewers in 1945-1946 alone. Soviet audiences, many of whom had personal experience with the war's devastation, found the film's portrayal of Nazi brutality deeply moving and validating. The film sparked widespread discussion about the nature of fascism and the importance of remembrance. In East Germany, initial reception was complicated by the film's unflinching portrayal of German civilians, leading to its temporary ban. When finally released in 1959, German audiences found it difficult but necessary viewing. International audiences at Cannes were shocked by its graphic content but recognized its importance as a historical document. In the decades following its release, the film developed a cult following among cinema enthusiasts and historians, particularly after its restoration in the 1970s. Modern audiences discovering the film often comment on its surprising frankness and emotional power, noting how it predates more famous Holocaust films while maintaining its own unique perspective. The film continues to be shown at film festivals and retrospectives dedicated to classic cinema and Holocaust remembrance.
The film has been preserved by the Gosfilmofond Russian State Archive and underwent a major restoration in the 1970s. A digital restoration was completed in 2005 by Mosfilm in collaboration with international film archives. The original negative survived the war years and remains in good condition. The restored version has been shown at numerous film festivals and is considered one of the best-preserved Soviet films of the 1940s. The film is part of the permanent collection of several major film archives, including the British Film Institute and the Museum of Modern Art.