Two Films About Prisoners of War

The treatment of prisoners was a matter of enormous importance in the propaganda of both sides. In order to encourage combatants to fight to the end and avoid falling into enemy hands, grim stories circulated about the cruelty and inhuman levels of repression on the other side of the trenches. These two films—one from each side— emphasize the opposite: the humane and rehabilitative treatment that awaited those fighters who chose to lay down their arms and surrender. Moreover, they allow us to observe the different discursive and visual strategies through which each side constructed its cinematic propaganda.

Our prisoners (Nuestros prisioneros) intended for international distribution with a French-language voiceover, was produced by the Subcommission for Agitation, Press, and Propaganda of the Republican Government. The film stands out for its use of testimony from specific individuals and for its handling of images, in which the editing does not significantly alter what was captured on the ground by the camera operators—mainly through panoramic shots of prisoners and descriptive portrayals of spaces of confinement. angled, avant-garde compositions that capture some of the prisoner parades are used to present important moments.

As for the use of testimonial voice, the film begins with an interview with a nurse from the Francoist side, affiliated with the Falange, who was captured in Brunete and confirms the good treatment she received, as well as the military effectiveness of the Republican army. It also includes a letter received by an Italian prisoner, in which a relative tells him that if he returns to Italy, the Fascists will consider him a deserter. Filmed on a set, another young Italian soldier recounts his journey and the good treatment he received after being taken prisoner. The documentary ends by portraying the captured Italians as “workers like us,” sent as cannon fodder by Mussolini.

In contrast, the narrative of Prisoners of War (Prisioneros de guerra), produced by the National Department of Cinematography, is shaped more by editing and staging, with certain situations constructed specifically for the viewer. The refined cinematography of Enrique Gaertner, along with a more emotional and forceful soundtrack, make it a strong example of the aesthetic horizon of Francoist cinematic propaganda. From the very opening credits, we witness staged scenes showing the apparent capture of enemy soldiers, as well as the image of a peasant’s feet stepping on an outline of Spain drawn on the ground. The film builds an idealized and exalted vision of the humanitarian treatment supposedly received by prisoners: carefully prepared meals, attentive nurses treating the wounded in idyllic settings, specific care for the mutilated, and above all, the idea of regeneration through labour. The prisoners are said to integrated into productive work in agriculture, industry, and mining.

Several highly expressive staged moments stand out, for example, when a badly-wounded, convalescing prisoner sits up and smiles upon seeing a crucifix; or when a clenched fist gradually turns into the “open hand” of the fascist salute. It is somewhat surprising that, given such a sensitive subject, the film’s musical accompaniment includes an accordion playing zarzuela tunes and a guitarist-singer performing a couple of tangos by Carlos Gardel.

VJB