Politics and power have played a leading role in all stages of humanity. As social stratification increased among people, various methods were tried for governance. These different religions, laws, taboos, traditions, and punishments became the fundamental building blocks to keep this power standing. The French Marxist philosopher Louis Althusser’s essay Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses addresses these issues more deeply. He divides the institutional structure of the state into two categories: Ideological State Apparatuses, which include social institutions like media, schools, religions, and family, and Repressive State Apparatuses, which include police, army, and judiciary. Ideology, instilled from early childhood, shapes the way we perceive the world, often unconsciously. These ideologies can lead to wars, chaos, and death, and their impact is frequently explored in art — literature, music, painting, and especially cinema.
Films that depict individuals crushed by power illustrate the conflict between political ideology and personal identity. These conflicts often end in defeat, submission, sacrifice, or escape for the characters involved. In the early period of cinema, with the rise of destructive power, «The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari» (1920) appeared on screens, reflecting the disillusionment of World War Iand the invisible pressure of authority, and the somnambulist Cesare became one of the first victim characters manipulated by this power. Cesare, committing murders against his will, and the eventual events hovering between reality and illusion, form the core of the power game.
From the 1930s onward, it was characterized by the strengthening of totalitarian regimes such as the Soviet Union, Fascism, and Nazism. These regimes, encompassing control over all aspects of life, violence, secret police services, manipulation, terror, and one-party governance, aimed to erase individuality, destroy entire societies, and manage them.
In the 1930s, Jean Renoir’s films on this subject were relevant. In «The Grand Illusion» (1937) and «The Rules of the Game» (1939), it can be seen that political power leads not only to the degradation of individuals but also to the moral and ethical decay of an entire crowd or society. Similarly, Italian neorealist director Roberto Rossellini, in «Rome, Open City» (1945) and «Paisan» (1946), shows how war and politics break people, from ordinary citizens to influential figures like the priest Don Pietro, whose authority and moral grounding are challenged under fascist oppression.
From the 1950s onward, the dominance of the Cold War and the consequences of war drove people into existential crises. The loss of faith in ideology and the exposure of the emptiness of the system brought heroes to the screen caught between political burdens and moral values. Andrzej Wajda’s «Ashes and Diamonds» (1958) follows Maciek, a resistance fighter in the final days of World War II, as he reluctantly carries out his final mission to assassinate a communist officer, realizing that even love and personal desires cannot survive such circumstances.
Another character spiritually destroyed by ideology is Marcello. In Bernardo Bertolucci’s «The Conformist» (1970), we see that by the end of the 1930s, the totalitarian regime will completely crush a person, and their personality and conscience must be sacrificed to ideological orders. Turning his personal trauma into a cold machine of rage, Marcello becomes an instrument of fascist conspiracy, planning and watching the deaths of his «differently thinking» professor and the woman he loves, which ultimately brings an end to his morality.
Zoltán Fábri, towards the end of World War II in Budapest, shows how war and politics mold even ordinary people into rigid patterns, forcing them into moral choices in «The Fifth Seal» (1976). Each of these choices has a destructive impact on the individual and on others, confirming once again that «everything and everyone is political». The far-right Hungarian ultranationalist Arrow Cross Party, in power for less than a year, caused the deaths of up to 15,000 people. Miklós Gyuricza, a simple watchmaker who appeared to be the strongest resistor within his friend group, when caught by officers, emerges as cowardly and even betrays his friends to save his own life. This betrayal is actually a betrayal of himself and his own ideals. At this moment, the audience also witnesses that Miklós had hidden Jewish children in his house. In politics, there is no right decision.
In Kamil Rüstembeyov’s «Dağlarda Döyüş» (1967), we witness the conflict of two perspectives: a Soviet border guard son and his father, who had been exiled and escaped during World War II for being captured. If years ago the war separated the son, now it is the fearful devotion and loyalty to ideology that divides them. The son, upon finding his father years later, burns more with the desire to hand him over to the Soviet government as a criminal than to believe in him. Though a propaganda film for its time, it actually shows how concepts of family, friendship, and kinship are consumed by the Soviet machine, and how the notion of the «Motherland» must come above all.
In the 1980s, Emir Kusturica portrays the repression of Yugoslavian communists on screen with film «When father was away on business». Following the Tito–Stalin split in the 1950s, political paranoia led to the persecution and sending of thousands to labor camps, including Meša. The fact that a single word could destroy you, and that this could be done by someone closest to you, questions Meša’s existence as a husband, father, and most importantly, a free human being. For Meša, caught in the circle of changing lovers and reform work, thoughts of ending his life seems like the only way out.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union, suppressed truths began to emerge more clearly. Nikita Mikhalkov’s «Burnt by the Sun» (1994) sheds light on Stalinist purges of the 1930s. The fairy-tale-like life of Kotov, a proud Red Army officer, is destroyed by the same system he once served, emphasizing the betrayal and fragility of human ideals under totalitarian power. Mitya, Kotov once ruined for being anti-communist and who married his former lover, returns as an NKVD political officer aiming to eliminate Kotov and, most importantly, take revenge. What breaks Kotov more than the fact that he will be killed is the realization that the ideals he believed in have failed, and that he has been betrayed by Stalin, whom he considered a friend. Yet here, the tragedy belongs more to Mitya than to Kotov. Screenwriter Rustam Ibrahimbeyov emphasizes that in Burnt by the Sun, Stalin is «the burning sun»: «totalitarian regimes take on a life of their own, destroying not only those whom they were originally intended to destroy but their creators as well».
Many facts confirm how harsh totalitarian regimes were for artists — they were forced not only to endure physical and psychological violence but also to act against their will in the creative process. In Chen Kaige’s «Farewell My Concubine» (1993), set against the backdrop of complex political changes in 20th-century China, the fragmentation of two Beijing opera actors’ identities as artists, friends, and most importantly, as human beings, is depicted. Japanese occupation, civil war, and the Cultural Revolution — each political upheaval attempts to «correct»the mistakes of the previous government by punishing people, each causing even worse outcomes. Even art, a refuge for artists, becomes a dangerous place for them. One of the most epic historical films in cinema, «Farewell My Concubine», shows how ideology and power can humiliate a person to extreme limits, and that even love and art cannot save them.
Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s «The Lives of Others» (2006) portrays a situation in 1980s Germany where the Stasi government intruded even into private lives. Each character in the film represents an aspect of the regime: playwright Dreyman, suspected by the state and forced to measure every breath; Dreyman’s actress lover Christa-Maria, crushed under the power; and the loyal secret policeman Wiesler, who monitors and reports their secret lives. Yet the film is mostly about «A Sonata About a Good Person». Wiesler, during the surveillance process, finds a path from psychological violence to a transformation of ideals, eventually saving Dreyman. But why did Wiesler do it — devotion, empathy, pity, or the first thought that he might be on the wrong path?
It is the human being who gives power to ideology and political machines. In all these films, from the early days of cinema to contemporary world cinema, the destructive power of politics and ideology is reflected through human experience. They show how power crushes the individual, shapes morality, and forces people into impossible choices. Yet, within this oppression, cinema also demonstrates resilience, conscience, and the moral courage to resist — even through the smallest acts. Ultimately, these stories remind us that behind every political system are human beings, capable of both causing and enduring immense suffering, and that the struggle to preserve humanity in the face of power is a timeless, universal story.