And the Violins Stopped Playing

In 1941, Dymitr Mirga, a renowned Romani violinist, performs for German soldiers in a Warsaw restaurant. The officers praise the music and reassure him that the removal of Warsaw's Jews has nothing to do with the Romani because they are 'Aryan' like the Germans. The performance highlights the looming danger while showcasing the cultural exchange that precedes persecution.

Following a warning from an escapee, Dymitr leads his family by train toward Brest-Litovsk, seeking safety beyond the capital. They join a band of Romani on the outskirts of Brest-Litovsk, hoping to endure the looming crackdown. The journey marks the beginning of a long and perilous escape.

A German commander visits the Romani settlement and tells them they will occupy houses once used by Jews relocated to camps. Dymitr immediately grasps that this is a prelude to deportation and pushes for evacuation to Hungary. The community's leadership resigns under pressure, paving the way for Dymitr to become the new leader.

The daughter Zoya Natkin, betrothed to the former leader’s son, chooses to marry Dymitr’s son Roman. The match binds Roman to Dymitr’s family and deepens the interwoven loyalties within the Romani community. The arrangement accelerates the leadership transition and reinforces their shared resolve.

On the trek toward Hungary, some Romani desert the group and are killed by Nazis, thinning the already vulnerable caravan. Those who remain press on under constant threat of discovery and violence. The journey underscores the brutal calculus of survival under occupation.

Several Romani split from the main group to appear as merchants, hoping to blend in and reduce attention from Nazi patrols. The ruse buys time but frays communal bonds as distrust grows. The plan reflects the desperate improvisations of refuge-seekers under siege.

Dymitr’s small convoy sells their jewels to acquire horses from another Romani community, enabling faster travel. The ploy keeps the group moving, though it comes at a price in terms of wealth and potential betrayals. The sacrifice illustrates the lengths to which they go to survive.

Against the odds, the surviving Romani reach Hungary, though their numbers are greatly diminished. The group includes Wala, Dymitr’s wife; Roman, his son; Zoya and her family; and the son of the former leader, who becomes a rival to Roman. The sense of precarious victory hangs over their arrival.

As the war progresses, Nazi influence leads to the overthrow of the Hungarian government in 1944. The political shift compounds the danger for Romani communities living in Hungary, accelerating their drift toward internment or deportation. The collapse crystallizes the collapse of any fragile protection they might have.

A Nazi column captures the Romani and transports them to Auschwitz, where Dr. Mengele conducts medical experiments on prisoners. The journey marks a grim escalation from forced relocation to systematic extermination. The camp atmosphere sets a stage of grim patriarchal control and dehumanization.

Before the main transport arrives, Dymitr’s daughter makes a desperate escape through the window of one cattle truck. Her escape injects a glimmer of hope into the convoy and demonstrates the persistence of resistance within the family. The escape also foreshadows possible reunions amid the chaos.

At Auschwitz, Dymitr is coerced to perform for the Nazis, using his violin to numb the brutality around him. Roman, serving as a translator, earns minor privileges that momentarily shield him from the worst. The death of Zoya darkens the family’s resolve and pushes Roman toward thoughts of escape.

Roman and his former rival decide to risk an escape, aware that their families are marked for death. The attempt succeeds, and they reconnect with Roman’s younger sister, who had previously escaped from a cattle truck. The reunion crystallizes a slim hope for survival beyond the camp walls.

With the war finally over, three Romani carriages head off into the setting sun, carrying those who survived and perhaps others left behind. The narrator closes by lamenting that the Gypsy nation has yet to receive any compensation for its losses. The ending frames a somber note about restitution and recognition.