Another guy from Madzag Association emerged from Sándor Simó's class. His first feature film achieved major success at the 2003 Film Week, later it also became popular at cinemas. The director who made a film about the panic around the age of 30 is already over the panic, and he is trying to make use of his creativity, versatility not only in films, but also in interior design, architecture and cooking.

How did your career start? When did you decide to become a director?

To tell you the truth, originally I wanted to be an actor. I had a grandfather who finally became a pharmacist, but had always wanted to be an actor. He made me love acting and Hungarian films. On the other hand, my parents were far from being happy about it. Their intention was to give me a job that provides security, so under their influence, began my studies at the law school of Miskolc, but I didn't really enjoy it. You could see it in my results. One year later I had the opportunity to work in New York for five months. I washed dishes, waited tables and played the piano in a restaurant. In the meantime, the decision took shape in me that I wouldn't continue my studies at the law school. When I returned home, I moved to Budapest, and entered a private drama school. Here it soon turned out that acting was not my cup of tea. My parents suggested me going to a media school, from where I went to Hungarian TV's cultural department where I participated in editing programs, such as 'Múzsa', 'Ostromnapok', 'Napközi'.

I suppose, this was only one step from college.

Yes, in 1995, luckily I was admitted to the film-directing department, into Sándor Simó's class.

What did college mean to you?

It was an unbelievably great experience! I felt at last that here I found my own medium. It was a kind of feeling when you say, yeah, here I feel great. Earlier I was rather introvert, but with Simó's help I slowly opened up, and my classmates, as well, and we gradually began to turn towards each other. We really owe him a lot, since we've never looked at one other as rivals. Madzag Association was spirituality developed by our teacher, and of course, this way we can revive the fantastic time we spent together at college, we don't really want to get away from. We try to help each other, read each other's scripts, give our opinion, discuss ideas.

How long do you think this principle of one for all, all for one can work under current Hungarian circumstances?

I hope, for a long time. We have to accept that we can't make a film every year, at least not from the state's money. This is the case, take it or leave it. In the last two years of the college we learnt that we'd have to make use of "passive" time, when we're not shooting moves. We must read a lot, work ahead, write a lot, since the development of a character or building the turns of the plot doesn't work immediately. Moreover, when you start preparation, you don't have time or energy to deal with it. And if you're well prepared, there's less tension in you, less uncertainty, and you can work more smoothly. In the end you feel less regret, too.

I suppose it's also important because such a professional crew you were working with expects efficient work and composedness from the director. Working with a debutant, they see things from a more critical angle and they also test how well prepared you are. Colleagues easily see such deficiencies, too.

That's right. My producer, Laurin Film is especially critical in it, and they are right. My film didn't have too big budget, so I had only a little time for shooting. Everything had to be in place. We had to decide every minor detail in advance, for instance, what should be on the shelf behind the character, because these had to be built into the budget, they had to be bought, there was no time for finding these things out on the spot.

By the way, who decides in these questions? To what extent do you stick to your ideas in a film? Or do you let the visual designer, the costume designer or the photographer to follow his or her own thoughts?

There's a total control on my side, which I hope doesn't mean absolute authority. I just try to take the picture that took shape in my head and place it into reality. The reason why we prepare everything so carefully is to be able to produce the film I invented on the big screen, too. In general, I exactly know what I want to see, e.g. what objects should be around the characters, and how much we need from everything. I knew even what my actress needed to wear, from head to toe; I lent the eyeglasses, for example! So it's always me to find out the basics. My colleagues contribute to this, which always makes me swoon. It's fantastic to see that somebody becomes more creative because of my ideas, adds something, and tops up the basic idea, which will really work. Such as Eszter's idea, the wig. She found it out and it worked brilliantly. This is how we work with the photographer. I tell him how I imagine a given scene, and he tells me how it can be realised and what might be added.

And the direction of the performers? Is there a total control there, too?

Well, perhaps, you should ask my parents. although, I believe, there is. You know when you write the script, you already know where to put the emphasis in a sentence and that's what you want to hear from the performers. When we talked about the role, I asked Eszter to play at a low key. It was a great feeling that when she saw the film, she told me, I had been right. The reason why I like her so much is because she's very bright. She knows how far she can get and what is too much. But that's also true of Gergő Kocsis.

You mentioned script writing. What's the process like in your case?

First, there are only fragments, flashes in my head, perhaps possible ways to choose from when writing it. Here you have to consider, since during the one-year of shooting we'll have to follow the way I had chosen on a Tuesday evening at my desk. I tend to consider a lot, but I'm capable of making the decision at the right moment. The fragments slowly start to get together. They are always in my head, while travelling, driving, cooking; the lines begin to interweave, getting thicker, like a rope. Then you write down your thoughts, the re-writes them, and the third version will be handed to the scriptwriter, who reads it as an outsider. It's unbelievable that often it's only the matter of one or two sentences and the character finds it position. In the case of my latest film I feel that I should have given one more sentence to the boy, but I haven't found the suitable one so far, although I know where I should put it.

After how many versions is a film ready and how long does it take to write it?

There are usually three serious versions with real changes in them. It usually takes three times three weeks of continuous work, with one-month breaks in between. In Happy Birthday! first of all, the story of the girl took shape in my head, the boy's story came later.

When a story is about to be born in your mind, to what extent can you see the characters in front of you? Do you have given performers and you write the script to them, or you just imagine them and find the fight person at casting?

I know Hungarian actors and actresses' performance very well, even their voice. It's my hobbyhorse to get as much information as I can whether they play in Budapest or in the country. Since I'm a regular theatregoer, I more or less know the performers' abilities and what I can make of them. I have a sort of "actor's register" in my head and when it comes to casting I just need to "finger it through". Gergő Kocsis was already chosen, since he had played in my college exam film. And I've always wanted to work with Eszter Ónodi, but I haven't written the script to them. In my current script, however, I have three performers in my mind (he smiles) and maybe I should ask them whether they take the role or not, because if they can't, well, I can't imagine the film with anybody else.

As regards script writing, first you intended to make a totally different examination film. Can you tell me a few words about this plan no yet realized?

My first idea was to make a Dostoyevsky-adaptation, but Simó told me to forget it, because I wouldn't be able to get money for such a large-scale job. My second idea was also a rather costly and large-scale movie, a burlesque with vampires and lots of music with the subtitle: "Mute film with lots of talk". It meant to be a musical with a lot of a music, dance and great, transforming comedians, of whom the film would have required a more stylised acting with theatrical gestures. It could have been a good study for how "too much" can be good. Of course, it could've been easier to fail with it, so perhaps it was all right to stay on safer grounds. The topic wouldn't have received the necessary financial support either, which is a pity, because in Hungary we also need musical films and other genre movies. Hopefully, the one I'm now working on will be realised, although the question whether we can raise enough money is always there.

Talking about money, don't you feel that as long as you're here, this'll always be a problem in Hungary? Don't you think that you'll have to make compromises all the time?

We have to accept that this is the way films are financed in Hungary, and there's no film industry. If somebody wants to make a movie here, one has to make compromises. You always need to consider. But the point is to make the movie according to the intention of the creators. I always discuss questions with my producers and luckily we always found the same things important and necessary. Of course, there are annoying situations, like the one where there's no rain machine, only three water hoses, and it doesn't rain the way it should. You're just standing there and you want to explode because there's no money for anything and you think that in a great American blockbuster there are no such problems. Later, I watch the film again, and I see that it doesn't matter which way the rain falls, because it has no significance at all from the point of view of the scene or the acting. Or could talk about the extras. Perhaps I imagine how great it'd be to have for more extras, I realise that they'd be invisible anyway and they wouldn't play a part in the progress of the story. Of course, I don't mean to say that you must leave everything and give up everything that seems to be superfluous, but you have to consider things and sacrifice the rain machine and the extras, too, without any debate or shouting. For this you need sober way of thinking and need to feel you really want to make the film by keeping the budget framework and not risking the payment of others working on the film.

Despite all this, you don't want to experience working under conditions where.

 .. there's a rain machine? You mean, do I like working under conditions where it's not a problem?            

Yes, like in America, that's why it attracts so many artists. You have also been there. 

That's true and I love New York, but I don't care about Hollywood. But even over there it's rare to have unlimited amount of money in every film. First, I'd like to be a good Hungarian director who makes films of European quality. I hope there'll be more opportunities for this after the accession. The dream factory is not my dream, I'm rather attracted to co-productions. I'd love to make films in different countries, on beautiful conditions, even amidst luxurious circumstances, such as The Talented Mr. Ripley, but I also like Wenders' films, because he travels a lot when shooting his films.

So, you're thinking of co-productions, by all means, because you don't want to get away from Hungary? 

Definitely. And although I'd love to work abroad, since that's why I learnt languages and I want to make use of them yet, my home background is very important. Without it I would feel strangely insecure. I still need it, because without it I'm unable to pull myself together and to be decisive, which is indispensable in this job. 

Obviously, there are some foreign performers who you'd love to work with and make a script for.

Of course. I love Kate Blanchett and it'd be great to work with Edward Norton. But they are only distant, unreachable dreams. There are a great many among the Hungarian actors and actresses. I'd work with pleasure and whom I adore. First of all, I want to stand my ground at home and I want to prove that I'm a good director, then, later I'd show what I know abroad. But so far, I'd love to show my films to the Hungarian public. I'm excited to see how they react to it.            

Seeing the awards of the Film Week, your prospects appear to be bright.

Yes, but it was only the professionals, and the layer of public that's interested in Hungarian films. I'm also interested in what the people of the street say.

Is the public so important to you? 

Yes. I do what I like, and I want others to like it, too. I believe that we can make high quality films for the public in Hungary, a film that's entertaining, relaxing, but not cheap. 

I suppose, your film can be seen at festivals, too. 

Yes, I'm planning to go to Italy with my leading actress and we're already competing about whose Italian is better by them. I know that my film is not a typical festival movie, since it doesn't contain any innovation in the language of form, although that's what festivals love. This is rather a public movie. Nevertheless, it'd be great to appear at several places, win a prize here and there abroad, but I know what kind of films get the festival awards and I'm also aware that my film can't compete with them. My approach is rather ironic to ordinary things, although I'd love to deal with topics that affect a lot of people or questions that are difficult to answer. However, in my job innovations are more important, or the fact the film is uniform and viewers feel that everything is in place, yet it's relaxed, without any sweat or effort. 

You aren't interested in experimenting or innovations at all?

I am, but in a different way. I don't want to experiment with the expressive means of the language of form, but rather with its narrative build-up. I've always been interested in films, the plot of which isn't built in a linear way, yet it is a complete and whole story. My two favourite films - Amarcord and Annie Hall - are like this. I've always wanted to know how to find continuity in spite of the fact that the scene doesn't continue from the end of the previous one. 

You seem to be attracted to ordinary topics and personal problems. The central theme of Happy Birthday! - the panic around the age of thirty - is also taken form your own life, isn't it? 

Absolutely! But in my life it place when I was twenty-six. I felt I was nearing thirty and I don't even have a film, or a life, at least not the way I imagined it. Around that age we start thinking about the fact that our parents (in my case) had two kids, with a good job and secure financial background, but in my life everything is in the making. So I started to panic and the film was born out of that feeling, which soothed me by now. I see everything in a completely different way. Everything is changing around me. I'm moving into a new flat, I've done my first film, new jobs and people await me, I feel the panic has gone and I can step into my third decade relaxed. Or maybe a little more relaxed. 

What is it that you must have in this profession? 

The belief in yourself and your ideas. This is a lonely job. During shooting you're standing there with 30 people, so you don't really feel it, but you're alone. Circumstances are not always favourable and definitely far from being ideal, so decisiveness and preparedness are very important, and you need to be sure that what you do is good and work well. Of course, the colleagues' expertise helps a lot. The presence of Tamás Sas or my assistant, Judit Bíró is important, but when you have to do overtime and you know that one cut is absolutely necessary for the scene, but everyone else wants to go home, you finally make them do that set, although they hate you, because after that you sit at the editing machine and take the responsibility for the whole chaos called film. 

What kind of feeling is it to sit beside the editor and watch the recorded material? 

It's really hard, because only then does it turn out whether it is there or not on the screen what I really wanted. In the beginning I was reluctant to see the materials, because I dreaded facing facts. Luckily, we have a really good working relationship with Béla Barsi. He almost breathes with the film and the director and is always present at shooting. He knew exactly what I wanted. Of course, we didn't edit the material linearly, but rather like a puzzle. There were scenes I wanted to see immediately. When it was ready and you watch the film from beginning to end, well, that's tough again.

Did you show it to anybody? Whose opinion do you ask for on such occasions? 

Of course, I wanted to hear my producers' opinion, Kornél Sipos and Zsófia Kende, as well as that of my closest colleagues'. Apart from this, Laurin film also organised a test projection with a paid test audience that assessed the film from several viewpoints on a questionnaire.It was a great feeling to get eight points out of the maximum ten. And of course, the awards of Film Week are also very important, but I'm still excited about how the public will like the film. I think I'm going to wander from cinema to cinema, watching people's reactions secretly, if they laugh at what I wanted to be a joke or if it makes an impression on them at all.

What's next, if the fuss around the premier is over and you've returned from the festivals? 

I'd like to shoot commercials, because that might be a continuous job with good money, but without references as a debuting director I don't think I have a place there. It can begin after the launch of my movie in September. Anyway, there are two scripts I'm working on and I'd like to make a film out of them sooner or later. Till then I'm going to deal with interior design I'm studying now, or my old hobby, cooking, which is quite similar to filming, actually. The idea of a dish is born in your head, the recipe of this can be the script, then you prepare the production, get the ingredients, and go to market to invite the "performers" or buy the ingredients. Then comes shooting, cooking itself, which in my case equals with meditation, especially if I make a rich soup. After that the work is ready and is "served" to the public, to your friends. And it turns out only then what the end result is like, in spite of all your goodwill and talent, how harmonious the tastes are, what it is like as a whole, what gastronomic enjoyment it can offer.