At the 2002 Hungarian Film Festival Réka Lemhényi
was awarded the most significant prize for editors, the Golden Scissors. This young
energetic editor is not only a good professional but also a colourful personality. She is
often sought after for work also due probably to her good adaptability. (Her last
assignment was Szabolcs Hajdu's latest film, Tamara). At first Réka protested
against the interview, saying that "in this field everyone's a liar and a
dreamer", but in the end got carried away by story-telling. It is through her
individual outlook that we have a chance to glance into the (vital) work of editors.
You grew up and spent your youth in Kolozsvár,
Romania, moving to Hungary only later. Did you have any decisive experiences that might
explain your attraction to films? What were you interested in as child?
The most important impressions were made by the Kolozsvár
theatre which I started visiting with my parents and brother from the age of four.
Incidentally my father wanted to become an actor but having got onto the list of kulaks he
had to modify his profession, which is how he became a Calvinist vicar. My mother adored
the theatre and I always wanted to become an actress. The only thing remaining from this
desire of mine is a mirror that I got when I was a child as the "most important
accessory of an actress" - it still stands beside my bed.
What was your relationship with films and
photography - did you read comics? (For some reason this is what I imagine people who go
on to choose a similar profession do). What kind of cultural environment did you grow up
in?
I didn't read many comics; the few French children's
magazines I laid my hands on were a big deal mainly because they came from "the
west". But I did watch masses of films, first and foremost on television. I have lots
of memories of them. I stayed at home an incredible amount (at first I really was ill but
later I just pretended) so I was able to watch loads of films. One of these memorable
experiences was Miklós Jancsó's The Round-up. I must have seen it around the
age of nine in the seventies. I had no idea what it was and only identified it later in
the Hungarian program of Romanian Television, broken down into a thirty-minute
"series". Although the air-time of these programs was constantly
"shrinking", Romanian TV broadcast many interesting films. Naturally these
tended to be Soviet movies which we didn't remember either the title or the director of -
it was the story and pictures that counted. There was a very good selection of classics as
well: they showed Chaplin films, Neorealists and I also had the chance to
"struggle" as a child through the works of Bergman. (What's more all in the
original language; the Romanians didn't dub films, so they also served as language
practice.) There were of course important films for adolescents - often of very high
quality. I still remember the music of a Romanian film entitled Veronica - I saw it
countless times. This was when I started going to the cinema and watched the major Russian
films by Tarkovsky and Mihalkov. Often we'd see the same thing several times because we
tended to choose the cinema rather than the actual film. I remember that towards the end
of his life Tarkovsky was banned, which meant that although his name was taken off the
posters, the title remained and the film continued to be shown. I wasn't particularly
attracted to photography at the time, but I had a go at it nonetheless. I had a Smena
camera with which I took nice "blurred" pictures, and I attended a photo club in
the pioneer centre. When I was fourteen I worked for a summer in a photo lab. I also spent
a lot of time loitering around one of my uncles who, although not a professional, was very
good at photography.
Your years at grammar school coincided with the
end of the Ceausescu era. How did you live through the collapse of the regime as a
teenager?
This was a very unsettled period for me as well. There were
only two (twelve grade) grammar schools at the time in Kolozsvár so there was quite
serious competition to get in and stay in. However, before entering the eleventh grade
permission was granted for the launching of only one Hungarian class out of the five and
we had to take entrance exams. The aim was to "Romanianize" the institute. The
following year teaching was conducted in Romanian in both classes. Though it was tricky,
they managed to achieve this by transferring children from another school and mixing the
classes. I reacted badly to the changes and, although partly connected to family issues, I
often skived off school. Many of my friends sold books from stands in the main square of
Kolozsvár and instead of going to lessons, I would help them - in the daytime in school
uniform. In the end I completed my studies at an evening course which at the time
consisted of ideal, "easy-going" lessons, and also managed to pass my
matriculation exams. This coincided with the very troubled times directly before the
revolution when there were no longer any stakes and everyone was just trying to survive. I
made friends with people much older than me, the "alternative" intellectuals of
Kolozsvár. My best friend Tibor Gáll who works as a graphic artist in Berlin used to
call me "filter". I think he was right because although I often didn't
understand what people were talking about, all these experiences formed a
"deposit" in me.
What were your plans for further education?
I still wanted to be an actress but I had no chance. (I
would have applied to Marosvásárhely where they took one contestant per year,
exclusively on the basis of corruption of course). I was also interested in art history so
I ended up doing a college course where I trained as a fashion designer.
When did you move to Hungary?
I first came on my own to the funeral of a relative a month
after the outbreak of the revolution in January 1990. Many of my friends (from the
previously mentioned circle) had by then managed to move to Hungary (the first Formula 1
races held in 1986 gave an opportunity for a huge tide of emigration). This day remains
very vivid in my memory. I arrived at the Western railway station, and as I got out into
the boulevard I stood stock-still from the "culture shock" triggered by Skála
Metro department store. First I just watched the bustle and the people and then out of the
100Ft in my pocket I bought a pear for 70Ft (I thought that eating a pear in winter really
was freedom itself). Then, getting more and more nervous, I phoned a friend (I also had to
ask for assistance in using the push-button telephone) and asked him to accompany me to a
certain address. (As I later found out, all I'd have had to do was cross over to the other
side of the road to Jókai Street.)
And you eventually "got stuck" here
in Hungary?
Yes, I spent an increasing amount of time here, enjoying it
more and more. I sort of relived my adolescence and had tons of friends most of whom went
to the College of Fine Arts. The following years consisted of a series of adventures: I
devoured the various opportunities - I wanted to try out everything. At times I felt like
becoming a photographer, a journalist, at others an art historian, but I also attended
movement theatre groups. Most of the time though I was just happy to be here. I worked in
all kinds of places because my degree in fashion design wasn't much use to me. I was a
secretary at several companies, then ended up at the newspaper Kurír, and when that
closed down I got into the literary group Kossuth Printing House. In the meantime I became
keener and keener on photography and had two goes at getting in to the College of Applied
Arts but always failed in the drawing tests. Finally my degree was accepted at the ELTE
aesthetics department and I studied there for two terms in 1993. My teachers (such as
Péter Balassa, Sándor Radnóti, György Poszler) were "gods" in my eyes.
Incidentally it was during the lessons of András Rényi that I received the biggest
impulses that turned me towards film. Thanks to the knowledge that I acquired there I was
accepted at the College of Cinematic Art when I applied in 1995.
Why did you happen to choose the editing
course?
This was a completely accidental choice; a friend of mine
who knew my "past record" and interests recommended it to me. The fact that I
was accepted is also curious since I had no experience whatsoever as opposed to the other
contenders who had been working as editors. It was probably due to my theoretical
grounding.
What sort of medium did you enter in the
college?
My first impressions were pretty mixed because we learnt
lots of theory and participated in very little practice which slightly alarmed me. Our
teacher was Hajnal Sellö who greatly surpassed her role: she was everything in one, at
times even our "mother". Based on my temperament I didn't really belong among
the editors. Hajnal remarked that in the first years she didn't think I'd become a good
professional because editors are usually quiet, calm and adaptable people, whereas I am
more the passionate type. I was also very lucky with my class. Our year was launched with
"experimental" intentions. According to the concept of our class teacher Sándor
Simó we learnt everything jointly - masses of theory in the first two years. At the end
of each term we got tasks of directing, shooting etudes on video and taking photos. We
always worked together, doing only the assignments of our own courses separately. Although
we were pretty laid-back, Simó managed to forge a community out of us. (In the recent
past he was possibly the only class teacher who took his group right through, otherwise
teachers tended to change from year to year). It was also his idea that all graduating
directors should pass their finals with a full-length feature film, and while he was alive
he made this possible. This is how five first-time directors came up with full-length
feature films such as Hukkle (by György Pálfi), Sticky Matters
(Macerás ügyek by Szabolcs Hajdu), Streetwalkers (Ébrenjárók by Bence
Miklauzic), Forward (Előre! by Dániel Erdélyi) and Moscow Square
(Moszkva tér by Ferenc Török) - all in Hunnia Film Studios run by Simó. He was also
the producer for Sticky Matters which led to the transformation of the
teacher-pupil relation into colleagues. Simó wasn't very lenient, in fact he was
particularly strict with deadlines and money matters, but in artistic concepts gave a free
hand and only offered his opinion. There were a few other personalities among the teachers
who meant an incredible lot to me (and for decades to other students as well): Mrs
Fövény, Mrs Szölössy and Emil Petrovics.
Were you satisfied with the professional
opportunities the college provided? Did you feel that you had been prepared for
independent work?
Only after a few years did I understand why editing is so
difficult to teach. Hajnal Sellö, as I have mentioned, was an excellent teacher. Editing
doesn't have much literature and you can't really prescribe how you have to do things.
That is, a "canon" exists which is slightly dated by now and its foundations
established on the so-called "common law" are also outmoded - what's more
important however is your outlook, sense of rhythm and taste, which also change with time.
There are no two materials that can be handled in the same way. Each material has its own
rhythm and language. That's why it is difficult to answer the question of what is your
editing style. You have to edit in the style required by the material. Each cut has an
internal impulse but you always must take into consideration the unity of the film as
well. Each viewpoint is the subject of discussion because the director and the editor have
different opinions, sense of rhythm etc. There is never one single right solution, instead
you have to choose from the many good ones the very best and this of course is
time-consuming. If there was no pressure coming from the producers you could spend years
editing a film. Generally time and money are saved on the editing: you are continuously
struggling with lack of time (especially because of the annual Hungarian Film Festival).
And the speeding up of the process usually happens at the expense of the end product, for
a film in the stages of editing is like an embryo. It has its own course of development,
maturing period and if it's forced it will be born premature.
The editing room slightly resembles a torture
chamber: it's a small and dark place where the director is confronted by all the mistakes
committed during the creative process of the film.
The confrontation is both stressful and painful, since it
is here that the director sees the completed shot material he has worked on for years
which in most cases is not quite what he had in mind. It is here that rhythmic errors,
dramaturgical disproportions, weaker acting performances and mishaps of photography have
to be corrected. The director's emotional ups and downs also have to be tolerated because
you "move in" together for months almost. Once the initial sock is over exciting
and creative team work can begin which is like a never-ending chess match where you are
always allowed to retract your last step. The viewer of course sees nothing of this in the
end result.
How much do you feel that editing is an
artistic achievement for you (naturally you have/had such ambitions) or do you
"only" consider yourself as a good "craftsman" who works closely with
the director?
I don't know whether I've had enough experience to judge
this. I think it varies from work to work. The "big adventure" was Sticky
Matters because the raw version didn't in the least correspond to the envisioned
material. This is where it became evident how creative and ready for compromise Szabolcs
Hajdu was: he was always willing to abandon the previous version. He's a director who
makes films on the editing table; this is a type. He enjoys editing and regards it a joint
creative work where you can try out everything. It would have been a classically edited
film but Szabolcs wasn't content with that variant. He has a playful mind; we experimented
a lot while working, and he was tiring to work with because editing a Szabolcs Hajdu film
is the equivalent of editing five traditional films. In general we edit at least five
completely finished but very different films from the same raw material. He's the type of
director who demands the maximum or even more from an editor and this is trying partly
because of the lack of time and party because it is a huge task.
So your freedom is determined less by the genre
than the disposition of the director?
It is probably dependent on both. Editing documentaries
always seemed freer to me, maybe because I worked with directors who gave me complete
freedom and because with feature films screenplays determine many things. If however the
shot material is very different, there's still room for plenty of changes. The disposition
of the director is certainly a key issue as two contradicting experiences of mine can
illustrate. As a second-year college student I was offered the amazing opportunity in 1998
of editing Árpád Sopsits' film entitled Fly-trap (Légyfogó). It was deep
water for me - what's more several people cautioned me against Sopsits, because apparently
from time to time he "beats" editors. I was very scared of him, although
initially he was kind and patient. It became clear that he was very good at editing and I
learnt a lot from him. Sopsits continuously asked for my opinion but (as I gradually
realized) only to contradict me. Then he would rebuke me in an unbelievable manner. For a
time I tolerated it, but then I became so afraid of him that I started yelling. From then
on we kept quarrelling. The other "extreme" was an assignment in Berlin in 2001
of editing a documentary. I was given complete freedom; the director told me in advance
all that he wanted and then showered twenty hours of material on me in one bulk. Each day
we spent hours talking, but he never sat behind my back. He only watched the film after a
phase had been finished, and then we took it to pieces. Fortunately he liked my work a
lot.
Were you satisfied with the technical
facilities that the college provided or did you learn through your later work to use more
modern methods?
Hajnal Sellö taught us the traditional
"Steinbeck" (35mm editing table) technique but in 1996, coinciding with my
studies, the college received its first computerised editing equipment, AVID. So much care
was taken of it at first that you couldn't even look at it, let alone work on it.
Fortunately I made friends with Béla Barsi who at the time was a college technician (he
was this year's Golden-scissors editor) and entrusted with learning how to operate the
machine. I was always attracted to computerised editing and I actually prefer it. True, it
requires a totally different pace and working method and is much more tiring. Because on
the editing table each cut leaves its mark on the work print you have to consider each
step more thoroughly, in fact you must be able to see the conclusion of the game in
advance. It's a real drag. On the other hand "Steinbeck" is more leisurely: by
the time you've completed a cut on the celluloid and the sound track you will have had a
rest.
On a computer this all happens at the push of a button; a bad move can be retracted
immediately. In a shorter space of time I can try out and see many more variations,
without having to play it all in my head. This way I am constantly making decisions
because I need to carry out many more operations. And in each situation the doubt arises
as to whether it really is the best solution for the given task. So it means not only
physical but also mental exertion. (Apparently six hours at the computer is the equivalent
of ten hours of "Steinbeck".) Returning to the topic of the college however, I
got to know this technique through Béla Barsi and later I often called him even during
work when I got technically stuck because he was always two steps ahead of me. I have much
to thank him for. I had the chance to get acquainted with the most modern methods during
István Szabó's film Sunshine (A napfény íze) in 1998. I was asked to work as
an assistant beside a professional Canadian editing couple (they had been editing a James
Bond movie) and the equipment had been brought from Munich. It was at their invitation
that I went to Canada, mainly to see my brother but as I was offered work I had a go at
that as well. I worked in Montreal in a post-production studio where there where eight
editing rooms equipped with the latest machines. It wasn't only the technology that was
overwhelming it was the "treatment" too. For example, the computer drives are
located in a separate room and are operated by a special technician. In Hungary the editor
has to do everything; he's his own assistant and technician and has to solve all the
practical issues - despite the fact that almost every studio has a different set-up. Not
to mention the finances - at home it is quite a job to "collect" your salary.
What other problems do you have to struggle
with if you want to keep your professional "development" in mind?
The greatest problem originates in the timing of the
distribution of state funds. Because of this different offers of work come all at once.
Hungarian films are shot at the same time (in summer) and editing begins in autumn so as
to be ready for the Film Week. Then after the Film Week (February) you can wait again till
the autumn to edit another feature film. For example for the sake of Csaba Fazekas' film
(Happy Birthday!) I cancelled three others (by Kornél Mundruczó, György Pálfi and
György Dobray), but Csaba was only able to start shooting a year later. Until then I was
out of work and ended up editing Szabolcs Hajdu's Tamara that I had previously
accepted. These are all great losses though I think I regret Hukkle (György
Pálfi) the most.
Does the Madzag Association* also have a role
in getting you work or is it more that your friendship determines your work relations?
Yes, this has become very important to us in our work. With
Simó's death we signed a kind of "blood treaty". In reality this isn't a pressure
group, it's more a workshop society. It consists of eight directors and two editors (Béla
Barsi is the other one). It is a source of recognition for us that we can see into the
early stages of film-making. Everyone gets a copy of the screenplay and we go through it
together.
What did the Golden Scissors Award mean to you?
I was very glad to get it. Acknowledgement however goes
with responsibility - since then I've been weighing each cut even more carefully.
(* The Madzag Association: Madzag Filmegylet in Hungarian - an association of
young Hungarian filmmakers who studied at the Academy of Drama and Film in the same class,
led by Sándor Simó. Members are: Dániel Erdélyi, Csaba Fazekas, Gábor Fischer, Diana
Groó, Szabolcs Hajdu, Bence Miklauzic, Gyögy Pálfi, Ferenc Török (directors) and two editors: Béla Barsi, Réka
Lemhényi - the editor)
Szabolcs Hajdu: Kicsimarapagoda (1998) 29 Kbyte |
Kicsimarapagoda 31 Kbyte |
Szabolcs Hajdu: Sticky Business (2000) 54 Kbyte |
Sticky Business 109 Kbyte |
in the middle: László Katona and Orsolya Török-Illyés 103 Kbyte |
to the right: Miklós Jancsó, to the left: József Vásári 89 Kbyte |
Illés Nyitrai and Orsolya Török-Illyés 75 Kbyte |
Sticky Business 88 Kbyte |
Domokos Szabó and Illés Nyitrai 71 Kbyte |
Kornél Mundruczó: Afta (2001) 115 Kbyte |
Tamás Polgár in the middle 70 Kbyte |
Orsolya Török-Illyés in Szabolcs Hajdu: Tamara (2003) 137 Kbyte |
Tamara 97 Kbyte |
Tamara 18 Kbyte |
Illés Nyitrai in Tamara 42 Kbyte |
Tamara 69 Kbyte |