An interview by Erika Ozsda

I have been on holiday all my life

It is the responsibility of the production manager to create all the personal, financial and material opportunities necessary for the film and to ensure shooting providing the most cost-effective financial conditions possible, while accommodating the needs of the director. His task is the organisation and payment of staff, provision of locations, contracting the actors - based on discussions with the director.

Lajos Gulyás has worked as unit manager in 26 films and as production manager in 48 ones.

He received an award in 1982 - becoming the Master of Film Making.


When was this picture taken?

In 1951.

You were a handsome man.

I was a smart guy, yes. I used to work already in the film branch as a mason in the sculptor's workshop at that time. I built scenery. That's where I got to the film The sea is rising from in 1952. I joined the branch there. It was a wonderful film in two parts.

[Gulyas Lajos in 1954]
In the movie Szakadék, 1954.

Kunszentmiklós
Fotó: Inkei Tibor
169 KBytes

What was a shooting like then?

Very tough. A lot of money was at stake. The film cost 16 millions, which was an enormous amount at that time!

How much was a feature film in those days?

A million.

And why was this one so expensive?

Many costumes had to be made and the army armed. Entire battalions were stationed with all the horses and men, but this was financed by the army as well, not only by the film factory.

How could one get so much money for this?

First of all: the chief director was Kálmán Nádasdy, who was a great name then. The film was written by Gyula Illyés, the cameraman was Barnabás Hegyi. Associate directors were László Ranódy and Mihály Szemes. This film was regarded as a national monument. Something which could be displayed.

Was the film directed by three people?

Yes. Everybody had their own tasks. Nádasdy was the art director, Ranódy acted as art manager - Szemes as technical manager. Nádasdy dealt exclusively with the artists, Ranódy did the environment, the extras, Szemes took care of the horses and coaches. The army supported the film by horses and equipment. Besides, there were two splendid first assistants to the director, who later became directors on their own right, György Hintsch and László Nádasy. Well, I got into this branch. Side by side with star actors like Petõfi-János Görbe, Bem-Zoltán Makláry. This Soviet-frenzy was still on then, so they brought in a Soviet advisor as well, right from Moscow. I became the stage inspector... Why, I ran a lot!

The stage inspector is the call-boy?

Yes, the general servant. I brought coffee, ran for the actors, horses, properties. I helped everyone. There was a camera operator, he let me carry his 60 kilogram machine. Then there was an even larger and even heavier camera, with heavy lead facing... I had to carry that, too. Yet indeed, I belonged directly under the director. Once an idiot said that a Hungarian soldier stood and his wrist watch glittered up on the hill some 500 meters from where we were. The revolutionary soldier from 1848. We could hardly even see the man! I was sent to the hill to get him take his watch off. By the time I returned the crew went home. Well, I was a child still and I took everything easily. I was just glad to be with the actors. As soon as I got into the whirlpools of film making, in deep water, I fell among such mighty actors that I simply fainted. The greatest experience is to grow up among actors, to work with them. Just to call on them and they speaking to me!

And what did the great actors say to you?

I learnt to behave like a man. But at the beginning I was afraid of them... They were too great men. I will never forget how I hesitated in The sea is rising to call Tivadar Uray. In the fifties it was pretty difficult here. I went to the make-up room where he sat with the chief make-up artist, Uncle Gyuri. I say: " Comrade Uray...", Uncle Gyuri says: "Did you hear what Lajos said to you? You have not become a comrade, have you?!" I fainted. Lajos Básti, who played Kossuth, said I should call him Lala. Me... a nobody. With him, I formed a very good friendship later on, I also assisted Juli Básti becoming an actress. Later, in 1958, Frigyes Bán directed Saint Peter's Umbrella. We shot in Slovakia, Selmecbánya and their surroundings. Sándor Pécsi played the priest. After the shootings he would disappear for he was an antiquity collector. His apartment was like a museum. One day he appeared and carried something in his hands. He says: "My dear Lajos, if you go to Pest, would you take this for me?" I ask: "What is this?" "You know, this is a cannonball from the freedom fight." I put it in my sports-bag and on my way back home on the train I put it beside me on the seat. The customs officer came and he wanted to lift it lightly, but it weighed 6-8 kg! He asks: "Whose is this and what does it contain?" I say: "It's mine and it is a cannonball." He did not believe and took me to the customs guards. The commander heard something of Sándor Pécsi so I managed to talk myself out of the situation somehow. I have remembered this story about him ever since.

How were the actors handled then, was there such a thing as a cult of stars?

There was a kind of cult of stars, Socialist way. But they got near to you as well. Even the greatest. Kálmán Nádasdy showed much honour to them all the time, and as the chief director of the Opera House, he knew how to handle them. And this was very important for the Sea is rising was a grandiose piece indeed. At the same time I lived with János Görbe in Balatonalmádi. I had a different room, though, but of the same quality. I worked with János Görbe in Sándor Sára's A Stone thrown up for the last time. He was very ill already. He wanted to drink all the time, his spirit was kept up by this only. And for Lajos Balázsovits this was his first film. He was a very gifted young man. I remember him as the cheapest actor. He got two thousand forints in honorary fee and one hundred forints a day for keeping prepared. He had some forty days which meant that he pocketed six thousand forints. Altogether. We earned poorly as well. Yet I made it, for I was very enthusiastic and I was glad to be given the chance to work with Sándor Sára. It is very good to work with him. We made Tomorrow there will be pheasant and in '87 Thorn under the nail together.

How much did you get in the beginning?

Oh, oh... We worked for nothing.

Actors and actresses as well?

I can still remember that great actors could get six hundred forints a day if they were on per diem. I got 614 forints a month, but later on, for my good work, I had a raise to 914. After finishing The sea is rising I was given three thousand forints. It was a large sum then, but not too much considering the amount of work and time spent. We earned more than iron turners in a factory or a teacher, but we had to work hard for it. We were not overpaid at all.

Following the first great trio, whom else did you work with?

Oh, I worked with excellent directors. In Rákóczi's lieutenant by Frigyes Bán I was already an assistant unit manager. János Badal was the cameraman, he lives in France now. We worked with quite a big apparatus. Bitskey, Zenthe, Éva Vass played the main characters, Gábor Mádi Szabó was Bottyán Vak. In Károly Makk's film, Ward No 9 in 1955 I was the unit manager. We made many television films with Márton Keleti, it was fashionable to make several parts- television films and you could make good money as a unit manager. I worked in Zoltán Fábri's The Brute. Then there was a generations change, which I happily survived. Several great artists died one after the other, Frigyes Bán, Viktor Gertler, Keleti. Herskó went abroad which I regretted tremendously. Contemporary Hungarian film making suffered a great loss. We worked together in Hello Vera.

Did you have to get accustomed to directors? Did you have to adapt to them?

No, because I grew up together with the next generation. Bacsó, Makk, Huszárik, Robi Bán, Imre Mihályfi, Feri Kardos all belong to my generation. They came after the great generation of directors. I was an independent production manager in Bacsó's Summer on the hill in 1967 for the first time. Then central dramaturgy ceased to exist and studios were formed. Ottó Föld became Director of Economy, Bacsó lead a studio. He asked me to be his production manager, so I transformed into that from unit manager.

Were the others amazed by this?

I grew out of unit management by then. I worked a lot for I was much in demand.

What was your task as production manager? You read the script and announced how much the film will cost?

I don't know what way it is now, but then it was the director who brought the screenplay. He went to the directorate and asked for a production manager, but he was in the position to name a candidate. Then we sat down, read through the material and discussed which part will cost what. We looked for locations and a cameraman. Everything had to be included in the budget. When the director wanted to shoot at Hortobágy, the whole crew had to be moved, all the cars, trucks, accommodation reserved. Shooting in the country always costs a lot of money. Then we discussed actors as well, i.e. whom we should ask for the roles.

Did you always get all the money you asked for?

Usually. It was not a big deal to get money. Especially if the director was famous. Szindbád was Huszárik's first feature film. He made ingenious short films before. But he was trusted, too. Twelve and a half million forints back in 1970.

Was where and what the money was spent for checked?

Certainly, supervision was strict. You couldn't manipulate and retain money. Me as production manager was able to make... let's say with... A Stone thrown up some 15-20 thousand forints. Later on this increased up to 25 000.

Was this a monthly salary?

No, it was on a per film basis.

How long did you work on a film as production manager?

Making a film lasted for 5-6 month. I was among the first to work on it and among the last to finish. But films overlapped. While I still made the finishing touches on one of them, I prepared the other. My colleagues helped me a lot in this. I had wonderful colleagues.

Have you ever worked on two films simultaneously?

It happened that two films were made simultaneously like Sára's Thorn in the nail and Feri Téglássy's Never, nowhere, to nobody. They both shot at Hortobágy, Sára's film took place there, that of Téglássy in a hamlet school. They were five kilometres from each other. I commuted between them. I have always been fortunate, because I worked a lot and had no time to stop. I was on holiday twice in my life. Every Saturday production managers' meeting, where I once told the Head of Department: "Why, Comrade Bozó, now I have to leave, but I shall come back soon." I jumped into my car and drove to Yugoslavia for holidays. When I presented myself on Saturday two weeks from then, he rebuked me and said: "Is this what you call soon?!?"

How did you get a job as production manager?

I had my circle of friends established. People whom I liked and who liked me. Directors knew when I would be free again and I could go to them straight away.

Who were these people?

Sándor Sára made his first films with me, and I worked with Bacsó in eight different ones. I could work very well with Feri Kardos. He likes working, it is a pleasure to be with him. Zoltán Huszárik... He was a unique person. Félix Máriássy, Makk, Róbert Bán, Imre Mihályfi - they are all artists of the branch.

Do you need to have any special skills for directors? Do you have to distinguish between them?

They are all different. Imre Mihályfi is a sensitive person, you couldn't say a word to him, he had such a touchy soul. Károly Makk is an elegant gentleman, who insisted on having a good contact with everybody. Huszárik was a simple and wantless man, but his soul was beautiful. And he was a very, very demanding artist.

Could you suggest actors to the directors?

Certainly, of course, always. If they had no idea, we tossed up names. There was more than one candidate for a role, for actors were very busy then. Unfortunately they have plenty of time today and they are glad to get a job. Their main employer is television.

Being the production manager is quite an invisible job, isn't it?

Yes, the production manager is an underdog. No audience is ever interested in the person of the production manager. I had to work for the director and the cameraman all the time for they had to be served. There was no way out. Today, the name of the producer appears right after the director because he is the one who gives the money.

Have you ever played in a film?

I used to be an extra and I played a few minor roles. I played in Herskó's Hello Vera and Makk's Tale of the twelve scores. But I never had such desires. I was a serving personnel. This is a kind of obsession as well. I never wanted to direct, either. If a film failed, I felt pity for I knew that the director put all his heart and soul into it. Maybe he was or became more successful with another production manager or cameraman. I myself was depressed once or twice. I liked to work and regarded my job as a vocation, being on the surface in the film branch for quite a while.

Why did you get depressed, because the film failed?

No, the failure or success of a film is not the glory or failure of the production manager, so this never influenced my work. It is the director's job. I was very sorry, for example, that during the last five days of shooting Szindbád, I could not keep up a normal contact with Zoltán Latinovits. He was very much embittered for he was about to be fired from the theatre and he always had to find a scapegoat. I still have his letter in which he complained about me to director Ottó Földi. In addition to being a clever and intelligent man, he even wrote wonderfully. He put down his complaint in words of pearl. It is sad but I had to talk to him through an interpreter. We stood there face to face and he was not willing to talk to me. He was very much depressed. The film was too much for him, it lasted too long. He was a great star then and we could not pay much although we invented a lot of functions for him.

There is a photograph here about Lajos Õze from Time stands still.

I worked a lot with him. And I liked him, too. He was like that as well, burning the candle at both ends. As if he felt that there is not much time left for him. He was ill and very tired of theatre performances and film making. It was a great burden for him. I shot with him in Lívia Gyarmathy's A little me, a little you...for the last time. I went to see him in the hospital in the glazing heat and washed him. First I only began to cool his arms and asked: "Do you feel good?" "Oh, my Lajos, very good." Then I washed all his body with cold water for the nurses did not care. In two or three months he died.

Did Õze mean what he wrote on his visit card? "To my dear namesake forever, Lajos Gulyás cannot be present at my funeral, if it happens, he should laugh, laugh, laugh." Didn't you go?

No. I only wept at Huszárik's funeral. I was so close to these people, we grew up together in the branch... And now I watch old films which I all worked in on television and I constantly remember that I worked with this or that person back in 1910 or heaven knows how long ago. It is tragic how quickly your life passes while you work. You don't even notice it.

This picture says "Time and place of death: 14 November. First name and family name of the deceased: 3683, Zoltán Huszárik", how did this get to you?

When Huszárik died, he was subjected to autopsy in Üllõi street. Before that, however, we took a photographer and had pictures taken of Zoli. We had his death-masque made of plaster. I kept it for a while, then I gave it to Márta Jankovics, at the time when she made a Huszárik-exhibition in the Petõfi Museum for Literature. This is how a man's life comes to end. It turns into a registration number. Now my generation departs one after the other.

How was your relationship with the actresses?

I have always loved them. I worked with Mária Mezei, Mariann Krencsey, Ilona Petényi in 1960, in the Gertler film The case of the Noszthy boy with Mari Tóth. Later I could shoot with Manyi Kiss, Dajka, Törõcsik. Wonderful people!

Yet you never had an actress for your wife.

I never approached them in that way but I could do everything for them for I was aware of the tremendous energy a woman needs if she wants to do her job well. Mária Mezei once said to me after the shooting: "My dear Lajos, what is your favourite dish?" I said as a joke: "Pumpkin stew with minced meat." At a later time I got a call to go out to see them right away. Imagine, there was a huge plate of pumpkin stew with minced meat on the table. She made it. Unfortunately, this was our last meeting. She worked for quite a while after this, but we never worked together again.

Have you ever seen these stars acting badly, struggling with the part they had to play?

Never.

So they just went in and everything was O.K. straight away...

...that is right. No wonder that the films before the war were shot in 8-10-12 days. The film called Siamese cat was made in 1943. It was regarded as a great achievement then. It had been shot in 14 days. I have the budget of the film back home. I was an apprentice to unit manager László Gál and he gave it to me. The entire budget consists of four or five pages.

How come that they worked so quickly?

Because all the actors were professionals. It never happened to anybody that they came in and could not remember the words. Such a person would be replaced right away.

Yet there must have been a need for illumination.

Yes, but it was made more straightforward and not playing with art. Later on illumination became an art, but today it is no art either, you only need a professional cameraman. If someone begins to play art, he will not be bought for a lot of money can be thrown away through illumination.

Because of time?

Yes, and for the number of lamps he uses. Before, illumination cost a lot of money, because lamps and globes were mighty, but some twenty years ago they became downsized. They have the same candle-power today as the old giants used to have. Now one can put up a small lamp by oneself. You need one man for five lamps. You needed one man for each lamp before.

Where did you prefer to work, on location or in a studio?

It was the same to me as I enjoyed working. Film has been my life. I have been on holidays all my life. I was the type of production manager who was always present at shooting. My directors knew that and they demanded me to be by their side.

Why is this good for the director?

It means security. So I knew what he wanted all the time, what his next move would be, what he would like to do in the next hour or day.

Did you push them?

The devil knows. If you ensured actors, dresses, horses and crew, a director would push himself hard enough. If he has everything, he has to work. The three leading managers, director, cameraman and production manager, decide the atmosphere of the shooting. If the director is a sour, short-tempered man, he can spoil the mood of the crew. Formerly, in the fifties and sixties, "rezsizsitsung" was a widespread practice, i.e. we sat down after shooting and discussed the next day. I was bored to death for they would talk for hours. The entire crew sat there but the wardrobe-master was not interested in what the technician's duty was and the other way round. So I decided that I would abandon such things when I become a "great" man. I gathered the appropriate crew members when it was necessary, but only then, and we discussed their matters.

How could you create a good atmosphere in the studio?

First of all, I always tried to squeeze out the maximum wages for people. Depending on the era, political system, situation. I never made my colleagues stay longer than necessary. When the actor was needed by three o'clock in the afternoon, I did not call him in by noon. There is no need for him to sit there unnecessarily and waste his time.

Have you had your own crew?

Yes, for years and years. When I became a production manager back in '67, my unit manager colleague was Mrs. Szép, and when she left, there came Laci Kovács and Gyuri Szemere. After a while we knew each others' thoughts.

Have you ever refused a film?

Never. I was dismissed once, but before the start. In Ferenc András's Vulture, the cameraman said I would not be OK, for I kept on joking that I shall soon retire. But I still had some seven years to retirement! I undertook everything, I was not particular. I never provoked conflicts, I liked normal people. I have worked with Bacsó for eight years, and when he once said there would be someone else than Gulyás now, it felt like an old marriage.

Were you hurt by these incidents?

Sure I was, but I had something else to do right away. This is what this branch is like. "The king is dead, long live the king."

Did you get along well with all the directors?

Oh yes, I did, with all of them. After the Márton Keleti era, there came the Bacsó era and after that, the third generation: Gothár, Szomjas, Lívia Gyarmathy, Erdõss, Rózsa, Huszárik.

Have you worked with Jancsó?

Not with him exclusively, but when I had some time between two other films I went to help him in People are still asking. I took extras from the College of Physical Exercise to Veszprém to play the soldiers. It was a good job but I was only in for some one or two weeks.

Have you felt any difference between directors and styles?

Of course I have. It is interesting that I worked with Zoltán Fábry in only one film. He somehow represented a different genre. I did not insist on him because I liked lighter genres. Not because my directors made different films but because the atmosphere was different. I preferred to work with people who stood close to me in spirit. With Bacsó, we would shoot quite smoothly, although film making is a tremendous job for a director both physically and emotionally.

Have you paid any attention to cutting?

Not directly, I only watched the time. To mix a film takes 4-5 days, but Time stands still for example has been mixed in 15 days. Ten extra days cost a lot.

How much could you interfere with the artistic part?

I was able to give advise but I could not interfere. There was no such a thing as a producer-centred approach. It did not give the money. I only served the film. Of art, the director had to talk to the studio manager.

Have you ever worked with a female director?

We made two films with Lívia Gyarmathy right one after the other. It was Koportos and A little me, a little you.... She is a strong, goal-oriented personality. She always knew what she had wanted. She is a good professional, she makes her films following the script.

Have you worked with students?

Not with a director but I worked with student-actors. I helped many of them - I can't even recall their names. I recommended that they play in film.

There is so much that depends on the production manager in an actor's life.

On friendly relations, rather.

Which method did you find more useful, when someone graduated from the college of film or when someone passed all the stages without a school?

Both together. Let him be educated at the school but he should go and work in films, get acquainted with the branch. Those whom I grew up with, like Huszárik or Pali Zolnay, they always came to shoot as students as well. Then they returned to pass the exams. So they studied and earned some money at the same time.

Which of your films was the most difficult?

Oh, oh... maybe it is still the first one, The sea is rising. We worked for six month, using an enormous apparatus. When we went up the Bükk Mountains to shoot, the dresses, canons and properties were carried by sixteen lorries. It was a mighty film.

After reading a screenplay, can you tell how much the film would cost?

Formerly it was easy, I could tell it within minutes. Today, however, prices are new. If I was informed about new prices and the director told me what his needs were (actors, location, costumes), I would be able to calculate. This is like cycling, you can't really forget.

Would you accept an assignment if funds available did not cover the entire budget?

Only if I had the opportunity to discuss matters with the director and tell him, say, not to plan shooting for fifty days but merely thirty. If one is short of money, the screenplay has to be shortened. In the heyday of film making we shot a film in 24-25-26 days, then a new generation came who were biding their time. They would leave for fifty days. It is also better for the actors to get their per diem for 30 days instead of 15. If the film costs, say, 35 millions, it can be made in 36 days - provided you spend a hundred thousand a day. But you can't make it in fifty days! I was very fortunate for whenever the directors I worked with had some special request, there was always a normal, down-to-earth cameraman with them. Or the other way round, when the director could say "relax, it won't work like this, let's find out something else". They both were comfortably complemented by my suggestions as a production manager.

Have you shot much abroad?

I wouldn't say so. We were able to travel abroad from the beginning of the seventies. I have worked in Czechoslovakia, Italy, England and Yugoslavia. I was not a globe-trotter, much rather I made beautiful and gentle Hungarian films back home.

We are constantly told that in the heyday of film making there was some kind of beauty, incomparable to what there is today.

It was the most ideal world for directors. They worked in a lot more relaxed, untroubled way. If they brought in a good screenplay, it was accepted as a matter of course and they were given money to realise it.

So how did the system work then?

There was a central dramaturgy, which consisted of Bacsó, Péter Szász and Péter Halász in 1952 when I was a newcomer. Screenplays were submitted to them, or the other way round, there was a central script and someone was commissioned to realise it. Then there were films instructed to be made by the Party, these also had to be made. I was a very insignificant man then, however.

Is it painful for you to think of Hungarian film making ?

It is, indeed. You would have believed that there would be a lot more money available and that something would change. Film making went simply bankrupt instead. The majority of the best specialists quit, those who still stick to the branch are the ones who still do it.

Yet you can still see films at film-reviews.

But what kind of films? Four feature films and seventy documentaries. I wouldn't say that they are made by fallacious young talents... Yet this is a little hard for me, you know, for this is not what I grew up with.

What was it like to retire?

I did not really feel that I had retired for I kept on working for a while. I have begun to feel it recently, now that I don't work so much any longer. You can't stop all of a sudden, somehow the branch envenoms you. I still worked in 1993 as an assistant in István Dárday's East to west. I could see what I said before, i.e. how ideal it was for directors when film-making was subsidised by the government. Their only task was to care for the film. Today the director has to be a fund-raiser as well. Financial problems turn his attention away from artistic work which you have to pay a price for.

Do you keep an eye on the fate of Hungarian films?

Yes, I am interested in their situation and I keep my fingers crossed for every new film, and especially for youth. Also my daughter works in the branch, she became a costume-designer. Before, we used to worked together.

Have directors accepted that you retired?

I am not called for as there are many candidates for the little work available. There are a lot of young unit managers and production managers who need employment and who have their own directors. But if I had to start over again, I would do the same thing. I would start by being a producer if I were young, but as an old man, no. I am not complaining for I don't have to count every penny. Thanks God, I cannot walk along the street without meeting someone whom I greet with pleasure. I watch a lot of films on television. I continue to remember these occasions. The actors, locations, roles, directors, all over again. They bring my youth back, which is a nice thing.

[Gulyas Lajos in 1991]
Gulyás Lajos, pensioner

Balatonkenese, September 1991.
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Whom do you keep contact with?

My former colleagues in the film factory. We meet with old-timer film-makers on the second Thursday of each month. The circle includes the factory management, MOKÉP, FÖMÓ, Hungarofilm, Hungarian Film Institute. Some 20-25 people gather. We talk, play nostalgia. It is good to meet old colleagues. Then there is a team of make-up artists whom I meet regularly. I keep contact with them and fortunately there are many people who visit me in my Sashalom home.

Do you talk about films on these occasions?

Well, yes, we fool around, everybody tells a story form old times. We laugh a lot. I can tell you frankly, we all yearn for film. Not so much for working - I am 69, you know -, but we would like to know what is happening in the inner circles of film making. It is difficult and painful to accept that which happens today. I can only recommend to those preparing to retire: don't do it! Let them work as long as they can for you live only as long as you work.

Post script:

Presently, I am working with production manager Barna Kabay in Bence Gyöngyössy's first film. But this is a different world. This is a world of money first of all, art comes after.

End

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