An Interview with Péter Tímár, 11 March, 1997
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By 24 March, Dollybirds
was seen by three hundred thousand people. In the middle of March,
it was screened in five Budapest movie theatres simultaneously,
for the full length of programme time, to capacity crowds.
Does it feel like splashing in a sea of joy, in an unclouded heaven? Well, the film met with unexpected success, that is for sure. Yet my feelings are mixed. People keep asking me if I am already working on my next film, that I have green light. Yet nothing happens, nobody has come to me with anything like an offer. I shall have to stand in the queue and beg for money just like I had to before. Are you suggesting that the audience appreciates you and loves you, while the profession keeps making you handicapped? You can take it like that. This success is as if it would make my colleagues see red. Those with whom I have been friends say it is good, but there is silence in the ranks of the profession. What do you thing is the reason for this overwhelming success? The film does not really deserve this amazing success. I thing the reason is an advantageous constellation of things: here is a relatively watchable Hungarian film, an there has been a frantic desire after watchable Hungarian films, plus a hysterical longing to laugh, and this tense excitement as if selected this film for itself. What I mean by watchable is that it is entertaining, it does not keep bombarding the audience with social evils and the depths of philosophy, yet it has as much social message infused in it as the audience need. Have you never discussed this question with professionals who are searching for an answer to this? I have been talking to László Kéri, but he could not find an explanation to this intense interest, either. The explanation I would prefer is, of course, that this is a good film... Because I am full of criticism, there are loads of things I do not like in it, which I would wish to amend, to replace, but that is another question. Everybody seems to expect me to be to surprised, too, so that then they could say " you see, you don't understand it, either". Yesterday I met with András Réz, he likes the film, too, but neither can he give an explanation. I think there is much confusion among intellectuals, too, things have disintegrated so much. After some time one will probably be able to talk about it, when perhaps one will have a clearer understanding of the social transformation we are witnessing today. Do you know of any audience surveys? No, as far as I know nobody has conducted anything like that... Myself! When I meet the audience after screenings. And it is fantastic, because I really see that the audience are amazed at themselves, that they like this. What is more: it seems as if that had enjoyed that they let themselves be led by the nose. People are applauding at the end as if they applauded themselves. Would you like to tell us how you eventually got to direct a film, after six years of silence? After "A Bit of Healthy Eroticism" you directed one film almost each year, "Movie Clip" was followed by "Before the Bat Stops Flying", then "Leave Robinson Alone!"then Make it silly... Then, during the spring of '91 you stood up at the Association of Film Artists, arguing that the business of film-makers is perhaps not the contemplation of whether there is a social network or not beneath them but how to renew the structure, the efficiency, the social credibility of film-making. You said the elevator was going to break off, because there were too many us, and it was only filming as such which the bulk of film-makers were uninterested in... Did you write and submit screen-plays after this, too? Of course, eight ones all together, of which three were comedies. I attempted to work on the ruins of Studio Dialogue with Ferenc András, then with MTM Communications, then with a studio owned commonly with Felícia Flóra Kovács, called Argus Film, and at the end of '96 I received one and a half millions from the board of the Mozgókép Foundation for a documentary. That money financed Shelter Show, but we ran short of funds, and Argus Film had to get financially involved. And it was then, at the spring of '96 that János Rózsa János, the producer of Studio Objective gave me a ring and asked me to read a short storey written for film... You know that previously the studio used to purchase short stories written for film and published them in a single volume. That is where Bambi with a Straw was published, written by Gyula Márton, and which Rózsa made me read. First they wanted the film to be directed by Sándor Sõth, but Sõth went abroad and did not respond, etc., and then János Rózsa, on the advice of the dramaturg Andrea Vészits, gave me a ring. Was this all that was needed and then everything just changed overnight and started to go like a clockwork? Oh, no! When I got through the short storey, my imagination went off and suddenly I realised that I have a lot to say about the 60s myself. But studio had entered into a very bad contract, it bought the short storey at such hard terms that it virtually excluded any interference of the director with the screen-play of the writer. That made Rózsa have Gyula Márton write the screen-play. There were no dialogues in the short storey, they had to be made up. Eventually, it turned out to be much like Gazdag's Bastion Alley 77, a lot of calling people comrades, etc. Well, I did not like it, I wrote another screen-play, but then Gyula Marton did not like it. He insisted on his own. Then I said that was something I could not do and said good-bye to them. That happened last year in May or in June. It was already summer, and the storey takes place in summer. János Rózsa then gave it a second thought, and then made up his mind; he asked me to do mine! He realised that I would not only risk myself, what was at stake was bankrupting the studio if the film did not turn out a success... Gyula Márton is now suing the studio. I think this was a lesson for all producers, and this was the last contract of its kind in Hungary. Studio Objective had 5 millions from telefilm for the film, nothing more. And here it starts getting a bit mystic, that Rózsa still dared to go ahead, because we might well have had to stop after the first four days. But everybody in this crew had been terribly nice people! Nobody asked for their wages, we continued to work while none of us knew whether we would be paid for this at all. Against the odds that in a number of films before this method had failed, and a lot of people had been bluffed with it. But the Gods supported us! Although... in September, when the shooting got finally underway, the weather suddenly changed for the worse, it was minus two centigrade, and I lost heart, and I thought that was it, I cannot shoot summer. (I felt really offended by the Gods then).Due to bad weather, we could not shoot the bathing scene, for example: At the "Bathing Forbidden" sign we would have had a bathing suit show, i.e. a great party by the lake. And in the meantime, everybody were running about to search for sponsors. Some would have been willing to give funds, but had a specific preference for the female protagonist. Natália Nagy was kept in suspense for two weeks. Then, fortunately, that specific preference declined the offer. But, of course, no money came from them, either. How this so-called "searching for sponsors" work, by the way? Like I have just described. I have made several attempts myself. One can hear the names Pepsi Cola and Coca Cola at least five times in the film, for example. But multinational companies are truly fed up with fund-raisers, they have been tapped so many times. Then they receive the viewership surveys, and it turns out that they have donated money for a viewership of 6-7 thousand people. By now they simply refuse to give. I would not give, either, if I were them. But we were given one and a half million by IBUSZ, and they also sent a person to the shooting who took notes about whether we observed the terms of the contract. I was nervous all through and kept my fingers crossed. Now I was called by the general manager who thanked me for the possibility to get involved and he offered funds for my next film unseen. That happens, too! And think of it, without the IBUSZ-money, I could not have paid the one hundred and twenty crowd artists of the "What is Your Skill" scene and they would have attacked me. Those are people who are in need of money, and they do not care when I receive my wages or receive any at all. So it was a nightmare until we realised that we had the money. Where did the shootings take place? In the Orczy-garden, then at the housing estate by the Ganz Mávag factory and it the premises of the factory, and the "What is Your Skill" contest was shot at the Csokonai Cultural House. You said that what touched you in the short storey was the 60s. The 60s have a special attraction both in Hungarian film and for a certain section of Hungarian society, as is proved by Time Stands Still, or The Golden Generation. But the sixties to you mean something else than they mean to Gothár or Ferenc András... By no means! Time Stands Still is a masterpiece! My leit-motif was the time when I was a teen-ager, the way I saw the world as a ten or eleven year old boy and the way I saw my elder sisters who then were of the same age as the girls of the film, they used to be dolly birds, too. What I evoked was their gestures, their taste for dresses, their hairstyles... Of politics I only wanted to have as much in it as could be sensed by a young teen-age boy, i.e. that everything is not what it seems, that something is out of joint. At the end of the film, Ádám Vári looks at, understands, smiles at and recognises something; i.e. Uncle Simon rolling Mister Bajkon. This rolling means power, paternalizing but also making approaches, at the same time....
And intimacy, too... While it is the cream of a joke, too...
Yes. Very often we saw an extra meaning surface, something we did not plan originally. For example in the end, when Gálvölgyi sits down on the stairs, saying that "well, we have got this off", and then says "Soon it is your turn". That is, that soon it is Attila's turn to perform, but this is also an allusion to the next generation and the future, and I only realised during cutting that the way it was said turned it into something more. How did you select the actors? For me, finding new faces is a priority. With this film, however, I did not have much time for searching. We had Gálvölgyi from the outset, and I sensed that he directs himself, but that others did not use him. He deserves all praise, because he took everything with humbleness and a creative attitude. He is some actor! Then I arranged a two-day monstre selection, a probation shooting at the Academy, at the entire grades three and four, and then at Mari Gór Nagy. With the boys, it was mainly their "shape" which decided, but the girls are very good and very gifted.
And the roles? Both Mister Bajkon and Bertalan feature in the short story. This direct choice of a name, I think, is most unlucky, and its only reason is the fact that the person wishes to be an astronomer. The man with the suit-case, however, is my creation, I found him in Érdekes Újság Almanach, and in the 30s there really lived a Kúnó Purábl, a high-ranking civil servant. I thought of Iván Darvas, he could have created this somewhat bitter, pre-war character of a nobleman, member of the secret resistance movement, who comes up with the stupid joke of showing a "finger" to women, and enjoys being misunderstood. Darvas, however, declined. Of course, Andorai is not bad, either. In the short storey, Uncle Simon is a rougher, more one-sided character, he is a janitor and nothing more. He should have been brought together in an intimate relationship with another secret police to show that these might have loved each other, too. What is later revealed about the piece of memory is that it was not merely an intimate situation, but that amidst the blackness, black marketers had been chased etc. Then comes the row, getting nabbed, which is still easy to resolve. This is how I got Kati Lázár to play Ernestin. And the scene at the fountain is an allusion to the fountain scene of Dolce Vita. But Gyula Márton however, would have cast Lajos Kovács for the role of Uncle Simon. While those who are by many taken to be transvestites are just boys who want to get out to Helsinki and hope for better chances if they are flirtatious girls. It was this simple. The character of the female tram conductor was inspired by a photograph from the end of the 50s. Her figure is still on my mind: she stands in the middle of the compartment, dressed in the same way, with the same self-offering, asking gestures and posture. I had the whole view included in the film as it was. Yet the shooting was a terrible racing with time. We could only shoot for a single night, from half past twelve to half past four, while there is no traffic, here in Queen Elisabeth Street, and the tram was slowly going to and fro along the entire track. The last scene was shot with the first public tram in our back, with passengers getting on. I knew that if I could not finish it, I would never had a second chance. The whole film is very realistic all through, while it is totally unrealistic. This is how it all turns out absurd, i.e. both what happened and what our relationship to that is. How did you achieve this effect? You hear no noises in the film, apart from the rattling of chains. You cannot hear the sound of foot-steps. I wanted to avoid Little Realism, naturalistic noises, I did not want the audience to be lost in history. I wanted to go as far as credibility, that is all. Flash-ins and light cuttings create a "could have been" effect. Young people today no longer go to see a film with a fully traditional narration an visual methods. In the media world where toady's' teen-agers live they are able to take in not twenty-four but fifty images a second. Seen from such a perspective, this year's film review featured a terribly old-fashioned moving picture. Cutting inside the camera is a form of conveying meaning was something we decided on at the very beginning with the cameraman, Péter Szatmári. And I did fear it, because that method requires an awful lot of raw ,material, because the "moving cutting pictures" which flash up orange-purple coloured were shot separately, at the end of the shootings. I think it was on a video-clip that I had seen something similar. Who knows where one's ideas really come from, which seem to spring up unexpectedly in one's mind. What I wanted to portray in vision was that in history the really important is not facts but what one imagines to see their, i.e. sublimation. Authenticity is subject to form. It was like blind flying a bit, because I did not know whether it was going to fall to place as a whole on the cutting table. But as soon as I started working on it, I realised that the pillars were there, from which one can always jump to the next scene, and the audience does not even notice how the get from one situation to the next. And there is something else here that has not been noticed by anybody yet, and therefore I believe that is a failure. At each such chapter-separating flash-in, one hears the sound of a pin being shoved off the record on a gramophone player. This is because at the beginning, when uncle Simon is talking in the microphone while shaving, and when the boy hits the microphone with a stone from his toy-catapult, uncle Simon cuts himself, hisses, quickly puts the pin on the record, and is swearing it out. That is, he does not turn the microphone off, but put on some music, and when he finished swearing, takes the pin off again and continues his announcement. I felt that this was as multi-layered as the so-called rolling. The way uncle Simon rations it out to us what we should hear, the way he plays and manipulates is trivial and frightening at the same time.... He is like a cosmic disc jockey who animates with his music. Regrettably this is a point which is missed by the audience, something they take for mere acoustic playing. Some of the means of expression fall into the same category. Beside the humour conveyed by the word "bloc" which has a number of different meanings, there are rather dry jokes as well as the trivial "burned fingers" as a direct source of laughter in the film. Is it because you were trying to satisfy different needs in the audience or is this swinging between intellectual humour and stupid joking intentional? If someone in the old days was told that he might get his fingers burned, that meant that he really may. People could get the sack at universities, entire careers could be broken off, etc. Yet even those who were the victims of this may laugh at it today. Nobody is told any longer that he may get his fingers burned, yet one may have to pay thousandfoldly higher prizes if one says the wrong thing just once.....In this direct and literal implementation, there is an element of easy resolution, too. By the way, there are many who blame me, and fly into a passion about it, that the beginning of the 60s was far from what I portray it have been, that prisons were still full at that time, that people continued to be executed.... I do not recommend this film to them. They shall never be able to surpass themselves.
Everything has not been said about the technique of the film yet... Before the Bat Stops Flying apart, I was experimenting with some kind of a new technical solution in all my films. I tried the effect of motion screened backwards in my film made at Studio BB for the first time. This was a film that I loved a lot and would love to see again. In fact that was what I employed in A Bit of Healthy Eroticism all through. There is backwards motion in Dolly Birds, too, but the main tool here is delay. Like when Teréz meets the man with the suitcase in the cafeteria, the entire scene is floating with the pleasure of meeting one's goal, and this could be achieved by delay. In addition, two different methods have been used in the narrative scenes. The dialogue was first recorded on tape, without a camera. The actors formed a circle and read out their parts, which was recorded on a tape. I directed this all through, and I had to be very focused. Then we rewind the sound tape to the start sign, and the actors had to say their part in the scene without a sound. That is, on the film they are all talking from playback all through. And as we slowed down the pace of the tape, they also had to move slowly. (We made a werk-film about this, which is another burlesque.) The emotional scenes, on the other hand, were shot with the actors saying their parts considerably quicker than the normal pace of speech, as quick that it was verging on the impossibility to be pronounced. Safranek , e.g., could not manage this, so with she we had to return to a normal tempo. Only the music is synchronic in the film. As soon as a song is over, fragmented motion and asynchronic speech starts. This method had a fantastic effect on the actors. Actors grow if they are given a task they have never been given before. If they have to act with the whole of their personality. That is what happened with A Bit of Healthy Eroticism, too.... The above technical tricks have made the film pantomime-like, these are responsible for the absurd effect. This is intensified by make-up. But there is another explanation for that, too, namely that in lack of funds, we had to divert attention from the background. Faces and figures had to be real eye-catchers in order to divert attention from civilians fishing at the lake, because we could not pay the rent for the whole lake. But I cannot tell make-up artists not to make the characters absurd, because that is unintelligible to them. A make-up artists starts working then asks me whether I like it or not, and the director tells him to put some more rouge there, to accentuate that a bit more, etc. And that is when vision and form unite. How much of all this comes across to the audience? Does "absurd" or "unrealistically realistic" mean anything to the audience? I think that inside, people have ended the chapters of the last decades. But this has not been reinforced to them by anybody. Dolly Birds is the first to do this. The element of the absurd helps them get over the reservations of their conscious, i.e. that they had not rejected the whole thing. The world portrayed in the film is near at hand and far away, appeasing and rejecting at the same time, i.e. catches all the contradictions which have accumulated in people about this past epoch. Yet in the film, they can watch all this without guilty feelings, and they can laugh at it. Thank you. |
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