A few years ago a Hungarian – I’m not telling you which – television company stopped by at Primanima. So they came – perhaps straight from the royal court – they came, they saw nothing, but they started asking questions right away, I mean they tried to make an interview, their very first question being “Why do you show so many films on the subject of gender at the festival?”

We could have stopped the interview at this point, thanking them for their deep interest; we nonetheless tried to provide a helpful answer, which went something like this: “Young directors across the globe are interested in various issues. Sometimes they are concerned about the environment, other times they worry for their families. Some care about the past, and some don’t. But most of all, they think about their own present and future, being a university student, ambition versus making a living, the extent of their opportunities for creating original films in this unpredictable and populist world. Is it even worth it to make films? And if it is, for whom? Where? In Hungary or abroad? Alone or at a studio?

Their struggling thoughts are reflected in some original animated films produced with various backgrounds and sources of support. Young directors can be melancholic or enthusiastic, bored or happy. Just like anyone else. Naturally, this means that sometimes they also might feel the need to address the matter of their own (sexual) identity, and their most sincere reaction to this might be to make a film about it. Primanima is there to present the current stories and narratives of young directors to its audience.”

So that is how we answered more or less, which was followed by the next question: “I see. But why do you have to show these to the people?”

We had to put an end to the interview to avoid having to repeat our answer given to the first question, and thereby locking ourselves in an infinite loop.

But let’s now add two more dots after the period at the end of that sentence and turn it into an ellipsis; let the interviewer of our story have some more material for their segment to fill their timeslot. They have the talent to make up whatever detail is missing anyway.

So here comes the imaginary ending of the interview that was cut short:

“Actually, we really don’t get what makes these young people behave this way! Especially Hungarian ones! Or at least those who are still here, and haven’t fled the country. All this drama is completely baffling, when they have a supernova-bright future laid out for them, with all the rocky pieces of the set cleverly polished to glamour – all that effort to save them from depression. Just look at all the great things that happened to them in recent years. They had the pandemic, allowing them to work in peace and quiet at home. And the universities were seized too – pardon me for using the wording of some fake news site –, I mean they were rebuilt on the foundations of a sustainable future, which also solved the students’ problem of having to cheap flights to participate in Erasmus programmes, and created the opportunity to enter military courses in Hungary. After all, we can’t all be artists, let’s be realistic, that is the central directive. And then the rest, who still refuse to exchange their pencils for rifles, resisting all these benevolent intentions trying to turn them away from a career in animation, could be given the opportunity to shoot pathetic films with immense financial support about the unshakeable heroes of Hungarian history. They could work in their “field”, and even bring some money home – for rent – and the result would be just perfect for dumbing down the public, an effect carefully supervised from above.”

“But despite all this, they only care about their crazy obsessions. They keep doodling in their ivory towers, painting, and making films to be controlled… There is no actual need to take them seriously, although it might be a concern that they can do all that even without state grants if it comes to that. Because animation is like that. Unfortunately, its techniques are overly democratic: you might have to struggle to get it done, it might take years to make an original short, especially if the director does it all by him/her/itself, but it can be done. And that is the only real problem, because you can’t send a black car to make them disappear anymore, and anyway, they tend to take off on their own nowadays – to Cannes, Annecy, Sarajevo and Venice, often to receive awards. Then let them stay there! If they return, I bet they wouldn’t shut up about the grand budgets allocated for purple-hazed musings there. We better keep such facts hidden from the people. They would only stir public waters. Oh, how I wish there were a couple of loyal, watchful eyes in every building still, like in the good old days! We wouldn’t have all this mess then.”

And that concludes our interview, all the characters of which are of course fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.

Let’s stay on point. There’s this festival. Primanima. It doesn’t benefit anyone, just acts important, pretending that art has value to it. When we all know it doesn’t – animation is total mumbo-jumbo. For this reason, I would like to dissuade everyone from disturbing their own bliss grown in our holy, fertile lands by watching so-called contemporary Hungarian and foreign animation.

Tamás Patrovits, 2023

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