How would you describe your experience of the change of the regime and the rupture following it, regarding the animation industry?

It might be easy to imagine how a religious Swabian family from the province, like ours, has lived during the decades of state socialism. There was always the desire, but only sometimes the hope that one day we might be part of a free world. Later, in the mid 80’s, during glasnost and perestroika, something started to change. That was also the moment when I started working in Kecskemét, at the Pannónia Studio, and there I became profoundly interested in public life and social processes. Even if it might sound incredible, in 1986 it was possible to make ‘The Dictator’, a film that was openly against the system; it was part of the series ‘Door’. This film presents the pathway of a dictator that ascends some stairs covered with a red carpet: his way from concentration of the power, through militarization, cult of personality, to his catafalque. Ferenc Mikulás, who was leading the studio back in the day, was very brave when he assumed the making of this film, and he assigned the task to me. I have never found out if this decision of his was influenced by my interest in public life – I was almost a teenager –, by my stubborn rebellion, or maybe by the fact that as a young artist at the beginning of my career I had nothing to lose. Anyway, this decision has defined the pathway that I was following with my animations until the late 90’s, because I managed to make animations with a critical attitude, such as ‘Eastern Greetings’.

In ‘89, the change that we were longing for, finally came. This made the lives of individuals better and brought freedom to them, but for us who were working in the field of animation it made things a little harder. The financial conditions were completely transformed, as state funding was almost entirely revoked. I was trying to find new pathways. To carry on with the making of satirical motion pictures that use delicate hints, image metaphors, allegories and comparisons wouldn’t have been worth it, even if there had been funding. But there wasn’t really any. The very few films that were made after the establishment of the Hungarian Motion Picture Foundation were mostly accomplished thanks to the support from foundations, obtained through project proposals. Paradoxically, the versatile animation community that produced plenty of films before 89, started to decrease and to disintegrate. Many ideas and plans had to remain in the drawers, while their creators turned to better paid assignments. Despite these problems, it was obviously exciting to observe how the shift to capitalism was followed by initiatives of many artists that left Pannónia and tried independent strategies. The change of the regime brought me as well to a turning point. Partly because of the new opportunities offered by Kecskemétfilm, partly thanks to the residence in France, I stopped making shorts and got more into children’s series.

In the 90’s, you were working for Folimage in France, while in Hungary you wrote and directed the second season of ‘Leo and Fred’. How would you define the difference between French and Hungarian series production?

While I was in France, here in Hungary the funding for animations and especially for series was reduced substantially. There were only a few projects of shorts that obtained funding, hardly any series or longer animations were made. At the beginning of my time abroad, I wasn’t working on series. The idea of the project about European unity with the title ‘Une seule et belle Europe’ was born before 89, but, after the historical changes, it was finally carried out in 1991 by four young artists from Western Europe and four from Eastern Europe – I was among them. It was after this film that I decided to stay abroad and got involved in the making of series. I realized instantly that there, unlike in Hungary, money seemed to overwhelm the film and series industry from different sources. One series was made after another, they were all brand new. I was working as a character designer, this was also something new, because at home we used another method, animation by scenes. At Folimage, the processes were organized like workshops. The leader of the studio, Jacques-Rémy Girerd, and the director-in-chief held a meeting each morning to discuss the tasks of the day. Folimage did not work with freelancers or with people working from home. Everyone had to be there, because the different teams were in continuous communication and interaction, and this enabled a vivid, exciting transformation of the plans throughout the entire process. This was more or less the opposite of my previous experience in Hungary, where we were sticking to the plans, once they had been approved, in the original form. Meanwhile, the production of series in Hungary had to face serious funding issues, as I already mentioned. Before ‘89, the Hungarian Television ordered the series, but afterwards we needed to find other financial sources. The second season of ‘Leo and Fred’ is a good example. I was assigned to do it because I still had excellent relations with the colleagues from Kecskemét. The first season, directed by Pál Tóth, was still funded by the Television, the second one, in ‘93, by a German co-producer. Although, these partners expected to see the final product as soon as possible. So we couldn’t even consider a slower pace as an opportunity, even if that was the key to balanced production in the first season. The first season was made in three years, for the second one we only had one year and a few months. We accomplished it only with serious sacrifices, even if we seemed to handle it all. It was a real race with time, and because of this we had to make bad compromises. Many people think that these did not affect the quality, but for me as a director they were extremely upsetting.

Things have changed since then. It was very hard to find new pathways during the transition period, but we gained a lot of experience and, besides the better preparation of artists, the technical background has also changed. Through these, we could create an infrastructure that meant a reliable base. After all, in the production of series and longer animations the Hungarian artists and among them Kecskemétfilm became indispensable.

Zoltán Varga speaks about you as “the most important representative from Kecskemét of Hungarian caricature animation”. Besides directing, you are a caricature artist. How does this way of perception contribute to your directing?

Yes, in addition to the animation, I frequently make caricatures for different mediums. Caricature is a sharp, cheeky genre that cannot always be transferred to the language of animation. Its primary function is not to irradiate beauty and harmony. On the contrary: it focuses on misfits and errors to make these visible. Of course, this way of perception contributed a lot to the accomplishment of shorts before the change of the regime, but I am not sure if similar films could also work in the new social establishment. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that in a constitutional democracy there is nothing to make fun of – because there are plenty of things! Just that now there are thousands of ways where you can pronounce your critical opinions openly or point out the defects of the system, you have many things besides the motion picture that communicates the critical message in an abstract way. ‘Leo and Fred’ was something rather light, compared with my old shorts. Yet I could make use of the strategies learned in caricature, even if in a different way. Here, I had to exaggerate, sharpen some features of the main characters or specific situations, and this made the stories comical. Then they ended with some punch line or point. In the episodes 'The Timid Strongman' or 'Leonard the 1^st' the points were based on the caricature of the characters’ features. In the first one, there is a parody of the lack of courage, in the second one, of the longing for dominance. Both lead to funny situations. The episodes 'Flea-bite' or 'Epidemy' are based on the amplification of certain situations, such as itching or the spreading disease. If these characteristic situations are well grounded, the points and the funny events come by themselves.

Currently, you are working on the series ‘Proverbs’, in which each episode only lasts a minute and a half. Many of your other works are also very short. What is the key to a good extra short film?

Even if I have made several shorts, I can say it without mock modesty: I still need to learn a lot until I can say that I’ve got the key. I suppose that for a good short an intense, stunning, unexpected and original point is indispensable. An exact timing, as well as professional design are definitely important. And, of course, simplicity. I think that the shorts by Konstantin Bronzit or the episodes of the series ‘Log Jam’ are quite close to perfection. If an extra short film is not only watched and forgotten, but produces a lasting echo in someone, I think it must be a good one. The imagistic universe, sound and rhythm of such films get imprinted in our memory.

My shorts are more or less caricatures, there’s nothing I could do about it. The only difference is that they don’t take place in a single moment, but in an extended time and space. Besides this, they are based on a point, a punchline, such as caricatures. Another feature is that in the characters of the animation we can recognise the stylistic marks of caricature that carry the chance of popularity. I do not realize if one or another episode is well-accomplished when I watch the final version, but at the public shows.

If you made new episodes of ‘Door’ today, what would it be about?

Thinking of the particularities of ‘Door1’ (‘The Dictator’), I feel some kind of provocation in this question. I guess today I wouldn’t make such a straightforward film, but I consider that the symbolism of open and closed doors is an excellent means to express some issues that indeed can be very up-to-date. Locked doors can represent solitude, fear, denial of getting to know the world beyond our comfort zone; doors that are open towards each other can suggest trust, access to another dimension or tolerance. It might be interesting when do we open up and towards whom, and also when do we close down and from whom. Here I would dwell on the causes. Another topic: How long can we live behind locked doors and what kind of dangers do we face when staying completely open? Are doors necessary at all, or do we even need the walls that hold them? Then, there is the question of mutuality: If we open doors towards others, will this gesture be reciprocated and will it open other doors towards us? And will locked doors be “rewarded” by other doors closing somewhere else? This latter issue can be regarded from the perspective of religion, for instance. So I think these questions could be filled with interesting stories. I would be glad to experiment with these at some point.

What makes up a good children’s film?

Recently, I have seen quite a lot of children’s films that gave me the impression that they are not made for children at all, but for adults – or even worse, for the professional audience from artistic circles. Of course, these still can be good, very good or even excellent works. A good children’s film is one that engages, involves and entertains its audience, makes them laugh and – as a bonus – educates them. This is why it is extremely hard to make a really good film for children. If any genre, this one must really serve the viewers. To accomplish this, the creators themselves need to become and remain children to some extent, and then, with a little professional routine, they will be able to face this task.