Your second movie, 'Magic Hunter' debuted at the Venice Film Festival in 1994. As a young director, did you consider it as a big thing?

As László Neme' second movie debuts now in Venice, so was the case for me back then. It really was a big thing for me, not to mention that the Venice festival was very strong at that time–I'm glad that, considering the ups and downs of festivals, in recent years Venice's importance and prestige have increased again. In 1994, the Venice Film Festival was definitely the second most important one, closely following Cannes. The journey of the 'Magic Hunter' was quite adventurous: it was bought by a too big American distributor which could not really handle a European author's movie and asked too much money for screenings from festivals. We are still struggling to publish it on DVD in order to reach out to people.

Another important Venice memory for me was to attend the festival with my whole family as a new mother. My daughter was born after my first movie, 'My 20th Century', and this has filled my life for two years. During the postproduction of the 'Magic Hunter' I was pregnant with my son—he was somehow the reason I was able to keep up pace. We did it together.

It is interesting to think of the Lido back then and compare it to the Lido where I was a jury member last year. At that time, the Venice that Thomas Mann wrote about was much more present: the strong city's worn but proud greatness was there in that hotel which served as one of the centres of the festival, and the spaces that were packed with film-makers were suffused with melancholy. Nowadays, the centre is already bright, shiny and a bit too stylish, too hard, and too loud. The soft and damaged elegance was incredibly attractive and interesting at that time.

'My 20th Century'

Did you feel then that you could even win the Golden Lion?

I was so nervous, and I have to say I was disappointed that we did not win, especially because there are always rumours circling around: rumour had it we almost won... I know, however, that the movie had a powerful effect. It is hard to finish such a great job; it is rare that a wrap can be really good. In this case, you ask yourself the question: which of my decisions could have caused the movie to be less powerful than the screenplay, which even got to the Sundance and was chosen as the best European screenplay?

After this, I was at the Venice Film Festival twice. 'Tamas and Juli' was made as part of a series: in 1998, eight directors from all parts of the world were asked to make a movie about the year 2000. I was so proud of the Hungarian Filmlab: we were filming on 16 mm film, however, watching it on the big silver screen in Venice, nobody believed that we were not working with 35 mm film. It is important to pass on the old know-how, especially at the time when both 16 and 35 mm films began to disappear. I am happy to see that there are more and more people working this way, and this technique also finds its place beside the digital technique. Not against it, but beside it. The Hungarian Filmlab works with full steam on new Hungarian films shot on (like 'Sunset'), and restores classic Hungarian films, some of which are transfered back to film.

Later, also as part of a series, I got to Venice with a sketch film, a part of 'From Europe Into Europe', made for Hungary's accession to the EU. I liked that little piece of work.

In what way has the Venice Film Festival changed over the past quarter century?

The function of big festivals has changed, the market has become increasingly important. Venice had a disadvantage that this aspect was not present, so the major film-makers, or rather the film distributors themselves, were reluctant to launch their films here. Last year it was a pleasure to see again how strong and important the festival became. It is touching to experience that Alberto Barbera, the director of the festival, relates to the movies with genuine openness and humility, and without a hint of arrogance, despite of being the director of one of the most significant film festivals. Serious, real attention is paid to the movies, so it is not sheer name hunt.

What kind of experience was it to be a member of the jury?

The judging last year was my most brilliant one, though I have been a member of sensational juries, for example beside Atom Egoyan, Abbas Kiarostami, Quentin Tarantino and Rosanna Arquette. It was a pleasure to experience that for ten days we could be together with very committed, powerful and passionate filmmakers of different backgrounds, and beside having to decide on all kinds of prizes in the end, we were able to talk about our profession: about the solutions we saw and the considerations behind them. During our first meeting, Annette Bening, who was humble as a jury president, suggested to meet every second day: let's just meet and talk. Everybody was happy to hear this idea, and made time in their schedules for a 45-minute meeting. However, even the first occasion took nearly three hours. And we were not bored. We became deeply acquainted with each other's thinking, and by hearing other aspects, we discovered new things in the movies. These conversations were always deep and lasted long–the decision was made quickly after that. We have been mailing since then; this is the most cohesive jury of my life.

'Tamas and Juli'

What were the aspects of the jury? Have you considered, for example, the presence of social responsibility beside aesthetic aspects?

We were not searching for the perfect movie but the truth, independently of its subject. Internal credibility, internal consistency, and the movie's ability to affect its viewers was more important. I would not weight the aesthetics against the subject. The Silver Lion Best Director award was won by a Frenchman who made his directorial debut there with a drama about domestic violence (Xavier Legrand: 'Custody'), however, we would not have thought of giving him a prize just because of the subject itself—the movie's incredible honesty and power, and disarming inner truth highlighted the film among the other ones competing. Or let me mention Guillermo Del Toro's Golden Lion-, and later, Oscar-winning movie, 'The Shape of Water': it is not common for such a mainstream and highly stylised movie made with tons of VFX and admittedly aimed for a wide audience to be personal in such a brave way. And it seemed to me that Del Toro's speech at the award ceremony confirmed this feeling: he really put his heart and soul into the movie and presented it to us. I am so glad that we have been able to notice this behind all that hype and CGI.

Film festivals are said to have their own images. What is Venice's like? What kind of movies fit here?

All the three big festivals are loyal to different masters, and all of them can be very brave. This bravery is what makes the difference. In Venice, we can see again and again powerful and extreme author's movies which are important elements of our culture, but they would not have a chance to prevail unless such a big festival directs the spotlight to them.

Bálint Kovács