Parallels meeting in a film – Interview with Márta Mészáros
I'm not the sentimental type. Yet it happened to me recently in the cinema that the dramatic duo of Mari Törőcsik and Ildikó Tóth - with the seemingly unassisted performances that are the hallmark of the greatest actresses - opened up the channels of our own family past. I suspect that while we, as viewers, have come to the conclusion that we cannot live, love, know ourselves or even die without knowing the past, many of us were watching a parallel film. We talked to director Márta Mészáros about her 26th film, Aurora Borealis - Northern Light.
Did you receive any feedback that the events depicted in the film resonated with the personal family stories of audiences?
“It is true that the screenings so far show that it moves something in everybody. I reckon that I have never made such an emotional movie before, I was always interested in the fate of women and children, the depiction of suffering is important for me, but I don’t like sentimentalism.”
The backstory to Aurora Borealis could also have been the subject of a Márta Mészáros film. News reports suggest it was preceded by a great deal of investigation and many conversations.
“Four years ago I read an interview in the periodical BBC History with Viennese sociologist Barbara Stelzl-Marx, who has devoted her life to researching the parents of children born of war. They set up an institute in Graz designed to help this invisible generation that does not know its roots and who have had the identities of their fathers concealed.”
Is it this institute that appears in the film for a few minutes?
“Yes, and Barbara even got access to KGB files in Moscow. They only dealt with concerned Austrians but after the Second World War many children were left in Europe who had been born largely as the result of rape or from relationships between local women and occupying troops, and whose origin was concealed out of a sense of shame or fear. Firstly, we made a documentary film about the Austrians and I got to know many very fine and many extremely ugly dramatic stories. Today, there are several hundred thousand ‘war children’ living in Europe: children of Russian, American, English, French, German, and Polish soldiers. During the Soviet occupation, Hungary underwent similar traumas but a start on researching Hungarian ‘war children’ has not even begun. We started writing the screenplay of Aurora Borealis with Éva Pataki and Zoltán Jancsó. The base story plays out in Vienna during the occupation of the city by the four Allied powers after the war. Right from the start I had Mari Törőcsik in mind for the lead role, the part was written for her. We always got on well with her but since she has been ill, I go to see her even more frequently and we chat a lot. I always considered her a great actress but after she came out of coma her impressive human qualities have also intensified. The Mária in the film is similarly lying in a coma between life and death while her daughter starts digging into the past.”
She also has a grandchild who turns to the past with interest but no fear. It is partly this child that induces the mother to begin researching. Is this difference in attitude typical for first and second generations processing trauma?
“The relationship between the mother and son in the film is very open, unlike between the mother and daughter. Once the grandson realizes that there are several secrets, he takes a smart, undramatic approach to the issue. His relationship with his grandmother is also good, he shows wisdom in his questioning and does not reproach her. I have found that many families break up because the children are angry with the parents for not telling them the truth out of a sense of shame and fear. In Hungary, people are less forgiving which is why it commonly happens that the parents don’t tell their children the truth. The statistics confirm, for example, that compared to the Poles there are many more divorces, contacts between relations are not very good, and lies within the family are extremely bad for the family. Not only because as Slavs, the Poles are more emotional but because they are extremely devout and religion is good for family relationships. They have a strong maternal cult, grandmothers are respected and they love the elderly. As far as I can see, in Hungary young people resent the elderly, they sidle away from them and don’t give up their seat for them. They have some sort of inner tension. I have worked my entire life yet I managed to bring up three children, I have nine grandchildren that I still have time for. The problem is with the soul and I think part of this is down to parents not being honest.”
Do you believe in God?
“Look, I lived in Poland for 20 years, my partner’s family were simple believers from the countryside. My father was executed, my mother died because of this, at ten I had nobody, and when I met Jan Nowicki, his loving sister and mother had a very great impact on me. It was a beautiful and kind family. They took religion seriously, at Christmas there were 13 plates on the table, one reserved for Jesus. They not only unwrapped the presents but they also spoke about what made them happy or unhappy. I first heard of Katyn in a Polish village church, we prayed together for the victims even though at that time there was socialism there, too. This openness had a great influence on me although I am not religious. But I have faith within me. During my childhood I grew up without a family and that is why mentally and emotionally I always lived together with my parents. Without faith, this cannot happen.”
The film’s cinematographer, Piotr Sobociński Jnr., is also Polish. Why did you choose him?
“His grandfather, Witold Sobociński, was cinematographer for Andrzej Wajda and Polanski, and we filmed The Seventh Room together with his father, Piotr. This movie is about Edith Stein, faith, Jews and Carmelites. The Hungarians didn’t watch it but it was his favourite film. When he went to America to work he took this with him to show his producer, who screened it for Mel Gibson. Maia Morgenstern was my lead role in The Seventh Room, from where she was selected for The Passion of the Christ. At that time Gibson wrote me a few lines thanking me for the film. I was lucky with the Diaries because audiences were slightly more interested in the past around the time of the change of regime.
“But coming back to the cinematographer, I was in a trattoria in Warsaw once when from a distance I thought I saw Piotr standing in the doorway, but he was no longer alive then. It was his son and he told me he was studying cinematography. I wrote his number down and told him that he would be my cameraman on my next film.”
It appears from the choice of screenwriter and cinematographer that in the profession, too, family tradition is important for you.
“It is important. We also paid a lot of attention to our children, nearly everyone was involved with film, and although my daughter is a ceramic artist she has made many clothes for me and for her father’s films. Nyika is a very good cinematographer, Zoli is a good writer, everyone here is involved with culture, there are no business people in the family. Miklós loved the grandchildren, he was a better grandfather than father. At that time he was always travelling but he spent hours talking with his grandchildren and reading to them. His grandchildren really miss him.”
And how did you come to choose Franciska Törőcsik to play the young Mária?
“We had already gone through all the attractive young actresses and we thought we would never find anybody when she walked in, we chatted a bit, I looked at her, I think I even asked her to take a small pillow in her hands as though it were her child. I knew almost immediately that she was the talented actress I wanted, her individuality simply poured out of her, she is very diligent, collected, attentive, I like this type.”
You didn’t even look at her earlier films?
“Of course I didn’t! This is one of my skills, I virtually never make a mistake in actors.”
And Ildikó Tóth?
“Ildikó is also a wonderful and modest actor. When we were shooting the scenes for Mariska (Mari Törőcsik), who had to sit in a cold peasant house for a long time despite her being ill, everything revolved around her and she found it very difficult to put up with the cold and the inconvenience. Ildikó was a bit scared of the big scenes in which they are together a lot. In one of the scenes, Mari, as if she hadn’t noticed Ildikó, turned to me and said, ‘You, Mészáros, you were right, this is a great actress.’”
The secret comes to light in this peasant house. Sometimes through a flashback, sometimes through a cruel comment, whichever is more effective. Was this originally like this in the screenplay?
“No, these came about on the spot. The screenplay is important for me to provide a good structure and the dialogue should not be nonsense. Ildikó and Mari know everything about themselves, they were clever in changing words here and there, their most difficult scenes were performed in a spinetingling way, they moved and communicated with each other very effectively. And the scene where the secret is unfolded that lasted from the afternoon to dawn is enhanced by incredible light and spatial effects.”
Márta Mészáros is a Kossuth Prize and Balázs Béla Prize laureate screenwriter and director of Adoption (Golden Bear, Berlinale 1975), Nine Months (FIPRESCI Prize, Cannes 1977) and Diary for My Children (Special Jury Prize, Cannes 1984). In 2011, she received the Hungarian Film Critics Lifetime Achievement Award, in 2013 the Prima Primissima Prize, and in 2016 the Pula International Film Festival lifetime achievement award, the Golden Arena. Since 2017, she has been a member of the American Film Academy which decides on the awarding of Oscars.