Budapest Theatre Digest

Sexuality, Repression, and Theater Takeovers: How Offerings at Baltonfüred’s Film Festival Reflect Hungarian Reality

June 2021 has seen the passage of a controversial anti-pedophilia bill in Hungary with thousands taking to the street in protest. No, the throngs were not defending the rights of pedophiles. In fact, the bill was a Trojan horse, designed to force through measures that already exist in Russia, and it is eerily similar to bills under consideration now in conservative states of the US – namely, criminalizing the teaching or promotion of homosexuality in schools. Ultimately, this contributes to an atmosphere of silence, intimidation, and repression which has far-reaching negative effects.

In defense of his bill, Prime Minister Viktor Orbán claimed on a radio talk show that the legislation was intended to give parents the choice how their children were educated about sex in public schools. Now, this argument can be attacked from many angles. Nevertheless, let us restrict ourselves to the law’s effects. Educators and school employees would be discouraged from mentioning homosexuality in any context. They could face punishment or the loss of their jobs. Indeed, acknowledging that any historical or literary figure might have enjoyed a same-sex relationship would be promoting a homosexual lifestyle. Hence, the bill fosters an atmosphere of fear while contributing to ignorance, which makes any frank discussion of sexuality very difficult in present-day Hungary. Moreover, by treating homosexuality as a mental illness or a crime (as the law implicitly does by lumping it together with pedophilia), it creates the perfect circumstances for repression and discrimination.

Musical: Group Therapy

This brings me to the very first film on the program for the film festival here in Balatonfüred. The title is Csoportterápia (Group Therapy). It is a made-for-TV adaptation of the musical of the same name, which premiered in Budapest’s Madách Theater in 2011 and afterwards enjoyed an even longer successful run in Kecskemét.

Overall, the script and the resulting movie are very effective. Events are confined to one room; yet, taking a cue from the 2002 film adaptation of the musical Chicago, the musical numbers allow the characters to enter a fantasy realm of Broadway costumes and sharp choreography. The cast, largely recruited from the performers in the Kecskemét production, are mostly solid in their roles.

The weak link is the character of Sylvester, nicknamed “Sisi” like Hungary’s beloved Queen Elisabeth. He is a harmless individual, and while not necessarily mocked, his exaggerated effeminate mannerisms are a constant source of comedy. Later in the film, he reveals his “big secret”, that he is actually straight. (At that point, it becomes the old SNL sketch with Dana Carvey, “Lyle, the effeminate heterosexual” from 1989.) His therapeutic breakthrough comes when he acknowledges that he is a man.

Not only does this conflate gender and sexuality (an attitude that one still often hears in the current dialogue, sadly), it supports the notion that homosexuality – while not evil, per se – is a mental illness that can be cured. When asked what caused his sexual-orientation confusion, Sisi cites his liberal upbringing and parents who would accept him no matter who he was. Obviously, this argument ludicrous; but, in light of the current Hungarian legislation, it is even quite chilling. The lesson remains that parents must enforce a conservative and intolerant atmosphere in the home, or else the liberal agenda will turn their children gay.

While I am fairly certain that the creators, Vajk Szente and Attila Galambos, did not have these harmful messages in mind, their story still builds on these outdated fears and prejudices that the current administration wishes to stoke. As I explained, roughly ten years passed between the production’s original premiere and the filming. It is a shame that they did not take the opportunity to update the script in order to handle this character in a more nuanced and realistic way. This could have been an opportunity to educate audiences about outdated misconceptions surrounding sexuality, possibly even bi-erasure – that is, if the character Sylvester were reluctant to come out as bi on account of rampant misunderstanding. Sadly, the chance was wasted.

Documentaries: Return to Epipó and Story of My Mothers

On a related note, the documentary Visszatérés Epipóba (Return to Epipó) by Judit Oláh sheds light on the consequences of silence and repression. The film examines the case of a notorious summer camp that was closed in Hungary 25 years ago (during the Kádár Era of Communism) when certain children came forward with stories of how their camp leader was grooming and molesting certain underage campers. The camp leader in question never faced punishment, partly because authorities were reluctant to admit instances of sexual abuse, especially homosexual in nature. Victims (particularly, the parents of victims) feared the public shame associated with giving testimony. Thus, the abuser was allowed to go free.

This was followed by Anyáim története (Story of my Mothers), a documentary that follows a contemporary lesbian couple over the course of three years while they underwent the difficult process of adopting a child. As a so-called “disadvantaged couple”, they are allowed to adopt a “disadvantaged child” – which, in this case, means a female baby of Roma heritage. We watch them overcome some difficult parenting situations, and the film culminates with their decision to leave the bigoted environment of Hungary for a chance at a better life in Austria.

At a post-screening talk with the audience, the two female directors (Asia Dér and Sára Haragonics) claimed it was their intention to make a personal and not a political film – only recent events have made their documentary quite topical. The couple we observe seems rather quirky and offbeat, so their relationship comes off as authentic and unforced. If I discerned any political message in the film, it had to do with the couple’s financial security. They lived in a beautiful home with a panoramic view in Solymár, a wealthy suburb of Budapest. Their kitchen was literally cluttered with material conveniences. I do not wish to imply that having money guarantees good parenting, but this would be a great home to grow up in, for any child fortunate enough to be plucked from the state-care system. It felt as though the filmmakers (intentionally or not) had cherry-picked the ideal adoptive parents.

Comedy: Ecc-pecc

The last show of the evening was a soap-bubble of a comedy entitled Ecc-pecc. This expression comes from a children’s rhyme similar to “Eeny-meeny-miny-moe”:

Ecc-pecc, kimehetsz                            Hey-ho, you may go

Holnap után bejöhetsz,                       You can come back tomorrow

Cernára, cinegére,                              For string, for yarn, for a tit-mouse

Ugorj, cica, az egerre! Fuss!               Kitty, pounce upon the mouse! Run!

Here the story concerns a fictional theater in Budapest that is turned upside down by the appointment of an uncultured businessman as the new manager. On some levels, the film is already quite topical, if not realistic. Theaters in Hungary are heavily subsidized by the state, and managers must submit a tender to justify their leadership position every five years. When there is a shake-up – when a popular manager steps down or is unceremoniously replaced – it can cause uproar and outrage. For the sake of background, I will give three recent examples that stick out in my memory.

At Új Színház (New Theater) in 2012, a former actor with outspoken far right-wing convictions, György Dörner, took over after a fairly murky public procurement process. As a result, a significant number of actors in the repertory company (i.e., under contract) quit the theater in protest. One may argue that Új Színház has never fully recovered.

There was a shake-up at the National Theater of Budapest in 2013, when the newly-reinstated Orbán administration replaced the successful and publicly liberal manager (Róbert Alföldi) with a conservative extra-national Hungarian director much more to their liking (Attila Vidnyánszky, Sr.). Rather than effect a smooth transition, the new director immediately cancelled all Alföldi-directed productions overnight, as though purging an infection. Again, many actors quit in protest. To fill the gaps, Vidnyánszky imported several shows and actors he had worked with previously.

Most recently in 2020, Enikő Eszenyi, an ambitious and successful theatre manager by all accounts, was ousted from the respected Vígszínház (Comedy Theater) in favor of Péter Rudolf. Since her leadership skills were unquestionable, detractors attacked her character. I heard so many conflicting versions of this story, I cannot report on it with complete assurance. In general, however, company members testified that she behaved egomaniacally, was impossible to work with, and (according to one account) coerced artists into performing uncomfortable “acting exercises”. Given the ugly nature of the allegations, Eszenyi chose not defend herself. Instead, she withdrew her tender.

Similar phenomena can be seen in education, where the government has deemed it necessary to restructure institutes of higher education as foundations, each run by a curatorium of trustees, who are essentially appointed for life. This has led to the recent collapse of Budapest’s University of Theatre and Film Arts (Színház- és Filmművészeti Egyetem, or SZFE). When professors and educators realized that the trustees (some of whom were businessmen with no background in the performing arts) had no interest in their opinions – indeed, the board was unwilling even to meet with them – they stormed out in protest. They were followed by the students, who eventually occupied the building on Vas Street, giving rise to the “Free SZFE” movement. The government tried various means to end the protest like cutting power to the building, all the while referring to the demonstrators as law-breakers and hooligans in mainstream media coverage.

(Interestingly, one trustee with a theatre background appointed to the board of SZFE is none other than Attila Vidnyánszky, Sr. By occupying leadership roles at both the National Theater of Budapest and the University of Theatre and Film Arts, he has assumed the stature of a Post-Communism Tamás Major, the man who dominated Hungary’s theatre scene during the Kádár Era.)

So, back to the film, the premise of Ecc-pecc is fairly realistic – only the power shift at the fictional theater is orchestrated by a private businessman, not the government. (We never see the face of this mastermind, who is filmed liked Dr. Claw from the old Inspector Gadget animated series.) Mundane details regarding the theater’s operation seem credible, so director Isti Madarász is probably familiar with this world. Still, the characters on display are paper-thin, as we have come to expect from recent comedies (following perhaps in the footsteps of Gábor Herendi’s Valami Amerika trilogy). Their personalities can usually be summarized with one adjective: vain, stupid, ambitious, greedy, irreverent, etc.

The protagonist-director is nearly framed in a drug scandal, which, I dare say, would hardly be a scandal nowadays. However, the ultimate unrealistic element of Ecc-pecc is that our hero, the idealistic director played by Csaba Pindroch, finally succeeds in wresting control of his theatre from the venal usurper played by Tibor Szervét. In none of the instances I cited above has the government ever reversed a controversial appointment, regardless of the outcry or the relative merits of the appointee. Moreover, the status of SZFE (The University of Theatre and Film Arts) remains in limbo. During the pandemic, students ceased to occupy the building, which remains in the government’s hands; yet, due to conflicting reports, even the fate of the building is uncertain. It is hard to imagine an end-game for the outraged students besides merely expressing their protest in the face of an unbeatable enemy.