I’ve been travelling in Holland and now Hungary for all of February. In Holland we were working on post-production for Oscar winning director Co Hoedeman’s stop motion animation film 55 Socks. A short animation tale about the Dutch hunger winter based on a poem 55 Socks from the book A Safe House written by Maria Jabobs. It will be starting it’s festival run late summer. While I’ve been gone (and still on the road) Ryan’s Renaissance screened at the film festival Rendez vous de Cinema Quebecois, aired on Canadian television on CTV/Bravo. Instead of getting all dressed up for film festivals I’ve been travelling through Hungarian villages recording dialects for a voice recognition project. Roughing it with the village people. Lots of macho man.
Oh! Did I forget to mention the Berlinale – that was strange. I guess after a few Berlinales I’ll get used to the Nazi Topographie of Terror museum the remains of Hitler’s SS HQs. Maybe not. The Berlinale Berlin film festival takes place in the very buildings where Nazi party members partied, where Hitler & Co. planned in drunken stupors and lusted for the next kill. Is it the Reichstag. Near enough..? I think so..anyone? Haunted Hungary is full of it too.
Be careful what you wish for you might just get it…How I wish being in three places at once could make me more efficient with more time to get all dressed up. I guess my computer and internet does the job. Last year, I wished to travel more and now, I don’t see it ending anytime soon. I miss my dogs.
What’s next? I’ve been filming footage for my next film I Spy My Father, talking about Berlin. Budapest. I’m in Szeged now. Mysteries and secrets I cannot reveal just yet, unravelling and investigating. Politics of yesterday reinvent themselves compounding “Official” stories still in circulation after decades. I heard one first hand last week. Camera was rolling! I got some amazing footage.
Propaganda is alive and well in haunted Hungary.
Had an incredible photo op at my mother’s family house on Andrassy Ut -the Schanzer Villa which became MUOUSZ (Magyar ujsagirok szovetsege)
Hungarian Journalists Press Club who moved into the house in 1941 proud of their HQs for the past 60 years. I wonder if the journalists would be proud of how they got their LEFT RIGHT muddy hands on the building.Rumour has it gramps went bankrupt before he could finish it…and they still repeat the speech to prospecting investors today.
Then how could my mom be born in the house years after the house was erected and grandfather died in, 28 years later , in the same room.
. It’s awfully (e)strange(d) to be in the country from which my parents fled at different times (1956/1949) but always tumultuous.
Hungary – up for grabs.