Orphan [+leggi anche:
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intervista: László Nemes
scheda film], competing at the 82nd Venice International Film Festival, is the third feature by Hungarian helmer László Nemes. Recreating the harrowing mid-1950s in his birth country, the Oscar-winning director found the main story and protagonist in his own family – specifically in his father – but simultaneously drew on his own experiences in the 1980s.

Cineuropa: Your father, for the record, is none other than András Jeles, himself a renowned filmmaker, right?
László Nemes: Right. And my father was here in Venice in 1979, when I was two years old, with his film Little Valentino. This was in a political period when the festival didn’t give out any awards, which made him quite disappointed. And just one year later, in 1980, they started giving them out again…

Andor, your young protagonist, is 12 in the story of Orphan. He’s been told by his mother that his father was sent to a camp and is presumed dead. But when it comes to Andor’s actual biological father, the truth turns out to be quite different. Your own father’s backstory is indeed what Andor’s story is based on, right?
This backstory has haunted my family’s lives ever since it actually happened. Its genesis also concerns and affects me. I’ve been aware of it since childhood, as my grandmother told it to me. My father had to learn that his name and origins were not what he had thought they were, and this at the age of 12. Tremendously traumatic. I used his story as background material, and then adapted it, with personal projections of my father together with my own ideas on approaching the subject. I feel a responsibility, including to my audience, to pass this information on in the right way. It’s easy to make images, but I also want to be honest. That’s what I strive to do, and to also make space for personal interpretation. When I notice this interaction with viewers, it gives me an almost spiritual experience.

What kind of boy were you at that age?
I was sensitive, but not with the rage that Andor has in the film; rather, I was more silent. I had a very interesting world of my own, and I was left alone. My grandmother was my biggest emotional link. Her love saved me, in a way, in a life with my parents having divorced very early on, both of them carrying the weight of World War II, which certainly was true of my grandmother as well. But I received a lot of love from her, and also information.

When the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, you yourself happened to be 12. What are your memories of that time?
I grew up in the 1980s in a very repressive society. I sang marching songs for hours in front of Eastern German officers. Not fun at all. I’ve retained that feeling from the 1980s and put its energy into the film.

Can you talk about the movie’s particular look? It almost has a magical glow at times.
I’ve tried to create a magical look, which is that of a child’s eyes and perspective, but also strived to depict the repressive side of Hungary in 1957. Both are combined, as sincerely and emotionally as possible, in order to give a voice to a civilian population that experienced layer upon layer of very difficult and traumatic – and also sometimes untold – times.

During your younger years, were you also aware of the very devoted and romanticising pro-communist activism simultaneously happening in Western Europe, especially among the younger generations?
I was, and they’re still around. My father always said, “Just wait until you experience it – when they come for you.” Because, let me tell you, humans are very good at reorganising their totalitarian regimes. It always takes on a new form, always with hope as an energy source to draw from. But in the end, you just become a useful idiot in their game.

What are your future plans?
I’m starting to work on a French project in September, called Moulin. It’s about Jean Moulin, the French resistance fighter, during his last days. It’s very intense. We’re doing it in CinemaScope, anamorphic.

You seem to avoid contemporary settings, don’t you?
Shooting people with iPhones for shorts isn’t really my thing, no.