Magyar News, 1999. szeptember-2000. augusztus (10. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
2000-02-01 / 6. szám
What do the film "Lies My Father Told Me", the Remington Shaver commercials of the 1980's, and "Gül Baba" have in common? They were all filmed by Hungarian cinematographer Árpád Makay, father of Csilla Somogyi of Cheshire, CT. A lifetime of cinematic successes in Hungary and in the U.S. might have made a lesser man conceited and unapproachable; not so Árpád Makay. He is still a humble, simple man, radiating good humor and optimism, the epitome of calm. "Sometimes I wish he’d lose his temper,” remarked his son-in-law Dr. Balázs Somogyi, “because he holds it all in. It would be healthier for him to vent." Nevertheless, (apart from using a hearing aid), his health seems fine, as he approaches his ninth decade. Born in Radnót, Transylvania, in 1911, Árpád Makay arrived in Budapest with his parents and older brother after World War I, since his father, a doctor, was unwilling to take the oath of allegiance to the newly established Romanian government. By the time he finished high school ("gimnázium"), inflation and unemployment were rampant, and further study was out of the question. What career to choose? All Makay knew was that he definitely did not want to spend his life working in an office! He decided to try the movie industry. The Hunnia Film Works at that time hired 2 or 3 trainees every year. Through his father's connections (he doctored the family of the Interior Secretary's wife), Árpád Makay was accepted as one of the trainees, for a one year stint, that imperceptibly stretched to three. He learned every facet of film-making, starting with the sound department, and assisted at every film that was made there. He also observed the methods of foreign film-makers who had come to the Hunnia to film their works. Makay decided to become a cameraman, and worked as assistant and trainee, until he could judge the difference between good and bad cinematic solutions. His first break came when he was sent out to film the extra footage for a feature film called "Tokaji rapszódia", a sequence of shots about the wine harvest festival. "I was very nervous the morning the director was to view my footage: did I achieve the effect I myself had aimed for?" He need not have worried; great applause greeted the showing, and someone com-Árpád Mákay -with the Hungarian Film Council ’s Lifetime Award mented: "Even an experienced cameraman couldn't have done as well!" His first independent film was "Karosszék" ("Armchair") which he filmed in 1939. It was a huge success, and "people prophesied for me a great future, which did come true," explained Makay in a recent interview. This was followed by "Halálos tavasz" ("Deadly Springtime") of which one critic wrote:"Árpád Makay, however, did such brilliant work that one should applaud him alone after each frame"; Zilahy's "Valamit visz a viz" ("The Water's Carrying Something"), of which a reviewer wrote, "The Danube as photographed by Makay glitters with so much beauty that we've never seen such river shots in Hungarian film"; "Gül Baba" (about the pasha who raised roses in Budapest at the time of the Turkish occupation), which won him national acclaim and a Cannes Film Festival commendation; “Vissza az úton” (Back Along the Road"), a Hungarian version of the German film "Blue Angel"; "Mezei próféta" ("Prophet of the Meadows") about the life of Transylvanian author Aron Tamási, and many others. He received such critical acclaim for his films that "it became routine. The worst was just simple praise," reminisced Makay with a smile. He worked with all the top Hungarian actors and actresses. Who were the most difficult to work with? "I got along with all of them," replied Makay. "A few first-class male actors — Csortos, Somlay — were more difficult." He found it easier to work with actresses whom his expert camerawork could transform into beauties. "The one exception was Gizi Bajor," reminisced Makay. "There was nothing I could do to make her look beautiful!" The story of a famous Hungarian Cinematographer Árpád Maküm
