Filmmaker Attila Szász's Now You See Me, Now You Don't defines perhaps the indie of the independents--a Hollywood style film made with little to no budget. In other words, this isn't a digital fallback. It's not about everyday life. It couldn't be made with three crew members and two actors who sit at a kitchen table and share each other's bowls of cereal. Not that there's anything wrong with those type of independents. In fact, they're among the most pivotal currently being made. Yet, independent films with the boldness to fly in the face of resources and financial security, the ones that look and feel like studio-produced pieces of art, those somehow seem more rare, and at times more wonderful, these days.

After more than two years, Szász's short has drawn accolades from the likes of the Newport Beach, Ojai and Houston film festivals, screened in 23 countries worldwide and landed two distribution deals, including one from Shorts International, a short film distributor with more than 3000 titles in its library, many of which have won honors from the likes of the Academy Awards, Sundance Film Festival and Spanish Goya Awards. "The film had one hell of a ride," Szász says simply.

SM: In a former interview, you'd mentioned that there's little precedent for Hungarian thrillers, and thereby Now You See Me, Now You Don't exists in a solo space of sorts and has, in the eyes of many critics, transcended the cultural marks of filmmaking. What is it like for you to inhabit that space as both indie arthouse outsider and universal storytelling insider?

AS: I’m not really interested in following national or cultural traditions. Just because nobody has tried to make a thriller in Hungary in the last 30 years (if we don’t count a few scenes of Kontroll), it doesn’t mean I shouldn‘t either. I did not grow up on Jancso or Tarr. They were not the ones who made me want to be a filmmaker. Hollywood did. Spielberg did. Hitchcock did. If I tried to deny these influences just because it’s not traditional or culturally „hip“ enough in Hungary, I would have no future as a filmmaker. You can’t force your style. You just do what you feel is right and try to tell stories that excite you. I’d like to make films I would love to see as a moviegoer. At least that’s what I’m about. And I know this will always make me an outsider in the Hungarian film industry.

SM: Compelling in and of itself, the story, even with its well-conceived twists, couldn't carry half its weight without the strength of its harrowing performances. How did you go both about casting and working with the actors?

AS: Choosing the right actor is essential to any film. I was lucky. Very lucky, in fact. I originally wrote the role of Dad for Erno Fekete and he said yes right away. I have seen him in only one film before and I felt this role was something he could bring very exciting things into. I was right. Even if he was already a star on stage, nobody seemed to offer him roles in films. This has changed since, and one can see why. He gave such a withdrawn, un-theatrical performance throughout the film that I almost never had to make him change something or repeat a take. I originally thought that finding the six-year-old Alex will be a nightmare. I was wrong. Six kids came in to audition and the moment I saw Vitez I knew I had my Alex. His sad look convinced me right away and he turned out to be a very gifted and open actor as well. I knew we could not go wrong with him.

SM: Cinematographer Tamas Kemenyffy was first an creative collaborator of yours from school days at the Academy of Theatre and Film. It was only later, after time on his part spent working professionally in cinematography and yours working as a film critic and commercial director, that you'd both come back together to form Extreme Film. How has that relationship evolved over the years, particularly in the last two since both this short and his debut Lucky Man premiered?

We still work together on commercials whenever we can. He’s one of the best cinematographers in Hungary. We submitted both our shorts to every festival and went through this process together rooting for each other. He is more focused on being a director now, he’s just finished shooting his first feature. I had nothing to do with that film, maybe in a later phase, at the editing he will ask for my opinion which I’ll gladly provide. The truth is that we have a completely different taste in films and stories. I guess this has helped a lot with Now You See Me…, because he was always the number one filter and control on the set for me. He could always sense if a framing is wrong or a performance or sentence in the script is false. And he’s the only one who can somehow see into my head. This way he can immediately produce the shot I have in mind which is a tremendous blessing for a director. I would like to keep working with him until I can.

SM: What cinematographic styles and influences were you both working with on the short?

The creative discussion was quick and easy. I told Tamas that I want a similar look that was created by Janusz Kaminski in „A.I.“. He said fine, no problem. He was a big fan of Kaminski, anyway. We watched the film together and that was it. „Poltergeist“ was another visual influence for me when I designed the shots. But surprisingly enough, most of the shots just came out of nowhere into my mind. I guess this happens when one has watched thousands and thousand of movies over the last twenty years. The right image just pops in when needed.

SM: While your experience as a parent influenced you doing scriptwriting, it would do the same very tanigibly during shooting for Kemenyffy as he headed off the third day of production to welcome his daughter into the world. What was that like, both being fathers, while shooting this film?

During shooting I didn’t notice that becoming a father has changed Tamas in any way. He was exhilerated when he came back from the hospital as a father, we even popped a bottle of champagne for him, but we quickly went back to work. The very same night we were shooting the most shocking scene of the film and he confessed only weeks later that shooting that scene was very emotionally challenging for him.

I think the bigger difficulty was that we were surrounded with non-parents on the set. None of the actors or the chief crew members were parents and I had to somehow translate them how certain moments must feel for the characters. Still, everyone was feeling the weight of the story and we tried to overcome it by making a joke of everything throughout the shoot. It made it easier for all of us.

SM: Talking about the story itself, you've said it evolved quite a bit. What was the initial idea, and can you give me a run down of the steps of evolution?

The original idea was quite childish, almost infantile. I don’t want to give the story away, but as I was writing it I kept thinking, "How could I convince the Motion Picture Foundation to finance this script? Only by making it darker and sadder.“ That’s why I ended up with the final concept which got me intrigued from the moment it came into my mind. By the way, the Foundation passed on the project, we have never received any financial support from them.

SM: How has the film changed in meaning in your eyes since you made it?

In the last two years the meaning of the film hasn’t really changed in my eyes. Only the execution seems less and less interesting from a filmmaker point of view. I still like the film, but I would do almost everything differently if I started making it today. The screenplay would be quite different, the shots would be different, the music would be different. Maybe the actors, too. But one shouldn’t give these kind of things too much thought, otherwise we would remake the same film again and again. I guess that’s what you call artistic evolution.

For more information, visit www.extremefilm.com/nowyouseeme/.

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