In memoriam Latinovits Zoltn
I, Csontvry Kosztka Tivadar
who renounced his youth in
exchange for the world's renewal
at the time I accepted
the holy ghost's calling
I already had
a decent civil job
confort and abundance.
But I left my country
because I needed to leave it
by the single reason
to see it thriving and glorious
at the twilight of my days.
To attain my purpose
for years I have travelled
Europe, Africa and Asia
searching for
the prophesized truth
and practice it's transference
into painting.
I refrained from advertising
because I did not care
about the kuffar's press.
Instead, I withdrew
to the top of Lebanon
where I painted cedars.
Like this, in solitude, quietly
my head covered in autumn
I can only ponder
to what end
wage this great hatred?
Knowing that into heaven
burdened by might and wealth
nobody ever gained admission.
Without a God, I ask -
what is man's purpose on Earth?
Did you get special approval
for visiting at night?
Approval?
I have a special approval -
assignment - mission -
task - obligation - quest -
and it only concerns me.
Maybe you will have company.
Man imagines
all kinds of things.
He imagines he's alone
or he imagines others are with him.
I imagine that I am myself -
and the things
are rising above me.
We imagine every kind
of important stuff.
Mister Artist, you are
destroying your stomach...
Eat before, alright?
No, I don't want to.
Give me back my shirt.
But... you draped me in it
didn't you?
Be kind and turn away...
Here.
What a man am I.
What a man.
They just make me play
what already happened.
Mister Artist, don't torment yourself.
You are admired by the whole world.
Last night
you told such wonderful
stories about the painter you play...
Artists are
exceptional people.
Of course, I will step out
of Mister Artist's life.
- Yeah?
- Don't be mad at me.
And thanks.
Fuck!
Why do you always need
to lead such a conditional life?
My good Lord...
Tell me, donkey -
do I love you dearly?
I love you.
I love you dearly.
My greatest joy
would be served -
if... if I could do it...
if I had the power...
the energy...
and would build up in Hungary
the Sanctuary of Geniuses.
Where everybody could
experiment at large
in a carefree
and informal manner.
Noo no no...
It is not my aim
to win appreciation.
It is not my aim
to be celebrated, to be discovered!
This is not
what is needed.
It's not even about the
works I could create.
No!
I...
I am thinking about...
those people... individuals...
who...
who are truly chosen!
Who are split apart
by the energy of their genius!
And yet,
they have problems confronting
their everyday problems,
their livelihoods.
And at home and abroad...
living in misery...
they fall into depravity!
It is them who
we should take care of!
I will establish the
Ophelia Sanatorium.
The asylum where people may evade,
from the coming healthy world,
to find a place where, finally,
they can get sick.
From the world in which
health will become contagious
they can escape
to that sanatorium where
they can get intimate
with the blessings of disease.
Schopenhauers and Nietzsches
will be born there
Mohammeds and Napoleons!
And if I smartly dose the alcohol -
Bismark, Kemny Zsigmond,
Munkcsi, Poe, Musset, Handel
will I heal into
this bitterly healthy world.
It is not my aim
to win appreciation.
No! It is not my aim to
become discovered and celebrated!
It's not even about the
works I could create in the future!
No, I am thinking about those,
those individuals, who are truly chosen!
Who are split apart
by the energy of the genius!
And yet, they can't,
they are simply incapable to confront
they daily problems and
the woes of their livelihood
and at home and abroad
in poverty...
they waste away!
It is them who
we should take care of!
Because the next century's culture
must be founded with them,
in Hungary!
With them!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Yeah!
I do not expect
the rebirth my motherland to come
from the rich elites...
but from those individuals,
possessing brilliant spirit,
each of whom is capable of propelling
culture further than a hundred schools.
Yes.
More than the mistake of
a hundred schools...
or their foundation...
I understand that
extraordinary responsibility lies on me.
That fate proscribed me
to a place where...
I find myself neither
suitable nor prepared.
It's clear.
Fate has assigned me.
But for what?
For what?
For what?
For what?
Oh, you proud Christians,
you foolish mob,
your feeble cocky minds
sowing hope in the way of perversion.
Don't you see what is man?
Maggot.
Which will form
angelic butterfly
redeeming before judgement
without bearing it's shield.
How can your spirit
soar high above?
But you are
just maggots!
Maybe not even
ready for that...
Into butterfly -
maybe in the future turning.
Good day.
I can't sleep for days, Sir...
I would like to ask for
some kind of a sleeping pill.
Here you are.
Thank you.
Not at all.
To sleep is
not necessary.
Genius can be
who's time has come.
Who was picked
by the hand of fate.
Whose ancestors were endowed
with willpower, spiritual cultivation
and artistic talent.
Who came into the world
by way of full-blood and love.
Who was in love with his nanny
in love with the sun
in love with the comet.
Who was eager to claim the open air
and chased after butterflies.
Who confessed to like the truth
and was never bored by himself.
Who puts love in his craft.
Who searches the future
with his thoughts.
Who broke up with the present
and set sail alongside intuition.
Who every where and occasion
used his heart in confrontation.
There is no place
I cannot glance
upon the sun
or the sentinel stars.
You can ponder upon
truths full of sweets
at any point
under the sky.
And there is no need
for inglorious
even shameful
surrender of myself.
After all...
I still have bread.
I didn't draw
I didn't paint
I just observed, staring at
the monumental beauty of nature
the deep and peaceful
rhythm of feeling
the most beautiful
nature-music of rapture...
I made trips in
all directions
seeking the beauty.
I took delight in the immeasurability
of the large-scale perspectives.
Paint me, Mister!
Paint me!
Escape with me to the mountain,
they can't see us there!
My body is
like the Virgin Mary's!
Don't. No. No!
Because they say I am a whore.
Because the devil is in me?
I just want a man...
Look, Mister,
what a body I have!
Look here!
I want a man.
A man!
A man!
A man!
A man!
A man...
This is the way
of the adulterous woman:
eats, then wipes her mouth and says:
- 'I did nothing evil.'
- Arrived, Mister Artist?
- Yeah Mr. Harkaly.
- Well, you?
- Yeah, me.
After you.
Arrived just now or
were you already upstairs?
Just now.
Fantastic.
Where from?
The mountains,
from the waterfalls.
I from the baker,
fresh bread just arrived.
Smells nice.
Not even love can play forever -
it has to drink from the wine of sorrow
and be reborn in a tear.
- Are you tired?
- No, I am not tired.
Well, then...
Back to the waterfalls, right?
Let's go.
The clocks...
hiding their dreams
in the spine of their skirts
briskly pace along.
So short is our life
a mere few days granted for love...
- Do you like it?
- Oh, yes, very nice colours.
Your water is silent
quiet your splashes!
Viola, you are praised
by every sound!
Oboe, flute, cosmic aula!
But most of all, by me
my little mullberry.
Like the wind of May
messenger of dawn
streaming with sweet flavor
mixed of grass and flower
limp wind which
just pounced my forehead.
I feel the feathers fanning
recalling the smell of ambrosia...
And I hear the Word:
Happy is who gained
such mercy from the sky
that his heart repells
the love for fine flavors
his hunger dedicated only to truth.
Excuse me, I would kindly ask
for some salt and pepper.
God, I am so... confused lately.
Come, Annuska!
- Mom?
- Yes?
I'm so sorry...
I tried my best.
I even sent him a telegram...
You shouldn't have, dear
why do it
he comes anyway!
Comes!
- He surely had to travel abroad.
- No.
- Mom is doing everything for his sake.
- No, you are gravely mistaken.
My Annuska...
I am doing it for everybody:
because of you... because of my son...
and also because of myself.
And of course my gra...
where is my grandson?
I haven't seen him all day.
Outside, waiting for his father.
Tell him to come in at once
the soup is on the table.
Hurry up.
- Please come have lunch.
- Aren't we waiting for dad?
I don't think he's coming.
You don't have to wait.
Come at once!
Enjoy your meal!
Please serve.
Help me some.
My God!
This is unbelievable!
There is enough for everyone
don't sigh.
He came!
Annuska, my dear, he came!
Didn't I tell you?
My son arrived.
He is at home.
Isn't it so?
- He came...
- Told you so...
Dad, I knew you will come.
- Hi, Dad!
- Heya!
- What's up with you?
- Mom, come...
Is my dear Mother well?
In good health?
Don't be mad at me...
You are skinny, my dear...
Nonsense, you are imagining it...
Hey!
- Happy birthday!
- Oh!
Look here!
It's me, in miniature
while dreaming!
My sweet mother...
My prodigal son, you!
Good day!
- Hello, my friend!
- Welcome!
Better late, than never, right?
Your dad brought it.
Thank you.
Happy birthday!
Raise a glass to your health!
Men!
Hey!
Men!
- He's tired, poor thing.
- Dad sleeps here, right?
- Good day!
- Hi!
- Hello!
- Hi!
- How are you, old timer?
- Well, I am...
adequate for inadequacy.
It would be so nice
if you came visit some time.
My husband told me
so much about you.
No no no no...
I can't promise right now.
We'll see... sometime...
Hi.
Good bye.
- Regards.
- Good bye.
- Daddy, you sleep here?
- Where?
Sure, sure...
Try it on.
You always liked it.
These embroideries are so beautiful.
A little bit beat, but...
maybe that gives it charm.
- Beautiful...
- I want you to have it.
No. She wouldn't wear it anyway.
And even if she did...
Don't you want me
to give it to her?
No?
No.
She'd deserve it, though.
She'd deserve much more even.
- Don't you want it?
- No, no.
Rather not.
You've been telling stories
to my mother.
She listens to
the drivel I dismiss.
Things I do with myself...
and other stuff.
That I don't work...
While you still
haven't got a clue...
Thank God....
What do you want from me?
It's your mother's birthday.
Your son is also here,
interrogate him!
You have nothing to say to me
while this lifetime lasts.
What's wrong, dear?
Annuska is also sad.
Are you tired?
You had little sleep.
Don't work up yourself mother
I sleep too much, if anything.
Too much?
If I'd see that...
But it's not what I see.
- Why do it in front of your mother?
- Do what?
The scene with the velvet waistcoat.
Ah, yes.
Although it's simple.
But I'm afraid
you won't get it.
I worry about
the flowers of innocence, get it?
I don't want them to
be scattered into bad soil.
You didn't even notice the flowers.
Your mother must be proud of you.
Where we at?
Almost there.
Stop the car around here.
So pretty you are, birdie.
So good for you.
What more can I get from fate?
What kind of experience?
Wandering, and the climbing of a peak.
In the end, we only live ourselves.
Times in which luck could stumble on us
are well over.
Nothing can happen to me which would
result in something else than myself.
But it will find its way back to me
the one hiding like a stranger
among rocks and chances
for a long time.
And I know another one:
I stand before the last peak.
It had waited on me for a long time.
The hardest road is before me.
The most lonesome wandering.
Furious is the storm
when gets into a wild wrestle
with the spoiled air.
Terrible is the hurricane
when it turns over everything
standing in it's way.
Cruel is the cyclone
when it's accompaniated
by the pile of rubble.
Unpredictable is
the meteorite's landing!
Scary is the sway of the earthquake!
There are the tools-aids
of the world's creation.
If you walk on water
I'm with you.
And the rivers
won't crash over you.
If you walk in fire
you won't get burned
and flame doesn't scorch you.
Don't be afraid.
Don't be afraid!
I'm with you.
I will bring your seed...
From Sunrise -
and from Sunset...
I will gather you into one.
I say to North: grant it!
I say to South: don't hold it back!
So you see that man,
who's utmost wish, his hope
is to return to his homeland.
In his original state he similar
to the insect drawn towards the light.
In a blissful curiosity
he awaits the new summer
new month, new year...
But when his desire is fulfilled
he feels it's too late.
He doesn't suspect
that he waits with impatience
for his very own annihilation.
But to no avail
because it's his quintessence
the very gist
of the elements that form him
held together by
a soul locked in his body.
Wishing back
where he was made redundant.
You must know that
this longing is the seed
the deepest level
of everything.
Nature's helper inside us.
And man is...
the miniature copy of the world.
I have to write a CV,
you could help me.
Pardon?
- I have to write a curriculum vitae.
- Why?
- Whatever. I have to write it.
- Well, write it!
Of course!
But what I can write?
- What could I write about myself?
- Well, your biography.
Yeah, sure.
It's not so easy.
She already left.
At least twenty years
since I wrote one, got it?
Twenty years exactly.
If I'd still have it...
I'd make a copy.
Just in time to write one.
20 years are 20 years.
I'm an actor.
This means that in the mean time
I have no life and no name.
My face and name could change daily.
From day to day.
My biography -
a long series of roles.
Yeah.
Yeah!
I WAS an actor.
But I won't play any more roles.
I won't learn any more texts.
Neither cheerful nor sad ones.
It's over!
I've already said everything.
I can't imagine any more roles.
- What do you want to do?
- To live.
To live!
Of course...
Living isn't
the most important thing for man.
What then?
What then?!
I will come to your institute.
I will live here.
You want that?
Are you so afraid of
writing a biography?
- I will help you.
- Anna, listen, I will move here.
This garden is so beautiful.
And I won't disturb you.
What do you need more?
Caretaker or patient?
Rather you move in
with your mother!
At least pay her a visit!
She's writing to me
asking about you!
My mother...
wrote you...
- Of course, you didn't answer.
- But yes, I did.
I answered.
I replied that I didn't
see you in a long time.
I don't know where you are,
what you do, whom you live with!
Don't get scared,
it's not what I wrote.
But that you are well
and you work a lot.
And I mentioned...
you took up the violin again.
Once again you
find joy in the instrument.
You haven't played
in such a long time.
But you're fiddling once again.
But it's unenjoyable.
Caress me.
God forgives.
That's his job.
Eat!
Dear Flori!
Well?
A little bit more!
We...
lunatics...
still have eyes!
Unfortunately, nature
compensates with animal nature,
making our bodies deplorable
oftentimes a serious burden.
But, in fact,
it's like this since Giotto
who was a sickly man.
And let's think of Rembrandt -
the toothless laughter
of that old lion
how majestic!
His head in bandages
and palette in hand...
he laughs.
- Smoking isn't allowed here.
- I didn't want.
Magdus!
Turn around!
Try to eat a spoonful of soup.
If you have finished eating,
you may go for a walk in the garden.
What a biography writer he is!
Eat!
All right, come on, come on!
Who has finished - go outside.
Take a nice stroll.
You unlucky one...
Hold on! Hold on!
How should I start... oh yes!
- I'll try.
- I haven't played in a while.
I haven't played
in the last 15 years.
Even more 30 years.
Lunchtime!
Get inside! Everyone!
Get inside!
Get inside!
Come!
Get inside!
- Peace be upon you.
- Peace.
So aged is the world.
Man is a reasonable being.
Still, he may only create
his grand works
if he doesn't count
and doesn't ponder
In order to
win back his childishness
he must exercise for years
the art of forgetting about himself.
Who succeedes in this
will be able to think and...
not think, in the same time.
He's like the rain
falling from the sky
or waves chasing
each other at sea.
Your biggest worry is expropriation.
What do you mean by that?
I just imagine it.
I love you!
I love you!
I love you!
Who do you love...
Come here, children, come.
Friends! Brothers!
Come here, all of you!
Don't be shy!
Come!
Drop by!
Enter!
Come and see!
You are my witnesses -
to find out, understand and
believe me when I say
that I am the one.
Before me, God didn't trust creation
upon man - and won't ever do it again!
Behold!
This world
in which we live in
was created by a
great invisible mastermind.
He arranged so that we may find
the void filled with stars...
the Sun...
the Moon...
the lark in the field
the nightingale hiding in the bush...
the canary on the Canary Islands...
And if we go up onto
Lebanon's highest peaks
reaching the home of
the 6000 year old cedars...
we may gaze upon
the of 3000 year old maidens
bowing in their corollae of patience.
Ornate crowns yielding fruit
only in their fourth millennium.
I know the road
which I have to follow.
I know intellectual authority.
World creating energy.
Willpower I must account for
during my journey.
No doubt, it's familiar.
And I know it for sure
we shall arrive in
a better part of the world
and we can delight in
it's inexhaustible beauties.
I love you, Haladzsa.
He will return.
He loves you very much.
You just say that
because you love him.
Ma'am, what I am saying is the truth.
I really feel he loves you.
How... some cannot live
without each other...
People need each other.
In life, between two persons,
nothing can be so unconditional.
By the way,
relax and be informal.
And I will do the same.
You know, from now on, he will be
our sole topic of discussion.
He succeeded.
Men!
Men!!!
He must have been a genius, who came
from the east and looked upon the west.
Who contemplated
the content of the east.
Who saw a difference
in the act of observation.
In the east the ideal world...
in the west the material hostility.
Who looked with love upon
the happyness of eastern man...
and sensed unhappiness in the west.
Who has seen people loaded with riches
among the poor, in the east...
in the west found them separated.
Who saw Man
in every man living in the east...
while in the west most men were
insatiable interest-calculators.
Who has found a kin of
heart and soul in the east...
in the west in place of heart
and soul has found the two-by-two.
Who saw the God's mood in
beautiful air in the east...
in the west found decay,
hiding between smoke and stench.
I had enough of this.
I had enough!
To be a cumbersome clown
in the land of midgets! No!
Don't!
Don't expect anything from me!
No no no no!
I won't be your clown.
I had enough!
Fate appointed me! Me!
What for, really?!
My wings 'inspiration'
and 'willpower'?
No. I am lame,
unfit and deformed!
No! I am, and will remain,
a kid forever!
What do you want from me?
I am a stranger among you!
You call me or you don't, whatever.
Nobody needs me.
You won't make...
a Csontvry out of me.
I don't want the role! Enough!
I won't accept
my shame to outlive me.
I'm tired.
Inspiration? Willpower?
I trusted time will come
when you'll recognize me
and pain will trades places in us.
It's possible that
lately he admitted
he can't create
better or more.
He can no longer take
the megalomaniacal roads.
That his predictions cannot come true.
There are some who can get somewhere
even like this
but there are some who can't...
And if not... well...
that's not a problem either.
Before me the world is still
spread wide open.
I love You.
Majesty!
There is war in the world right now.
Inspiration.
Willpower.
Energy.
These days, there is war in the world.
Now it's winter.
And quiet...
And snow...
And death.
What graces!
You dummy!
My veneration
to the petals of the world.