Revisiting Sunshine: A conversation with Istvan Szabo, 25 years later

Twenty-five years after the release of Sunshine, acclaimed Hungarian director István Szabó returns to Cannes with a mix of joy and reflection. Reuniting with his work after so many years, Szabó its that there’s always a lingering urge to “fix” things—an inevitable feeling for any creator revisiting old projects. “To be a filmmaker is kind of a disease,” he says with a smile, describing the persistent drive to create as something he’s never been able to shake.
Szabó speaks candidly about the physical demands of directing. Far from being a purely intellectual or artistic role, directing, he says, is deeply physical—it requires stamina, presence, and the ability to energize an entire set. “You have to keep everyone alive and ready,” he explains, likening the director to a safety net, always ready to catch anyone who might fall. Building trust, he believes, is essential to getting the best from your cast and crew.
Reflecting on the medium itself, Szabó poses a philosophical question: Is cinema truly its own art form, or merely a fusion of others? For him, film earns its place as a standalone art when it captures something uniquely cinematic—like a close-up of a human face undergoing a subtle emotional shift, something neither theater nor literature can fully express.
Though the industry has largely embraced digital, Szabó still favors film. There’s something irreplaceable, he says, about the tactile beauty of celluloid—of holding the film in your hands.
When asked about the meaning of Sunshine, Szabó humbly defers. “It’s not up to me to decide what the film should mean,” he says. For him, it was about discovering the importance of identity—a theme that continues to resonate, perhaps now more than ever.