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I'm Rómeó Rostás,

the first Gypsy pro dancer.

Everybody laughed at me.

Nobody believed it's possible.

But with the motivation I have,

nothing is impossible.

If I told you why I'm lying to you, would you believe me?

You wouldn't like the truth.

And you want truths that you like.

I'm Edmond Kolompár.

I'm a musician, a composer and a traffic warden.

I'm 22 and it's time for me to come clean.

I was born a Gypsy, but I'm not a Gypsy.

How can you tell?

I wasn't a drug addict, never sold prostitutes, never stole a car,

and didn't even deal drugs.

I take regular baths, wear clean clothes,

and never had sex with my sisters.

As I'm not a Gypsy,

a blond, blue-eyed, white guy is going to play me.

Márió Bogdán.

Márió will be reciting his own poem.

Márió Bogdán: Drug Dealer

What the fuck? Who the fuck are you?

You want to die, faggot?

Don't freak out, I won't slit your throat but don't fuck with me.

And look, the cocksucker hangs up on me.

And what are you looking at?

Are you eavesdropping?

You like me? You want to fuck?

You want to start shit? You want my cock?

Here, you can have it, I'll fuck you, bitch.

Son, you remember when you were little, there was debris behind the house?

And the big stone, you remember that?

There were grass snakes under it.

You tamed one and you took it everywhere you went.

That snake wasn't afraid of anything.

Then you took out a bucket,

and you put the snake into it with a giant lizard.

First, they just stared at each other,

and then the lizard tore off the snake's head.

I'm Cristopher Orsós. I'm 25.

I'm the first Gypsy palaeontologist.

Uh, sorry bro, my bad. Did that hurt?

Hey, you want it back? You want it?

You missed the exit.

That's okay, we'll take the next one.

I just have to take care of something. Relax.

Hey, Petra.

Listen, I think this guy's kinda shady.

Somewhere on the motorway.

I don't know.

He's looking for something in the bushes with a flashlight.

- Gimme your phone. - What for?

I just wanna look at it.

What are you taking my phone for?

- Let me have my phone back. - Be a good girl now.

Or I'll sell you to Romania to be a whore.

Seriously, I'll sell you off.

So stay put.

You want a cigarette?

Don't move. Stop it.

Don't you move or I'll cut you up.

Get on your knees.

I said get on your knees.

Lie down.

Then I started panting loudly to make him come faster.

I still have the scars on my hand.

When I got home, Petra bought drugs with the money he paid for me.

One week later she sold off another friend of mine. Like she sold me.

Running, running, I am running,

so my family's not starving.

If I do not go on stealing,

what will my family be eating?

What will my family be eating?

Running, running, I am running,

so my fam...

Ladies and gentlemen.

It is indeed a shocking and moving performance,

but I kindly ask you to remain seated,

the performance will go on as planned.

Actually, it hasn't even stopped.

Everything you see

is part of the play, actually.

Thank you for coming, see you.

All the best.

Hi, honey.

Congratulations.

I'm so proud of you.

It was amazing, and moving.

It moved me so much. And her breakdown at the end.

I mean that it doesn't end, the ending is that it never ends.

It just freezes. That's such a beautiful idea.

Okay, guys, I'll leave you to it, have fun. See you.

And once again, I'm very proud of you all, congratulations.

I love you honey.

This is disgusting.

This is not art.

I really am Szintia Lakatos, all this really happened to me.

You know what this is? A reality show.

It's a Gypsy petting zoo, man.

What you call realism, is just you exploiting our misery.

And what you call absurd, is just plain racism.

And you don't know it, because you're not a Gypsy.

Because you're white.

The play is humiliating, don't you get it?

It only reinforces the worst kind of racism.

And you call this "deconstruction".

You know what you're deconstructing? Your own racism.

And a deconstructive racist is still a racist.

I don't understand why you blame me, why it's my fault.

It was you who froze on stage, and it's you who is hysterical, not me.

The purpose of the play is to prevent cheap sympathy.

You didn't want the audience to empathize and feel better about themselves.

You wanted them to reflect upon themselves.

Why is it my problem that you can't get over your traumas?

Are you ashamed of them?

You're right, I'm not a Gypsy,

but you are.

And if you are ashamed of that, then you're the racists too.

Where's your Gypsy pride now?

If you became a Gypsy criminal only because the whites left you no choice,

then what are you afraid of?

Maybe that you would have become a criminal anyway.

Why are you still around? Get the hell out of here.

Are you stressed?

No need to be stressed, take it easy now.

You're a Gypsy, aren't you?

I asked if you're a Gypsy or not.

Yes, I am.

Great.

Then I'll tell you something. I think you'll appreciate it.

It was late at night.

We were on patrol near a construction site.

Then I hear voices from inside.

I look through the fence, and I see a bunch of people in there.

I take a closer look and no, that's just a bunch of Gypsies.

I'm approaching with my hand on my gun,

and when I get there I see that it's just a bunch of kids.

And then I gave them a stern look.

I saw that they were terrified.

They clearly hadn't eaten for days.

And then I asked them are you hungry, little buddies?

Back then we were in the habit of being hungry. But we just said:

''no, thank you, of course we are not hungry.''

And then I went to the nearest 24/7 store,

and I bought them the biggest bottle of cola they had.

The big, two-litre bottle.

From that day on, every evening we played that we were police.

Look. This is it.

A completely traditional Gypsy house.

It looks even better in real life.

If you like it, it's settled with them.

- It just so authentic. - All right, then.

All right people, let's do it.

Beautiful.

Isn't it beautiful?

It's magnificent.

Magnificent, right?

I wanted it to look exactly like it is in the picture.

Incredible. It just looks like it.

It doesn't just look like it.

It is that very house.

We had it delivered in 3000 numbered pieces.

Come, take a look.

Come. Can you feel the smell?

No.

Just get a little closer.

Yeah. What is this?

This is smoke and filth.

You cannot reproduce this smell.

You cannot act it out.

That is why I wanted to bring it here.

This stench.

Because it really makes you feel that you are there.

And is it not the whole point?

I believe this is unparalleled in German theatre history.

Then wait a second.

We are going to open up the wall.

What is that going to do?

It could be opened up in many places.

Let's get this right, okay? We'll open it up.

Here?

- Right where we tried it. - Get the others.

Cut, please.

So, what do you think?

It's a touch of Marcel Duchamp.

It's a readymade.

Okay, a readymade.

Well then, let's open it a little bit more. What do you think?

That's cool.

Open it some more, okay?

- Like that? - Good enough.

Okay, that'll do, thanks.

It's perfect.

So what do we do with the offcuts?

Nothing, just get rid of them.

- Okay. - Throw them the fuck out.

And what about him?

Who is he exactly?

The house owner's son. You told us to bring him along.

No, we won't be needing him now.

Sorry, but Mr. Director says he won't be needing you now.

Come.

My kids are also ethnic minority youth

with severely underprivileged backgrounds.

Severely... severely...

underprivileged backgrounds.

Victims...

victims...

victims of their circumstances.

The bonbons are great here, by the way.

And the shrimp, they make them hot and savoury,

if you like that sort of thing.

So. The amazing thing about my troupe, is that...

all this has happened to these people in reality.

And this is essential in our play that

everything they say is true.

They really were drug addicts, victims of abuse and ex-criminals.

But they struggled against all the odds,

and they lived to tell their story.

The PR department would like to know if anyone of your troupe was in prison.

No, they were never behind bars.

Lucky them.

Even though for us it would have been better

if one had served some time.

Our troupe, the Ugandan Crossgender Army,

comprised of marginalized youth of Africa,

they have transcended the notion of gender binarity.

And their director was sentenced to death in absentia

just for the performance.

Yes. My kids are an ethnic minority group from

severely underprivileged backgrounds.

They are the victims of their circumstances,

they have every reason to hate our guts.

- And they do. - Of course they do.

I'm fine with that, though.

Only sinners sell better these days.

The Ugandan Crossgender Army kids were child soldiers,

and committed terrible cruelties.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

Thanks a lot.

Thank you.

Thank you.

It means a lot to my troupe.

You know the song that goes "Running, running, I am running?"

You don't?

Running, running, I am running,

so my family's not starving.

If I do not go on stealing,

what will my family be eating?

Positions.

And song.

Running, running, I am running,

so my family's not starving.

If I do not go on stealing,

what will my family be eating? What will my family be eating?

Running, running, I am running,

so my family's not starving.

If I do not go on stealing,

what will my family be eating?

What will my family be eating?

Running, running, I am running,

so my family's not starving.

If I do not go on stealing,

what will my family be eating? What will my family...

Where is the fire?

The momentum? The energy?

From the start.

From the song or from where I come in?

Where do you think the scene starts?

When I come in.

Then be so kind as to start from there.

Cristopher! Could I have my bottle back?

Ready.

Action.

You know the song that goes "Running, running, I am running?"

You don't?

Running, running, I am running,

so my family's not starving.

- If I do not go... - What is this?

Is this what the German audience wants to see?

A pathetic bunch of Gypsies.

When you're like this, what's your excuse?

That you're poor, or that you're a Gypsy?

What's your excuse for being sloppy, because you're lazy?

That I was a criminal?

That I was abused?

That my father always beat me up?

Again. From the top.

Cristopher.

Would you mind?

It's so good you made it home, son.

What happened?

They finally let you out of rehab?

Do you want a beer?

Or are you not allowed to drink yet, or what?

Like, are there any rules?

Are you hungry?

I made meat soup, mashed potatoes, fried chicken and pickles.

Hey, can't you say hi to your brother?

You haven't seen him for ages, and you can't even say hello?

Say hello to him!

Say hello!

Say hello!

I...

Why am I doing this?

Why am I doing this? Why am I beating him?

Continue the scene, please.

But why am I doing it?

Am I an alcoholic?

Take this out.

Listen.

Your role here is to beat up the child, so I want you to beat up the child.

But am I drunk, or am I an alcoholic?

Would you do that for me?

Did my father beat me too or am I just a bad person?

I'll show you, okay? Come, sit down.

So you grab him, and this, this is what you have to do. Okay?

Also, would you say your lines? Because you still have some lines here.

Okay, sorry.

You know, you ask the audience: what can you do?

What can you do in case of domestic violence?

- Your first option is to contact - I've got it, I've got it.

So I'm doing it because I'm a bad person.

All right, then.

Action.

Hey, can't you say hi?

You haven't seen him for ages, and you can't even say hello?

What can you do in case of domestic violence?

Your first option: Contact the police immediately.

Because, no, this is not your responsibility alone.

It falls under police jurisdiction

and it can only happen, because you let it.

Your second option.

Or, the third option.

Rómeó, son, oh my God.

It's all my fault.

I ruined your life.

And your brother's life too.

Everything's all right.

Come, dad, let's go inside.

Try to calm down, okay?

A review about the play says:

"It's not about repeating how hard it is for minorities in society.

But to get you to think about that statement beyond registering it.

It doesn't matter what.

You don't have to be polite or PC, You just have to think."

Yeah, you just have to think.

You know what to think? You know what to think?

Think this: fucking burn in hell, you white motherfucker! Think this!

But the audience likes the play.

That's exactly why.

I have long put everything in its place

Whatever happened is what I wanted

I wanted all of this

All this, all, all of it, I wanted it

All of this, all, all, all of it I wanted all this too

Life is not pretend You need strong will till the end

I don't understand it nor you,

But I will tell my story 'cuz it's true,

The point is self-evident

It's a privilege to be Gypsy because

You've got a million excuses at your paws

You're discriminated against, your childhood was shit

Everyone's empathetic, what an awesome gift

I wanted to be Gypsy, and my dream came true

To be uneducated and underprivileged too

But it wasn't enough to endure words of hate

I also wanted to be a victim of rape

I had prepared

To be spit on

It's such a pleasure

The prejudice is never gone

I wanted to be the token Gypsy in school,

At home I wanted Daddy wringing Mommy's neck.

I planned it all myself and it worked so well:

Mommy got to be a nervous wreck.

I wanted all of this, All this, all of it, I wanted it

They often don't believe me But I wanted all of this

The inheritance my darling mother left me:

I'm demoralized and exploited, oh how lucky

It comes with benefits, but the most crucial

is that Gypsies are wild and emotional

I wanted this too

I wanted that too,

wanted, wanted, wanted, wanted it,

They often don't believe me

But I wanted all of this

I wanted to be born a Gypsy so I always have an excuse.

Now I can always blame my upbringing, my mother and my father.

Everybody is empathetic. And that's good.

Empathy is good.

I had a shit childhood, you understand?

Do you feel sorry for me? Of course you do.

That makes you a good person.

Okay, kids, this is it.

I want you to open up to them, okay? And be proud of your scars.

They've brought you where you are today.

I kindly...

I kindly ask the representatives of the press

to refrain from using the words "Gypsy" and "Roma".

We are here as a troupe, not as a minority. Thank you.

If I am not mistaken you are not of Gypsy descent.

Yes, that's right.

Then why do you feel entitled to make a play based on Roma lives?

Is there something you could possibly say about their world?

This play is not about the Roma people, but about people like you.

People who are willing to pay in order to ease their conscience.

I understand that the play is based on the life experiences of the actors.

We have here drug dealers, heroin addicts,

homeless people, prostitutes, abused children.

Do you find that there could be a danger that it could be interpreted

that their severely underprivileged lives

have catapulted you to the largest theatre in Berlin?

Berlin is a great city,

and it's a fantastic experience for us to be here.

We made this play so these horrible things must never happen again.

I would like to ask Márió.

Don't you think that presenting drug dealing as cool in the play

raises moral issues?

Do you think that crime is the solution for minority issues?

It sure solves our financial issues.

I earned a lot more when I was a dealer.

Even now, sometimes I think that I should go back to dealing drugs.

Szintia, as a prostitute,

how do you see the situation of exploited women in the Gypsy minority?

I'm not a prostitute.

I'm an actress.

But so far you have always portrayed Gypsy prostitutes, right?

And why is that?

Because of prejudices.

But you certainly accept that some prejudices are validated.

Yes, they are validated by racism.

And then what is racism validated by?

Excuse me. Do you have any questions about the play too?

I'm asking Cristopher.

Do you experience discrimination because you're white in a Gypsy troupe?

Excuse me. I'm not white. I'm Roma.

Are you sure about that? Are you sure you are not black, maybe?

Because Roma people usually don't have blond hair and blue eyes.

Are you people really that stupid?

What a bunch of Nazis.

Did you call me a Nazi?

Why? You're all Nazis, aren't you?

Ladies and gentlemen, could we return to the topic of the play?

Please leave personal matters out of the discussion.

Thank you so much. Please stay seated.

So.

I have prepared the following solutions.

The first is...

that we use a photo of Szintia,

life-size or bigger and set up the image on stage.

Or we can project some old film material we have of her.

Or there's hologram technology, which would be the most compelling solution.

It's expensive though, we'd have to postpone the premiere,

so we have enough time to model her.

Listen.

Do you hear yourself?

I'm asking if you hear yourself.

Would you repeat the last sentence?

Modelling.

Projection.

Szintia is not an object.

My troupe are not objects. They're people.

I handpicked them, because of the authenticity of their histories.

There are no substitutes for them.

They are not replaceable.

Borbála Farkas,

Rozália Szabó,

Zsófia Lakatos, Boglárka Kolompár,

Zsanett Bogdán, Ramóna Horváth,

Mercédesz Oláh, Jázmin Fekete,

Vivien Balogh, Szilvia Varga, Erzsébet Báder,

Raffaella Rézműves, Emília Ötvös,

Mária Száva, Katalin Szamanta Kormos.

So. You don't like any of them?

They're all I've ever dreamed of. Next please.

Izabella Bujdosó, Valéria Hídvégi

and Dzsennifer Horváth.

I'm so relieved you solved this so quickly.

I believe this girl is going to be better than the previous one.

I take your word for it.

Yes?

Hello, is this Dzsenifer Horváth's phone?

- Yes. - Could I speak to Dzsenifer?

- No. - Why not?

- Because she isn't here. - And where is she?

How the hell should I know?

So, our problem is that...

It hurts when they think you're only a half-breed

And you believe that their word is how it must be

Your existence doesn't provide solace, just sink inside in silence

But you do it anyway to climb the ladder in defiance.

The dust of the road on your face, and tears no longer wash it

'Cuz you found that taking it quietly is so much more easy

Perpetual shitstorm, the cesspool envelops you

But you know you can get through shit no matter how huge.

Where'll I be in a few years?

With a wife and a flat? With a car and a license?

Will I still have a plan?

Will I still have a goal or will life marginalize me?

Will I sink so low that I'll feel my blood is just as worthless as me?

You've got no self-respect, chucked it in a well, bro

It'll never be the same again, your sense of reality is zero.

Do you really still feel the spark? 'Cuz I haven't for a while now,

Can't stand the pain of life no more, I think I'll rip my heart out.

Okay, that's Márió and Rómeó! Come on over here.

These young men are instinctive talents!

Tonight they called the entire German liberal press Nazis.

Let me hear it! What is the German liberal press?

- Nazis! - Yes, indeed.

Let us give a big round of applause to our Gypsy friends.

Hi, Zsuzsi.

Hi, Crissy! What's up?

Listen, the actress quit and we need someone to replace her.

I think you could really do this,

I showed your photo to the director and he likes you.

If you're okay with it, we could send a ticket today.

Mom said if I can't make enough money I should kill myself.

What money? What are you doing now?

- You know dad has that debt. - Yes?

He couldn't pay it off, so the deal is I have to work it off.

Dad sold you?

- My TV doesn't work but that's okay. - I don't believe it.

- Where are you now? - I don't know.

What do you mean you don't know, what is that place?

- This is my room. - Where is your room?

Abroad.

Maybe the Netherlands.

But people are treating me real nice here. I have my own bathroom.

I'm getting you out of there right now.

I have to hang up now, because I've got a client.

- Great to talk to you, love you. - Don't hang up.

Come Zsuzsi, let's go home.

Cris, c'mon, just leave me alone.

I am sorry, sir. You mustn't take the object.

Sorry. You mustn't take her.

Please, leave, sir.

What an asshole.

- Please leave, sir. - Let go of me.

Leave, sir. Leave.

Crissy, Crissy.

Listen.

Actually, I kind of can't go with you.

I really have to work off father's debt.

How else are we going to get the money?

What's going to happen to dad and mom?

Do you understand?

I'm sorry. I really am.

I don't believe it.

Why do you guys want me to be the bad father?

Who left you, or beat you up, or abused you.

Why do you put me in this position?

Why can't I be the good father?

Who you all can rely on and who helps you stay on the right track?

I'm sorry I left.

It won't happen ever again.

I know it's impossible to heal you all.

I know what had happened to you is irrevocable.

But I want that to change.

I would like you all to be healed.

And I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart.

I know.

Please, don't do this.

I just thought that...

Please, put your clothes back on.

I would like you to leave now.

There you go.

And why didn't you screw her?

Why are you saying that?

You should've screwed her.

That would be taking advantage of her.

You know I love you, but you're making a play about Gypsies.

You're taking advantage of them no matter what.

- You want to come here? - To Berlin?

Why would I go to Berlin?

I got a new play and I should stay here for a couple of months.

A couple of months.

I thought you'd be happy.

Why would I be happy?

Because I'm making a play with the Ugandan Crossgender Army.

About your people.

First, the Ugandans are not my people.

The Ugandan soldiers massacred my people on a daily basis 20 years ago.

Second, you know full well that I was born in Budapest.

Just screw the Gypsy girl and come home.

I'm going to hang up now so I don't have to divorce you.

I miss you.

My lord, you know I love you.

I think thou dost.

Alas thou echo'st me

as if there were some monster in thy thought, too hideous to be shown.

If thou dost love me, show me thy thought.

My lord, you know I love you.

I think thou dost.

And I know thou art full of love and honesty.

One more time!

If thou dost love me, show me thy thought.

My lord, you know I love you.

I think thou dost.

And I know thou art full of love and honesty.

Okay! On the side please lean out more,

like refugees on the news.

Okay? Othello!

I want you to switch positions with Iago.

You kneel down and kiss Iago's hand.

All right?

The audience is going to watch us from the shore through binoculars.

Go!

Alas thou echo'st me

as if there were some monster in thy thought, too hideous to be shown.

If thou dost love me, show me thy thought.

This scene is pure provocation.

It states that white privilege is justified,

and that only the most educated and wealthy 3%

should have the right to vote.

It is not the immigrants sitting in the sinking boat, but us.

Europe as a whole is sinking.

My lord, you know I love you.

Szintia Balogh - D, Elemér Balogh - F,

Márió Bogdán - F,

Kevin Horváth - D,

József Móric Kanalas - D,

Zoltán Lakatos - D, Erik Lakatos - F,

Kitti Mohácsi - C,

Gábor Szabó... Good morning.

It's an honour that you finally joined us.

And you're only 17 minutes late.

Well, it's better than the usual half hour. Go sit down.

Or you know what? Don't sit down.

Let me test you.

Come here.

Here, in front of me.

Well, Márió Bogdán.

Which ethnic group has the highest rate for sex between family members?

I don't know, sir.

Of course you do, Márió Bogdán. Who would know better than you?

You know this ethnic group the best.

I don't know what you mean, sir.

Of course you do, Márió Bogdán.

You sure do.

I don't think this was in the textbook, sir.

There are lots of things not in the textbook.

We didn't learn about it in class, either.

You are so smart.

Come on, tell us. We have time.

I like to daydream, as a child.

I always wonder about those bright spots in the sky.

The light emitted by stars travels 10 000 years before it reaches me,

and I keep devouring one book after the other

just to get closer to the stars.

In kindergarten, I am the kid who learns pages of stories.

In school, I win all the storytelling contests.

But at the age of 10, I'm not sweet anymore. Not any more.

My arms and legs are hairy, my voice is breaking,

like a 16-year old.

That's good, now they don't beat me all the time.

White people are fuckers.

And their children are even worse, because they have no conscience yet.

For 8 years they've been telling me that I stink.

They keep their distance, literally.

I sleep with the window open in my dorm, because they open it every night.

They can't stand the stench of a Gypsy.

Nobody sits next to me at school. If they must, they stay as far away as they can.

Thing is, they're only scared of me.

When I finish elementary school, I'm 165 cm and 99 kilos.

Now they're scared shitless. They should be.

I'm proud that when I start dealing at 12, it isn't weed.

That's small-time. K2, spice, meth, crack.

I'm an addict by 14.

All day I'm dealing and smoking like crazy.

I'm a big man now. I get phone calls every 5 minutes.

I get in and out of cars. I'm my own man now.

I don't have to be afraid of dying like an average guy.

And for the next 2 years my routine never changes.

The faces are different around me, I have even more money and even more drugs,

but nothing else changes.

Because everything stays the same.

Every night I go to bed thinking:

I might not wake up tomorrow.

Dear children, as you enter the real world,

let me give you one piece of advice.

If you deal drugs, mix it with rat poison: it will make it hit harder.

Just make sure you don't smoke the rat-poison part.

Because you will sell it to a friend. Them and others, too.

Anyone could do it, but it'll be you.

You will ruin lives, just like you ruined yours.

All right, kids, let's start over.

You know what? I'm going to lie to you then.

I see that it would make you feel better.

You'll be a policeman, you - a judge,

You - an architect, you - the Minister of Education,

You - a heart surgeon.

You'll win the Nobel Prize, you'll have your own restaurant,

and you'll be simply very important.

Stand straight, tuck your shirt in,

let's start the national anthem.

O, God, bless the Hungarians

With your grace and bounty.

Extend over them your guarding arm,

During strife with their enemies.

Long torn by ill fate,

Bring upon it a time of relief.

This nation has suffered for all sins,

Of the past and of the future!

Sometimes I just want to walk up to you

with a big smile.

Punch you, take all your money and walk away,

so you reap what you sowed.

You made me believe this is who I am, how I should live,

because I was created for this.

You're wrong.

Only Márió Bogdán gets to create Márió Bogdán, nobody else.

My name is Márió Bogdán, I'm 23 years old,

and I want to tell you that I'm still here.

Now you're thinking: in the end everything will turn out right,

and all the suffering will one day be over, but no.

Nothing turns out right

and nothing is over.