Prologue
In defining the art of György Sándor, the closest approximation may well have been given by Péter Molnár Gál [Hungarian theatre critic, influential cultural commentator], who, in a characteristically “Sándor György–like” idiom, wrote the following about him: “Joke-missionary? Prank-prophet? Jesternomadic? Cabaret evangelist? The joker of an age of disbelief? A guffaw preacher? Not only! But also!”
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A short excerpt from István Lázár’s article published in Élet és Irodalom on 12 March 1982: “I am not afraid to write it down: György Sándor is a humoralist, and would rank in the top band of an imaginary world league. Among his peers, I would name at random Woody Allen, Jacques Tati, and Arkady Raikin.” And according to Zoltán Zelk [Hungarian poet and writer]: “György Sándor can invent things that only Frigyes Karinthy [Hungarian writer, humourist and satirist] could come up with – if he were alive today, sitting at a table in a modern Hadik Café [legendary Budapest literary café].”
The beginning
György Sándor was born as György Streit on 4 April 1938, into a Jewish family in Budapest. His parents had been members of the illegal Communist Party since 1935. His father was an engineer, and during the Second World War, he was conscripted into forced labour service [a system applied to Jewish men in wartime Hungary]. He never returned home. After the war, his mother was left alone and raised her son on a clerk’s salary. She joined the Hungarian Communist Party. György, nicknamed Gyuri was placed in the Rákosi Mátyás Children’s Home [a state-run institution named after the Stalinist leader of Hungary], and then in the Russian-language Gorky School. As a small boy, he was shy, withdrawn, and suffered from a stammer. Only later, as a teenager, did he begin to change – using humour to release his inner tensions.
As a pupil of István I Secondary School, he was already entertaining his classmates as the class jester – at the teachers’ expense. He won a poetry-recitation competition, but his Hungarian teacher did not appreciate the way he humorously rewrote classical texts, and he was therefore expelled from the third year of the grammar school. He ran away from home and went to Kaposvár. He turned up at the Csiky Gergely Theatre and announced that he wanted to work there. The director, Ottó Ruttkai, listened to his recitation and told him that perhaps he could stay on as an assistant dresser, for 300 forints a month. “Please, Mr Director, write to my mother that you are paying me 800 forints a month, so that she may be relieved,” Gyuri asked – and happily accepted the job. He lived in the workers’ hostel of the Kaposvár sugar factory.
Then, in 1958, he applied to the Színház- és Filmművészeti Főiskola (Academy of Drama and Film, today University of Theatre and Film Arts in Budapest). He was admitted to the acting class of Miklós Szinetár. Yet perhaps he himself sensed that his acting career would not be long-lived, for after the entrance exam he whispered into the ear of his fellow applicant, György Kézdy: “I only sneaked in here.”
In the journal Valóság, Károly Szalay [literary historian and critic] wrote the following about Sándor’s beginnings: “He applies to the Academy at a time when everyone wants to be an actor. Out of six thousand, twenty-four are admitted – and he is among them. He is drawn to pantomime and cabaret, but the syllabus prescribes otherwise for him. At the first elimination exam he has to choose a part from A nagy nő (lit. The Great Woman), a one-act play by Jenő Heltai. He performs what is omitted from the play: the interval that does not exist, the scenery, the fireman, the curtain-puller. But this is not enough for Miklós Szinetár and Lajos Básti. At the first end-of-year elimination exam he is expelled from the Academy. He goes to Eger to work in the theatre as a stagehand and furniture-mover (because – as he says – he wants to start again from the very beginning, from the fundamentals). He plays minor roles in works by Gorky, Jókai, and Moliere. Then Szinetár invites him to the Petőfi Theatre as an assistant actor. He is first noticed in The Threepenny Opera. Those who saw him still remember that role today – one which he effectively directed for himself. In Molnár’s Üvegcipő (The Glass Slipper), he was so successful that the critics wrote more about him than about his first solo evening. In Mándy’s Mélyvíz (lit. Deep Water), a character was already expressly tailored to him. He was well on the way to becoming an excellent character actor. But he increasingly stood out from the productions. He over-stylised his roles. He directed himself.”
The performing artist
In 1965, on the recommendation of Dezső Kellér [cabaret writer and impresario], György Sándor became a professional performing artist. In 1966, he presented his first solo evening at the Egyetemi Színpad (University Stage), an appearance that marked the beginning of his artistic career. He broke with the traditions of conventional cabaret and developed an entirely new comic toolkit of his own, which went on to influence both contemporary humourists and authors working in humorous and satirical genres alike.
His principal innovation lay in a return to the ancient traditions of the one-man theatre. He fused the genres of the compère’s address and the monologue. His stage was deliberately simple: he used only a few pieces of furniture and props, in a merely suggestive manner – a stool, a kitchen chair, a boxing glove, and the like. Against a dark background, dressed in dark clothing, attention was focused on the movement of the hands and the play of facial expression. He placed text and textual delivery at the heart of his art, eliminating every element that might prove distracting or misleading.
At the same time, his pauses and emphases played a crucial role in the interpretation of the text, in the sudden cancellation of expectation as it tipped into disappointment – a characteristic comic structure, in effect the very architecture of a joke, realised both in the relationships between words and in the mode of performance. The role of the word itself was central to his art, in characterisation and in the formulation of the punchline alike. Zoltán Zelk referred to this pinpoint characterisation, achieved through a single but perfectly chosen word, as ‘verbal pantomime’.
He created connections between words that endowed familiar expressions with new meaning. He discovered unexpected associations, which his acting technique then amplified. The absurd and voluntary associations defined the comic quality of his texts, and, of course, the manner of revelation as well. In the 1960s–80s, he caricatured both the Soviet and the Hungarian versions of socialism. He could not, however, do so openly, and therefore developed a system of symbols – a so-called crypto-satirical toolkit: he clarified ambiguous words through his facial play, gestures, and intonation. His wordplay and his discovery of surprising verbal connections, the creation of associative links between phenomena that were, in rational terms, unrelated, elevated his performance into the realm of the absurd.
With his solo evenings – Én egy an(alfa)béta vagyok (lit. I Am an Il[litera]te), Bokszkesztyű és rózsa (lit. Boxing Glove and Rose), Nézeteltérítés (lit. Diverted Views), Egyvégtére két vágta (lit. In the End, Two Gallops), Lyukasóra (lit. The Gap Lesson), Horog (lit. Hook), Hintőpor (lit. Talcum Powder), Mágiarakás (lit. A Heap of Magic) – he later found a permanent home at the Vidám Színpad (lit. Merry Stage), the Mikroszkóp Színpad (Microscope Theatre), the Várszínház (Castle Theatre), and the 25. Színház (Theatre 25). He then performed his shows to full houses for twelve years at the Budapesti Kamaraszínház (Budapest Chamber Theatre), and finally at the Rózsavölgyi Salon. With his one-man theatre he reached almost every provincial city, and it was nearly impossible to gain entry to his performances in university clubs in particular.
In order to arrive at a more precise interpretation and evaluation of György Sándor’s career and art, I must quote several of his distinguished contemporaries, artist-friends, and journalists of the time.
István Örkény [writer and playwright, master of the absurd – one of Sándor’s acknowledged precursors] dedicated to him his then newly published Egyperces novellák (One-Minute Stories) with the following inscription: “To György Sándor, the young humourist – a close relative – István Örkény, retired humourist.” It is no coincidence that the roots of this distinctly ‘Gyuri Sándor–like’ humour were perhaps most precisely formulated by Zsuzsa Radnóti [literary editor, Örkény’s widow]. “György Sándor is a master of the intellectual, absurd train of thought, who does not shy away from linguistic and philosophical nonsense, from playful neologisms (though never for their own sake, but always in the service of his twisted ideas), nor even from sheer silliness. Yet he does all this with such unerring precision that he does not remain merely the favourite of connoisseurs. In both himself and his evenings he carries enough plebeian instinct, political consciousness, and public engagement for young people and a broader, urban intellectual layer to gather around him as an understanding audience.”
It was Róbert Friss who placed Sándor’s humour in a historical context in an article published in Népszabadság in 2008: “Seen in this light, the Kádár regime [Hungary’s state-socialist system under János Kádár, 1956–1988] produced two immense – because unclassifiable, genre-creating – geniuses for Hungarian culture: Géza Hofi [Hungarian political cabaret comedian] and György Sándor. How they came into being on seemingly barren ground is something posterity will decipher, if it is interested. They are incomparable – and cannot be measured against anyone else either. Hofi was plebeian, Sándor intellectual. The former spoke out from the tenement corridor; the latter compelled you to think. Both force us to see the world differently, rather than accept the way in which, lazily stumbling before us, it seeks to lie about itself. Hofi exposed everyday stupidity; Sándor busied himself with universal foolishness. There we burst into open laughter; here, pulling our coats around us, we stifled our giggles in shame.”
His former acting-class tutor, later a close friend, Miklós Szinetár, wrote this after one of Sándor’s premieres: “Your programme is brilliant. From that peculiar, bitter Hungarian world of humour stretching from Karinthy to Jenő Rejtő, you have carved out a special segment of your own. This humour is about how one can use the unique Hungarian language to create, at the same time, farce, poetry, and politics. The means is play, verbal twisting, because Hungarian words are so polysemous, and these great humourists – whom I would rather call ‘depictors of situations’, together with you – can reveal so many different faces of a single word. And alongside the written performance there appears another presence: a strange, wise, Chekhovian figure, who truly holds the audience with words throughout the entire evening.”
Imre Antal [pianist and television presenter] characterised Sándor’s art through a striking analogy: “What Gyuri does is like jazz. Jazz does not even have a large audience. Because one has to pay attention. It is not like pop or heavy metal. Jazz is a far more intellectual genre. He is a kind of jazz musician – the jazz musician of his own genre.”
His work as a writer
György Sándor felt equally at home in literature as he did on the stage. He wrote a number of books in which he further developed the lines of thought and stylistic features of his performances. In these volumes he often probed the same philosophical questions as in his stage work, yet writing offered him the opportunity to immerse himself in these themes in greater depth.
His writings were not only entertaining but also thought-provoking. Just as in his stage work, humour and philosophy were interwoven in his texts, and the absurdity of everyday life frequently found expression. At the centre of his writing there always stood the human being – as a feeling, thinking and fallible creature, seeking to find his or her place in the world.
Several of his books were published, including Hogyan lettem humoralista? (lit. How Did I Become a Humoralist?, 1975), Nézeteltérítés (lit. Diverted Views – seven evenings, 1985), Mágiarakás (lit. A Heap of Magic – selection, breviary, 1989), the jointly written Furcsa pár-beszéd (lit. Curious Dialogue, 2007) with András Nagy Bandó [humourist and writer], and the Hármaskönyv (lit. Book of Three). The first volume of the latter bore the title Bevezetés egy személyes színházba (lit. Introduction to a Personal Theatre), the second Átvezetés. Egy másik könyvbe, létérzésbe és örömbe (lit. Transduction. Into Another Book, into a Sense of Being and into Joy), while the third was entitled Kivezetés a szépirodalomból (lit. Outroduction from Belles Lettres).
In 2013, on the occasion of his seventy-fifth birthday, Sándor György 75. – Az életem egy csukott könyv (lit. György Sándor 75 – My Life Is a Closed Book) was published – edited by Csaba Dömény – in which he shared with his readers his reflections on life and death, love and family, romance, Christianity and Judaism.
Television appearances
Although György Sándor regarded himself first and foremost as a stage performer, his television appearances formed a significant part of his career. Through the screen he reached a far wider audience, bringing his distinctive philosophical and absurd humour into people’s homes. Throughout his television career he managed to preserve that unique, reflective and absurd style which had characterised his stage work, proving the versatility of his humour even in new formats and frameworks.
As early as 1966 he appeared in the popular youth television programme Halló fiúk, halló lányok (lit. Hello Boys, Hello Girls). Throughout the 1970s and 1980s he featured frequently in various television cabaret and entertainment shows, and for a time he was an almost permanent presence in the traditional New Year’s Eve cabaret programmes broadcast on television and radio.
In 1982 a television series presenting his solo evenings was produced under the direction of György Fehér under the title Egy végtére hat vágta (lit. In the End, Six Gallops). Fehér sought to recreate the atmosphere, mood and minimalist stage design of Sándor’s one-man theatre. The recordings were made without sets, with only minimal props, against a black background. Sándor himself was dressed in black, but on this occasion he wore a white apron, with which Fehér attempted to make Sándor’s character still more absurd, at the same time lifting the protagonist out of the dark background.
In addition to Rádiókabaré (lit. Radio Cabaret), it was above all through his television appearances that he achieved nationwide renown, creating an entirely new genre with his street-based television sketches.
In 1987, Tivadar Farkasházy [journalist, satirist, television editor] invited him back to Magyar Televízió (MTV, Hungarian Television) for the programme Megengedett sebesség (lit. Permitted Speed), which he had devised and edited; at that time Miklós Szinetár, Sándor’s former acting-class tutor, was vice-president of the broadcaster. A devoted admirer of the György Sándor evenings, Szinetár, now in a leadership role, did everything he could to support his former student. The humoralist went on to create the first Hungarian hidden-camera television sketches. The best known of these was the famous “Burda” scene [referring to the German fashion magazine famous for its sewing patterns]: Sándor would stop passers-by in the street and ask, “Where can I find Majtényi Frigyes Street?” – then, instead of a map, he would thrust a Burda dressmaking pattern into their hands. The amusing situations were recorded with a hidden camera. It was also Farkasházy’s idea to stage the now legendary pawnshop scene, in which György Sándor, posing as a valuer, kept raising the price. On another occasion he stopped pedestrians on the Margaret Bridge in Budapest and told them that they had to pay a compulsory bridge toll – which most of them did without complaint. In reality, these sketches exposed the absurd relations of everyday life.
In 1993 he created a television series entitled Humoriskola (lit. School of Humour), combining the achievements of the street sketches with those of his one-man theatre. On New Year’s Eve 1993 he performed a solo television block, the overwhelming success of which soon led, in early 1994, to a follow-up programme entitled Pótszilveszter (lit. Substitute New Year’s Eve).
Film work
In 2018 the documentary film A sándorgyuri – 80 év 50 percben (lit. The Sándorgyuri – 80 Years in 50 Minutes), directed by Tibor Kocsis, was premiered – with its gala screening held at the Uránia National Film Theatre in Budapest. The then-80‐year-old György Sándor regarded the evening as a fitting farewell, for after the film screening, he returned to the stage of the very building where his career had begun (the Academy of Drama and Film) – the place from which he had once been expelled.
Reception and critical acclaim
His peer Géza Hofi once explained why he considered himself more successful and popular than György Sándor: “I do the same thing as Gyuri Sándor, I just translate it into plebeian.”
György Sándor’s peculiar humour was highly valued both by audiences and critics alike. Although he was not a typical comedian who achieved success through loud jokes, his performances always left a deep impression on viewers. Those who understood and appreciated philosophical depth held his work in particularly high regard. Critics frequently praised his unique style and artistic approach. Many still believe that Sándor added a new dimension to Hungarian humour – one that does not only make people laugh, but also causes them to think.
Honours and awards
Throughout his career György Sándor received numerous honours. Among others, he was awarded the Officer's Cross of the Order of Merit of the Republic of Hungary, later the Kossuth Prize, and in 2014 he was selected as an Artist of the Nation – the highest level of state recognition in Hungary.
In the Hungarian theatre world his influence has also been significant. His monologues and performances brought not only humour to the stage, but a form of theatrical performance in which the relationship between actor and audience is given prominent emphasis. In his performances he frequently asserted the idea that humour can serve as a tool for understanding and accepting the great questions of life. For Sándor, humour was not mere entertainment, but rather a kind of philosophical instrument – one that helps us face life’s challenges.
Legacy
The body of work and style of György Sándor remain long-term defining influences in Hungarian humour. He is often cited as a predecessor of today’s successful stand-up performers. One of the leading contemporary Hungarian comedians, Tibor Bödőcs named him as one of his role-models and “master”.
[2024]