A witness to great times, one of the last of the Mohicans: the Matyó daredevil who almost rode straight through the golden age of twentieth-century Hungarian cinema. He brought the foundations of his acting craft with him from Mezőkeresztes in Borsod to the capital, determined, like the literary heroes he would later portray – above all Marci Kakuk – to make his fortune.
At his entrance examination for the College of Theatre and Film Arts, he recited János Arany’s The Bards of Wales. The young Matyó man’s Palóc dialect so impressed the admissions panel that they asked him to perform Arany’s ballad again in the second round. He was less at ease, however, with an improvised acting exercise in which he was expected to sit, with appropriate conviction, on an imaginary drawing pin. Relying on his “peasant common sense”, he quickly extricated himself from the situation by declaring that “the drawing pin ended up in the middle”. In one stroke, he won the favour of the panel members, among them his future mentors Ottó Ádám and Zoltán Várkonyi. He was admitted on his first attempt: out of 3,500 applicants, he became one of the twelve selected.
Yet he did not let his success go to his head. Since students were not even allowed to work as extras during their first two years, he knew that he needed to find a source of income as soon as possible. He worked as an unskilled labourer at the Csepel foundry and shovelled coal at Józsefváros railway station on weekends. At the same time, he learned from Ottó Ádám how an actor should think, while Zoltán Várkonyi instilled in him the imperative of authenticity on stage. “You can be false thirty times, but when you are sincere for the thirty-first, you must capture that state of mind and reproduce it every evening,” he later recalled Várkonyi telling him. [1]
Student films and well-paid film shoots soon came his way. By the time he received his diploma, he had already appeared in six films. During this period he made Legenda a vonaton (Legend on the Train, 1962), Pesti háztetők (Rooftops of Budapest, 1962), Isten őszi csillaga (Autumn Star, 1963) and Angyalok földje (Land of Angels, 1962); by then, the French–Italian–Hungarian co-production Germinal (1963), based on Émile Zola’s novel, had also been filmed. For his portrayal of Souvarine, he received the Hungarian Film Critics Award in 1964. [2] His class teacher, Ottó Ádám, however, would not allow him to take part in Pál Zolnay’s planned production Csend (Silence), because he had a substantial role in mind for his student in the graduation performance: one of the leading parts in Maxim Gorky’s The Petty Bourgeois. [3] [4] “Gábor Koncz’s cantor Tetyerev is the most significant performance of the production. The director has placed him at the focal point of the unusually laid-out performance space designed by János Kottár, like an old and familiar piece of furniture. Koncz resorts to no spectacular outbursts; throughout, he remains the tragedy’s wise and distinctive observer, and is thus able to become not merely one of the characters in the drama but also the figure who encapsulates it,” read an early appraisal of his acting in Film, Színház, Muzsika. [5]
After leaving the College, his distinctive physique and acting style became recognisable almost immediately. The raw force he had brought with him from Mezőkeresztes did not fit seamlessly into the conventions of Budapest theatre at the time. His speech, bearing and gestures – a mixture of rural toughness and urban swagger – distinguished him from his contemporaries. Yet he still had to learn to control his irrepressible physical energy and powerful stage presence.
The two provincial seasons following his graduation – in Miskolc and Kecskemét – therefore became not an obligatory detour but a training ground for his craft. It was here that he learned that talent alone was insufficient without stamina, discipline and the daily routine of performing on stage. In Miskolc, he was cast as Iago in Shakespeare’s Othello, while in Kecskemét his roles included Zoltán, the disillusioned neurosurgeon in Imre Sarkadi’s final play, Elveszett paradicsom (Paradise Lost). These roles provided an excellent opportunity for him to reveal precisely constructed inner processes beneath his powerful physical presence.
These assignments prepared the ground for the first major stage success of his career. In 1965, István Kazán directed Jean Anouilh’s Becket, or the Honour of God at the József Attila Theatre. Koncz had to contend not only with the role of King Henry but also with the sense of inferiority common to actors at the beginning of their careers: he had to hold his own alongside Iván Darvas. Yet the character proved surprisingly close to him. “He, too, is a man of extremes. One moment he loves, the next he hates, the third he strikes, then he caresses – in short, taken as a whole, he is rather like me,” Koncz later explained when reflecting on the reasons for his success. [6]
In his portrayal of Iago, Pál Geszti had still regarded Koncz’s rapid-fire delivery and accelerated movement as obstacles to his ability to inhabit “momentary pauses and silences”. [7] As Anouilh’s king, however, Geszti singled out precisely the actor’s driving pace, flawless diction and “cat-like agility”. [8] With these qualities, Koncz became an equal partner to Iván Darvas. The critical acclaim was no longer directed merely at a promising young actor but at a performer capable of “plunging in a flash from the highest peaks of emotion into the hell of violent passions, only to rise again immediately afterwards”. [9]
Following his brilliant guest appearance in Angyalföld, Koncz was signed by the József Attila Theatre. Between 1965 and 1971, he mostly played the restless young men of the age: adolescents, revolutionaries, intellectuals and working-class youths searching for their place in society. Koncz was instrumental, for example, in the success of the stage adaptation of András Berkesi’s novel Húszévesek (The Twenty-Year-Olds), in which the memories of the protagonist, Miklós Ősze, come to life. “Within moments, he could transform himself from a contemplative adult into an adolescent or a primary-school boy, a hooligan or a young man in love.” [10] Until the theatre staged László Németh’s Nagy család (The Large Family), no one had suspected that Gábor Koncz also possessed a gift for comedy. In his portrayal of Sándor Tóth, an electrician preparing to enter university, Vera Márton recognised an entire social stratum: shy yet strong-willed young people arriving from the countryside with a thirst for knowledge. According to the critic, the character was partly Koncz himself as he had been when he arrived in the capital from Mezőkeresztes. This supporting role revealed to audiences that he was also an excellent comic actor. [11] Another outstanding role from this period was Sándor in Lajos Mesterházi’s play Férfikor (Manhood). He portrayed the hero, who begins as an artist and ultimately fulfils himself as a revolutionary, at three stages of his life and in three different historical situations, “with extraordinary suggestive power, rendering every fork and pitfall along his path with great humanity and individuality”. [12]
Alongside his successes on stage, cinema increasingly offered him more complex challenges. His striking features, the flash of his gaze and his dynamic movement projected powerfully through the camera. Directors variously saw in him a suspicious peasant youth, an adventurer, a lover or a seeker after justice who would not shy away from a fight. The desire for social advancement, a yearning for freedom and a spirit of defiance became common traits of many of his early characters.
During the 1960s, it was above all Tamás Rényi’s films that brought these qualities to the fore: Legenda a vonaton (Stories on a Train, 1962), Mindennap élünk (lit. We Live Every Day, 1963), Déltől hajnalig (lit. From Noon till Dawn, 1964) and Tilos a szerelem (lit. Love Is Forbidden, 1965). Rényi’s working-class characters were not the exemplary heroes of socialist production films but vulnerable, contradictory human beings. Koncz was therefore not required to repeat a single positive type: he was able to explore different permutations of determination and inhibition, outward assertiveness and inner insecurity.
Sikátor (lit. Alleyway, 1967) depicted a tragic love affair unfolding in a suburban milieu; A völgy (lit. The Valley, 1968) was an anti-war parable; Krebsz, az Isten (lit. Krebsz, the God, 1969) satirised a beauty contest in the fictional lakeside town of Balatonszutykos; and Makra (1972) portrayed the failure of an attempt to escape the constraints of working-class existence. [13] In Rényi’s early films, Gábor Koncz alternated between resolute, masculine characters and figures who were excessively insecure and inhibited. While in Tilos a szerelem (lit. Love Is Forbidden, 1965) he played a stammering working-class youth, Alleyway the director entrusted him with a more complex character. As a working-class youth who had drifted from a peasant background into the city, Koncz combined these two extremes. He conveyed the inner insecurity of Vince Bognár beneath an outward appearance that was invariably resolute and self-confident. [14] Writing in Élet és Irodalom, László B. Nagy compared Koncz’s performance to one of Dostoevsky’s tragic heroes. “He embodies a kind of modern-day Myshkin: not the idiot apostle of unsuspecting and helpless goodness, of Christ-like love, but a peasant youth rising out of the common people who, although intelligent enough, remains unable, because of his mentality and deeply ingrained habits, to find his bearings amid the more complex relationships of a new way of life.” [15] It was not only his appearance but also his recurring gestures, the rhythm of his speech and his sudden shifts of emotion that made him increasingly recognisable. A new type of young man emerged: one who asks no one’s permission to act, yet is often uncertain what to do with the freedom he has acquired. This figure did not emerge in a single film; the cumulative experience of Rényi’s films prepared the actor for the succession of folk and historical heroes he would later portray.
One such figure was Marci Kakuk, the vagabond created by Józsi Jenő Tersánszky, a character who seemed almost tailor-made for Koncz’s physique, voice and temperament. The protagonist of Miklós Markos’s television film Kakuk Marci nagy szerencséje (lit. Marci Kakuk’s Great Fortune, 1966) is not a conventional hero but a consummate survivor, navigating the margins of society according to his own moral code. Koncz indulged neither in genial peasant romanticism nor in the portrayal of a harmless rogue. Beneath the character’s light-heartedness, he preserved both Kakuk’s vulnerability and his dangerous edge.
The same authenticity can be seen in the sweeping tableaux of the historical films. Zoltán Várkonyi’s monumental productions – A kőszívű ember fiai (Men and Banners, 1965), Egri csillagok (lit. Stars of Eger, 1968) and later Fekete gyémántok (lit. Black Diamonds, 1977) – brought together many of the leading figures of Hungarian acting. Yet even in smaller roles, Koncz never disappeared into the crowd. In his fleeting scene as a Viennese revolutionary in Men and Banners, a single line was enough for him to convey the tension of the situation. His words seemed steeped in the dust, sweat and struggle of the moment.
The television series Bors (1968–1972) brought Gábor Koncz’s distinctive screen persona to an even wider audience. In this engaging tale of almost fairy-tale-like anti-fascist resistance, it was not only the entire country that adored Oszi, the combative gendarmerie officer: Koncz himself was equally fond of the character. When the producers wanted to “write out” both him and his colleague István Bujtor, who played Dezső, the two actors did everything they could to prevent it. They wrote letters to the production team and sabotaged the filming – in the golden age of Hungarian Television, even this was possible – with the result that the next ten episodes were written specifically around them. For three seasons, audiences could thus enjoy the adventures of Máté Bors and his two perpetually thwarted adversaries, Oszi and Dezső. [16]
When the roles of revolutionaries and positive heroes at the József Attila Theatre became too numerous, with their repetition carrying the risk of increasingly superficial solutions, his former teacher at the College, Zoltán Várkonyi, signed him to the Vígszínház in 1971. [17] He made his debut there in Imre Sarkadi’s Ház a város szélén (lit. House on the Edge of the City). The director, István Horvai, even gave him the writer’s own tie to wear for the role. According to Iván Sándor’s review, he played Péter, the young agronomist, “with raw, vigorous means, yet with tremendous acting discipline”. [18] His performance was supported by such fellow actors as Erzsi Somogyi, Éva Ruttkai, Tibor Bitskey and, not least, Iván Darvas, who had already brought Gábor Koncz good fortune at the József Attila Theatre.
At the world premiere of Tibor Gyurkovics’s Nagyvizit (lit. Grand Rounds), he met the author for the first time, and the encounter developed into a lifelong friendship. In the tragicomedy, he was cast as a washed-up stuntman – yet another swaggering rogue – whom he brought to life with entirely new shades of character. “His boastfulness, irresponsibility and lies about being a stuntman-cum-travelling salesman could easily make him unlikeable. Yet Koncz invests Fazekas with so much playfulness, vitality, vulnerability and hunger for affection that he succeeds in completely winning the audience’s heart,” Vera Márton wrote. [19] Even the leg injury he suffered before the premiere was incorporated into the production: Gyurkovics rewrote the character, who had originally had a broken arm, to give him a broken leg instead.
In Lajos Galambos’s Fegyverletétel (lit. Surrender), he played Imre Kenéz, an officer cadet. The two acts follow two court-martial proceedings, with the protagonist remaining on stage almost continuously for nearly two and a half hours – an enormous test in itself. Yet according to Tamás Koltai, Gábor Koncz’s “internally combustible” Imre Kenéz was exceptional not only as a feat of physical endurance but also as a performance: “His initial pathos gradually burns down into bitter resignation. He is capable of playing out the drama almost motionlessly, in his eyes alone,” Koltai wrote in Népszabadság. [20]
During Várkonyi’s tenure as director, Koncz played Lopakhin in Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard, the womanising engineer in Gorky’s Barbarians, Rudi, the habitual jailbird in Házmestsirató (lit. Lament for a Caretaker), as well as another dozen outstanding roles. Among the greatest successes of his years at the Vígszínház were a rawer-than-usual interpretation of Ferenc Molnár’s Liliom and his portrayal of McMurphy, the humanistic rogue who turns the entire psychiatric hospital upside down in Ken Kesey and Dale Wasserman’s Kakukkfészek (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest). Both productions were directed by Dezső Kapás, and in both cases his casting proved inspired. Gábor Koncz made an ideal Liliom, capable of expressing “the character’s complexity and extremes and, most appealingly of all, even suggesting the possibility that what we are witnessing is an artist being crushed within the straitjacket of paltry opportunities.” [21] His McMurphy, meanwhile, was – according to Tibor Gyurkovics – a more lovable rogue than Jack Nicholson’s: “He would rather water-ski than take morphine. Rather love than hate. Rather play the hero than commit crimes. He touches your heart – you find yourself taking his side.” [22] The film version was released in Hungarian cinemas in 1977, at the same time as the Vígszínház production.
By the late 1970s and early 1980s, the promise of Gábor Koncz’s early career in Hungarian theatre and film had come to full fruition. His career was no longer centred on a single character type. In Zoltán Fábri’s Magyarok (Hungarians, 1978) and Fábián Bálint találkozása Istennel (Bálint Fábián Meets God, 1979), as well as Miklós Jancsó’s Magyar rapszódia (Hungarian Rhapsody, 1979) and Allegro Barbaro (1979), he portrayed men hemmed in by history and forced to make moral choices. Directors no longer saw him simply as the hot-headed rogue, but as a man reflecting the contradictions of Hungarian history and society.
“Fortunately, I can play anything, with the same face and virtually without make-up. In Géza Páskándi’s play Tornyot választok (lit. I Choose a Tower), I was a legless beggar; in Miklós Hubay’s A párkák (lit. The Fates), a priest; and in the Sándor Rideg television film Daruszegi vasárnap (lit. Sunday in Daruszeg), a council chairman. My face and physique are such that I can be a typical peasant one moment, a characteristic worker the next, then a champion of justice, and at other times a black-hearted intriguer, all without any major ‘twisting of myself’. There are two things I truly love: winning and dying.” [23] The statement not only reveals one of the busiest actors of the 1970s, but also precisely defines the two extremes of his career: the triumphant man of action and the hero who achieves greatness through his downfall.
He knew his own strengths precisely, and so whenever he was able to choose his own material, he generally turned towards folk heroes and the narrative tradition. Toldi was particularly close to him because he recognised his own qualities as an actor in the physical strength and impetuous temperament of Arany’s hero. Reviewing the solo performance, László Ablonczy emphasised that Koncz neither recited the work nor solemnly “thundered” it, but simply told the story: “the story of Miklós Toldi comes to life in its entirety with simple naturalness”. [24]
After Várkonyi’s death, his career continued at the Madách Theatre, which he joined in 1984. [25] Ottó Ádám’s invitation reunited him with the other formative teacher of his college years. At Madách, Gábor Koncz entered an environment in which the construction of a role, intellectual discipline and psychological precision assumed particular importance. By then, an established actor stood on the stage, who was expected to be capable of transcending even his own legend.
According to Katalin Szűcs, in Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, Koncz abandoned the swagger that had previously sometimes hardened into mannerism and gave a profoundly moving portrayal of the stages through which John Proctor becomes a hero. [26] In András Sütő’s Az ugató madár (lit. The Barking Bird) and Egy lócsiszár virágvasárnapja (lit. A Horse Dealer’s Palm Sunday), he once again played fiery, forceful characters. In Gyula Háy’s Mohács, he played Archbishop Tomori; in Brecht’s A The Good Person of Szechwan, Wang, the water seller; and in Rostand’s L’Aiglon, Flambeau. In Imre Tárkányi’s later retrospective of his career, what united these characters of widely differing social positions and moral dispositions was precisely their direct, “flesh-and-blood” presence. [27]
Hungarian classics likewise provided him with important roles. In 1982, Sándor G. Szőnyi directed József Katona’s Bánk bán in Kecskemét. Koncz’s performance in the title role broke with the traditional image of the combative great lord: he was “more restrained, more uncertain, more hesitant than his predecessors”. [28] In 1987, Szőnyi also adapted Katona’s drama for television, with Koncz now playing Tiborc. He was also given leading roles in two works by Imre Madách. Az ember tragédiája (The Tragedy of Man) was staged by Ricard Salvat at the National Theatre in 1994. According to Péter Molnár Gál, Koncz’s Lucifer was neither an “operatic devil” nor an abstract spirit of negation, but a mischievous, mocking figure who remained critically detached, portrayed “with disciplined playfulness”. [29] In the Evangélium Theatre’s production of Moses, meanwhile, he played the title role. According to Béla Csongrády, at the culmination of the performance “we believe equally in Moses as a human being and in his superhuman stature”. [30]
Várkonyi and Ádám represented two different working methods in Koncz’s career. Várkonyi taught him how to orchestrate dramatic impact, rhythm and large-scale theatrical form; Ádám approached a role through its inner construction and intellectual discipline. His popularity in film did not diminish his stature on stage, because the theatre repeatedly forced him to take on entirely different challenges. Liliom, Bánk bán, Iago, Lopakhin, McMurphy, John Proctor and Lucifer were not variations on the same character type, but figures inhabiting widely divergent human and moral situations. Koncz’s strength as an actor lay precisely in his ability always to reveal some inner fracture beneath his raw physical presence: the possibility of failure in the hero, loneliness in the swaggering rogue, uncertainty in the strong man.
From the 1990s onwards, Gábor Koncz’s career took another turn. After years as a company member, freelancing offered greater freedom of movement but also greater insecurity. The transformation of the Hungarian theatrical system, the slowdown in film production and the changing role of television all created an environment in which a film star from an earlier era had to reposition himself. Yet Koncz did not disappear. He continued to act and direct, made guest appearances, worked as a dubbing actor and took roles in television series, while his career gradually developed into a rich and substantial body of work.
In his directorial debut, Marcel Achard’s La Demoiselle de petite vertu, he created a deliberately theatrical style of performance “by tempering the rough edges of the crime-story elements with irony”. [31] The successful run continued three years later at the Madách Theatre, where Gábor Koncz took over the role of the examining magistrate. Andrew Bergman’s Social Security became something of a public celebration in both Székesfehérvár and Tatabánya, since the names of Klári Tolnay and Gyula Benkő virtually guaranteed success. Yet while the director “lets the actors breathe and leaves much to them”, he also “carefully designs the setting against which the action unfolds”. [32] His memorable productions included Dario Fo’s The Open Couple, in which he performed comedy alongside Ila Schütz, as well as the stage adaptation of John Steinbeck’s classic East of Eden, which he directed at the Budaörs Játékszín. One of the plays most frequently staged during the 2000s was Grand Rounds. Koncz not only played but also directed the characters associated with the former Vígszínház success – Fazekas, the Chief Physician and Badari – in productions at venues including the Madách Theatre, the Újszínház and the Veszprém Petőfi Theatre.
His solo performances deserve a chapter of their own. He gave his first in 1968 at the literary club theatre of the Karl Marx University of Economics, choosing Albert Maltz’s short story Országúton (Man On the Road) as its motto. [33] He performed works by Hungarian and international classics as well as representatives of contemporary literature and poetry. His repertoire included János Arany, Endre Ady, Mihály Váci, István Simon, László Benjámin, András Mezei and Jean Cocteau. As the years passed – evoking the stations of a life rushing by – Dino Buzzati’s short story Gyorsvonat (Direttissimo) gave its title to his solo programme, which remained in his repertoire for more than fifty years.
Koncz left the Madách Theatre in 1992 and spent the next two decades freelancing throughout the country. Among the venues at which he performed were the Budaörs Játékszín, the Karinthy Theatre, the Centrál Theatre, the Turay Ida Theatre, the Sopron Petőfi Theatre and the Veszprém Petőfi Theatre, as well as with Béla Éless’s company and the Körúti Theatre. In 2012, he joined the Újszínház under the directorship of György Dörner, where audiences saw him in almost every genre, from Hungarian historical drama – Magda Szabó’s Az a szép, fényes nap (That Beautiful Radiant Sun) – to contemporary comedy – Tamás Török’s Krémes keringő (lit. Cream Waltz). In 2025, the Újszínház elected him a lifetime member.
The honours bestowed on him over the course of his career – from the Mari Jászai Award and the Kossuth Prize to the Hungarian Film Academy’s Lifetime Achievement Award and, ultimately, the Kossuth Grand Prize – attest to the place Koncz has secured in the memories of several generations. He never had to choose between film and theatre, adventure and classical drama, swagger and tragedy. He was equally at home in all of them, because behind each he sought the same thing: the human being who wants to live, to love and to triumph, yet ultimately comes up against his own limitations. To some he is Marci Kakuk, to others Oszi or the Hungarian voice of Kojak; still others remember him as Bálint Fábián, Liliom, McMurphy or Lucifer. Few actors can claim to live on simultaneously in so many different forms of collective memory.
It was this constant movement between genres that made Gábor Koncz’s career exceptional. He acted throughout the great decades of Hungarian filmmaking, was present during the golden age of television and worked with some of the country’s most important theatre companies. Throughout it all, he retained that distinctive, difficult-to-tame individuality that had set him apart from his fellow applicants at his college entrance examination. The “Matyó maverick” became a nationally known actor and, eventually, a grand old man looking back on a lifetime’s work. Yet one thing never changed: the inner restlessness that vibrates through every one of his performances.
He did not stroll through his career: he galloped. At times the pace proved too fast, and his early range of roles also threatened to harden into mannerisms, but over time that momentum was increasingly counterbalanced by greater precision and acting discipline. Gábor Koncz thus left behind not only a long succession of roles, but also one of the characteristic Hungarian male types of the second half of the twentieth century: the self-willed, freedom-seeking hero who conceals his vulnerability behind a hard exterior.
Bibliography
[1] Borbély, László: Koncz Gábor – Kaszkadőr nélkül (Gábor Koncz – Without a Stunt Double). Budapest: Koncz Kulturális Kft., 2007, p. 31.
[2] [N.N.]: Kiosztották a Magyar Filmkritikusok Díjait (Hungarian Film Critics’ Awards Presented). Filmvilág, 1 March 1964, no. 5, p. 19.
[3] MTI: Tizenkét új magyar játékfilm a Hunniában és a Budapest Stúdióban (Twelve New Hungarian Feature Films at Hunnia and the Budapest Studio). Pest Megyei Hírlap, 9 September 1962, no. 211, p. 6.
[4] An interesting detail of film history is that the designated director, Pál Zolnay, was so insistent on casting Gábor Koncz that when he was unable to secure him for the production, he chose to withdraw from the project instead; the film was ultimately never made.
[5] N. J. [Nagy, Judit]: Kispolgárok. Vizsgaelőadás az Ódry Színpadon (The Petty Bourgeois. Graduation Production at the Ódry Stage). Film, Színház, Muzsika, 16 November 1962, no. 46, p. 30.
[6] Gyenes, András: Boldog és elégedetlen… (Happy and Dissatisfied…). Képes Újság, 17 February 1973, no. 7, p. 14.
[7] Geszti, Pál: A Shakespeare-év jegyében. Miskolc (In the Spirit of the Shakespeare Year. Miskolc). Film, Színház, Muzsika, 22 May 1965, no. 21, p. 13.
[8] Geszti, Pál: Anouilh drámája a József Attila Színházban. Becket, avagy az Isten becsülete (Anouilh’s Drama at the József Attila Theatre. Becket, or the Honour of God). Film, Színház, Muzsika, 26 February 1965, no. 9, pp. 8–9.
[9] Sándor, Iván: Becket, avagy az isten becsülete. Anouilh drámája a József Attila Színházban (Becket, or the Honour of God. Anouilh’s Drama at the József Attila Theatre). Népszabadság, 4 March 1965, no. 53, p. 8.
[10] Gábor, István: Húszévesek. Berkesi András drámája a József Attila Színházban (The Twenty-Year-Olds. András Berkesi’s Drama at the József Attila Theatre). Magyar Nemzet, 16 December 1965, no. 296, p. 4.
[11] Márton, Vera: Arcok és maszkok. Az első évtized. Vázlat Koncz Gáborról (Faces and Masks. The First Decade. A Sketch of Gábor Koncz). Színház, 1 September 1972, no. 9, pp. 19–21.
[12] Márton, Vera: Arcok és maszkok. Az első évtized. Vázlat Koncz Gáborról (Faces and Masks. The First Decade. A Sketch of Gábor Koncz). Színház, 1 September 1972, no. 9, pp. 19–21.
[13] Cserhalmi, György: K.O. – 90 éves lenne Rényi Tamás (K.O. – Tamás Rényi Would Be 90). Origo, 30 May 2019.
[14] Borbély, László: Koncz Gábor – Kaszkadőr nélkül (Gábor Koncz – Without a Stunt Double). Budapest: Koncz Kulturális Kft., 2007, p. 97.
[15] B. Nagy, László: Sikátor (Alleyway). Élet és Irodalom, 14 January 1966, no. 2, p. 9.
[16] Borbély, László: Koncz Gábor – Kaszkadőr nélkül (Gábor Koncz – Without a Stunt Double). Budapest: Koncz Kulturális Kft., 2007, pp. 100–101.
[17] [N.N.]: Új színpadon. Koncz Gábor (On a New Stage. Gábor Koncz). Film, Színház, Muzsika, 17 July 1971, no. 29, p. 18.
[18] Sándor, Iván: Vallomások cseréptöredéken. Csak tréfa – Ház a város mellett (Confessions on a Pottery Fragment. Just a Joke – House beside the City). Film, Színház, Muzsika, 30 October 1971, no. 44, pp. 4–5.
[19] Márton, Vera: Arcok és maszkok. Az első évtized. Vázlat Koncz Gáborról (Faces and Masks. The First Decade. A Sketch of Gábor Koncz). Színház, 1 September 1972, no. 9, pp. 19–21.
[20] Koltai, Tamás: Fegyverletétel. Galambos Lajos drámája a Vígszínházban (Surrender. Lajos Galambos’s Drama at the Vígszínház). Népszabadság, 26 February 1972, no. 48, p. 7.
[21] Illés, Jenő: Molnár Ferenc műve a Vígszínházban. Liliom (Ferenc Molnár’s Play at the Vígszínház. Liliom). Film, Színház, Muzsika, 25 November 1972, no. 48, pp. 6–7.
[22] Gyurkovics, Tibor: A szabadság regénye. Regény–dráma–film–elmegyógyászat (The Novel of Freedom. Novel–Drama–Film–Psychiatry). Új Írás, 1 March 1978, no. 3, pp. 89–96.
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