Marek Probosz was born on 24th March 1959 in Żory. Before commencing his studies at the Leon Schiller National Higher School of Film, Television and Theatre (PWSFiTV) in Łódź he had been a TV actor, performing in TV series and cinema adaptations of plays. During his studies he was an activist of the Independent Students’ Association and he was a co-organizer of free professorial elections. He was also known in the Czechoslovakia and East Germany where he starred in plays and films.
In 1987, he left for Hollywood and participation in a three-week symposium proved to be a life-changing experience for him.
In the US Marek Probosz worked as an actor and directed such films, as “The Cruel Story” and “Why Am I?” based on his script. He wrote: “Eldorado” and “Zadzwoń, jak cię zabiją” (Call Me When They’ll Kill You). He has been an acting teacher at the UCLA and a member of the American Film Institute.
Interview by Edi Pyrek in 2011 in Los Angeles.
The reason for my emigration was only one: freedom. My career in Poland and Eastern Europe was going great. I performed in Poland, in Czechoslovakia, in Eastern Germany. Finally, I got a role in a film co-produced with East Germany. I went to Hamburg to the set and there I met the artistic director of American Cinema Tech. It’s an organization that arranges festivals all over the world, gathers the best filmmakers and is interested in the world-class cinema. And Garry [inaudible], the artistic director of the American Cinema Tech, met with me in Hamburg and recognized me. It was a great surprise for me. He said that he had seen my films awarded in Cannes, San Sebastian, Karlovy Vary and that he is organizing a three-week symposium in Hollywood and he wants to invite me to it. He asked me if I can come in 1987 from Poland. It was like a dream, a fairy-tale for me, because that was absolutely impossible but I said yes because I’d been to West Germany, I was behind the Berlin Wall, and he said: “OK, I’m inviting you for three weeks. We cover the cost of the trip, boarding, hotel, even medical insurance.” In Hamburg I was denied visa three times. The consul, and I hadn’t known that, denied me visa three times and after each rejection I spoke to Garry Assert [?] who said; “It’s impossible, listen, it’s an official invitation. They have to let you in. This is our institution that has to allow you to enter because we’ve invited you. I’ll talk to them and I’ll call you”. I went there once, twice, three times and each time they denied granting me a visa. The fourth time I said: “Garry, I have to go back to Warsaw. I have a plane to catch”. Garry [inaudible] replied: “Listen, I talked with them one more time. This time I spoke with the consul so don’t talk with anyone else, just find the consul and talk with him about your visa”. I did that. When I saw the face that I had already known I said: “OK, I won’t be talking to you anymore. I want to talk to the consul”. The man bridled a bit and said: “I am the consul. You have been talking to me all the time”. He said: “You’re a young man, you are an actor and you have to be a good actor if Hollywood wants to invite you for three weeks and pay all your expenses. I know that you won’t be coming back to Poland and this is why I cannot issue a visa for you”. So I said: “Listen, sir, I am… I have commitments for three years. I’m an actor who mostly plays parts and I have to go back to Poland so please allow me to enter”. “No, no, I don’t believe you. But let’s make an experiment. I’ll invite you to my office. You’ll cross this gate here. Miss Jane, please let him pass. You’ll have a coffee at my office and, while drinking coffee, if you are a good actor and you’ll be able to convince me that you’ll come back to Poland, I give you a visa. I’ll glue it with my own tongue, my own spit”. Back then visas were as large as a passport, like big postcards. And he says: “I’ll sign a three-week visa to Hollywood for you with my own gold Parker pen but you have to make an effort”. And so he invited me and I had no idea what I’d been telling him at the time but the fact is that when we finished drinking coffee he stuck out his big tongue, and glued this visa for me. And wrote with his Parker pen: “Three weeks in Hollywood only”. He underlined it. Three weeks in Hollywood only. And I must say that was a significant moment but back then I didn’t even realize it. This moment has changed all my life, both in artistic and professional sense.
In September 1987 I landed here, in Los Angeles. I was picked up at the airport by a limo. Somebody put sunglasses on my face saying that the sun in Los Angeles is so strong that it can damage my eyes so I had to wear sunglasses before leaving the airport. I was taken to Paramount Studios, then to Roosvelt Hotel where they had the first Oscar ceremony. It was a shock to me. It was a shock to be there when there were no computers nor Skype nor mobiles. One even couldn’t call Poland because we had been observed behind the iron curtain just like dogs. Every phone call was listened to, interrupted and you could go to prison if you were in Poland or one’s interlocutor could be taken to prison. Thus, you had to weigh one’s words and sometimes it took as long as three weeks to make a connection with Poland. It means that you had to order a call and wait one, two or even three weeks. You just can’t wait by the phone for three weeks. Sometimes you had to go out to run some errands, go to work, come back and there was this phone call so you couldn’t answer the phone. Sometimes it took months before you could contact someone. And when you finally called home you could only hear: “Son!”. Mother in tears, shouting to the phone and you shouted back: “Mum!”, all in tears. That’s all you heard. Any other more complex sentence was interrupted by some engines, some submarines, periscopes, I don’t know, bombs maybe. There was nothing more you could hear. It was a tragedy. You sent a letter but it wouldn’t get to the addressee.
However, I’m not hiding the fact that when we were leaving Poland that was behind this Berlin Wall we had this Polish mindset. It was very East-European. We had been cut off from the world yet we had tried to reach it somehow in the underground. And it took me a while to free myself from this burden of Poland. Poland is very important but it’s only important if a man can free themselves from it, if Poland becomes a choice. It’s instilled in your genome but you have to know how to free yourself from it so that you can speak not only to a Pole or to a European but to speak to the whole world.
Unfortunately, what I see today all over the world is the fact that the world is becoming unified. Whenever we roam about the world we can see that there is civilization, corporations and we even out all those nooks, diversities, splits, varieties so that all looks the same. It’s not the truth, though. We are not the same. We shouldn’t be the same. And the fact that we are Poles in emigration, this is what makes us different. It distinguishes us, it does not put us at a disadvantage, it’s not derogatory but it adds value to us. Of course, only when we are doing something that makes sense. If we make the same mistakes, if we repeat the same flaws, if we cannot free ourselves from some national vices and we only concentrate on our unique values, then it all makes sense and distinguishes us in the world. Our origin is our strength.
Which place in the world is my little homeland? I must admit that my little homeland is some deck that is constantly moving. It’s the horizon that is constantly moving. It’s just like film that is moving under me all the time. I’m constantly travelling. And it seems to me that until I’m travelling, I’m alive. Until I seek something, I am alive. When I stop, maybe someone or something… or my body will stop and it would stop me because I’m constantly seeking and the fact that fascinates me the most is that I pursue different professions. There are so many roles. For instance, I was Odysseus in a grad play titled “Philoctetes” staged in the biggest theatre in Los Angeles, Getty Villa. I performed with Henry Goodman, the best British dramatic actor. To play Odysseus with Henry Goodman is like travelling to Mars. It was really amazing to be there on the stage with him every evening, with all tickets sold out, of course. I have a lot of adventures all the time but the most important thing in life is freedom, love. I have a family, I have children and wife, I am a professor at UCLA. My wife has recently said to me: “It’s not important whether you are a great director, actor, writer or lecturer. The most important is that you are a good man. This is the biggest achievement in life there is”. It seems to me that wherever we are in our lives, wherever our homeland is, we shouldn’t forget to be who we are. We must preserve this eternal freedom because walls do not create prison but we put those bars on ourselves and we create prisons ourselves. The task before an artist is to stay true to oneself, to be patient. Courage, determination, you cannot be successful without those features. My grandfather, who had been taken to the Dachau concentration camp in 1939 at the age of 42, managed to write a message on a scrap of paper in the Beskidy mountains, the home of my family. His wife wasn’t home, there were only nine children who were looking frightened at the SS officers taking my grandfather away. On this scrap of paper my grandfather wrote to his friend: “From the bottom of my heart I wish you fortitude so that you can persist day and night. Even if you had to burn your mundane body into dust, you have to save your spirit”.
