Ildikó Enyedi began her career as a concept and media artist as part of the art group Indigo and the Balázs Béla Studio. Her first film, “My Twentieth Century,” won the Cannes Camera d’Or in 1989. Enyedi’s previous work includes “Tamas and Juli,” “Simon Magus,” and the series “Terápia,” the Hungarian version of HBO’s “In Treatment.” Also an educator and lecturer, Enyedi has taught at the University of Film and Theatrical Arts in Budapest and lectured at European master classes in Switzerland and Poland.

“On Body and Soul” will premiere at the 2017 Berlin International Film Festival on February 10.

W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.

IE: The characters in the film are having similar recurring dreams. Endre’s and Maria’s common world of dreams is airy, natural, and bursting with free-flowing emotions. Their world is simple and transparent, but is full of meaning. It is a place where we can recognize ourselves.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

IE: I was developing an especially complicated and expensive project which was not going very well, and took a walk. It was early spring, the buds were not open yet but I could feel they were ready to explode, to open up to the sun and the wind. My heart wanted to explode as well and I thought about a poem I love:

“The heart, a sputtering flame to light,
the heart, in mighty clouds of snow,
and yet inside, while flakes sear in their flight,
like endless flames of a burning city glow.”

I thought, “This is I want to make a film about!” This feeling, and nothing else. By early evening I had the two main characters, as complete and alive as if I knew them for ages. I put them in an unusual situation, which popped in my mind, just so: “What if they realized they dream the same dream?” Then I sat back and watched them act and react. And I wrote down what I saw.

W&H: What do you want people to think about when they are leaving the theater?

IE: The film shows two very unique and personal journeys. Two sorts of emotional and sensual education. But it offers a personal journey for the spectator as well. It intends to leave space for everyone’s own opening up. I hope those who accepted the ride and went through the roller coaster of our heroes come out of the cinema being in a closer, more direct relationship with themselves.

W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?

IE: Finding the real and only Maria. It took me five months and many meetings with amazing, talented actresses where I was in the embarrassing position of saying no without any logical reason, just following my guts.

W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.

IE: All my previous films were made through European co-productions. This one is an exception. It was funded [solely] by the Hungarian National Film Fund.

W&H: What does it mean for you to have your film play at Berlin?

IE: This screening on February 10 at the Berlinale Palast is the light at the end of an awfully long tunnel. For me, it is not just a festival, albeit one of the most prestigious. It means that I exist again as a filmmaker. And — as I never ever stopped being a filmmaker even during the years of not actually making a feature film — it means I am fully alive again.

W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?

IE: A producer told me once: “Even if you get the most attractive offer, you should have the strength to walk away from it if the people involved are not ok. Your guts will tell you.”

Sincerely, I don’t remember any bad advice. It is probably because if I do something stupid following any advice, the moment I decide, it becomes my own decision. [The advice] I don’t follow I forget even more quickly. The good advice stays with me for a long time. I always remember with crisp details that moment of relief or clarity in a fuzzy or desperate situation.

W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?

IE: For those who are preparing for their first film: There are so many challenges in filmmaking apart from being a woman, which is just one of the challenges. Coming from Eastern Europe, I know [this challenge] very well. There are a lots of bitter, humiliating, derogatory moments before your project gets financed.

But, as soon as you are with your crew, with your team, believe me, they are not stupid: They want a real leader, whatever his or her sex is. They want to know, first of all, if the hard work they will put in your project is worthwhile. They want to know if you know what you want and if you are sincere enough to tell them when you need time to figure it out. They will test you and if you pass the test they will work for you like crazy, with touching loyalty. Just don’t be hurt by the test! Take it as a game, enjoy it — and enjoy winning it.

W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.

IE: I have many, but if I must choose just one, it would be a film from Agnès Varda, “Sans Toit Ni Loi” (“Vagabond”) from 1985. It is at the same time incredibly free and exact as a diamond. It has a majestic dramatic structure hidden in a nearly documentary-like freshness and intimacy. There is a sober ecstasy, a huge, contained inner energy in the slow, ballade-like storytelling.

The film presents a female main hero, played by the amazing Sandrine Bonnaire. She’s so irregular, so unconventional and the same time so true and alive — I’ve never seen in cinema before. But I have a great respect for the whole oeuvre of Varda.

W&H: Have you seen opportunities for women filmmakers increase over the last year due to the increased attention paid to the issue? If someone asked you what you thought needed to be done to get women more opportunities to direct, what would be your answer?

IE: When I was in film school I was the only girl in the class and the previous three classes had no girl students at all. It was openly said that we girls were a bad influence on the boys, disturbing them while they focused on their work. My classmates were nice to me and treated me with respect. I never heard any indecent or hurtful comments — and I suppose there were none behind my back, either. I was the weirdo — with the freedom of a weirdo. It was not so bad.

Some years ago I started to teach at the University of Film and Theatrical Art in Budapest, at my old school. The furniture, even the shabby elevator, were the same — but there were many more girls in the building. What shocked me was the openly sexist remarks — the arrogant mansplaining, the condescending tone towards female students — even in my presence. It came often from intelligent and sensible students whom I liked and continue to like and help in their career. I was stunned, I was prepared for the inverse.

I thought my teachers were the last generation who had these views. Then I understood. I was once an exception, not threatening the status quo with my presence. These girls are newcomers to a traditionally male territory and their presence hit the critical mass — so, even if it is on a very instinctive, unconscious level, there is open war. A war what we, men and women, can only win together with common working experience, patience, and a sense of humor.