We are delighted and proud to announce that Kristina Lorent Goztola has been awarded the prestigious French Red Movie Awards – Best Actress prize for her outstanding performance in Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres.
This recognition not only highlights Kristina’s remarkable artistic achievement, but also the profound emotional and professional depth she brought to her character. The award reflects the unanimous appreciation of the international jury and marks an important milestone in the international journey of our film.
We are pleased to share that Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres has been awarded the Red Movie Awards “Best Cinematography” prize, recognising the artistic strength and uniqueness of the film’s visual language.
The cinematography plays a central role in shaping the film’s meditative and psychological depth, and this award reinforces the power of that artistic vision.
A heartfelt thank you to the creative team, whose exceptional craftsmanship and artistic sensitivity brought the film’s visual universe to life.
Hungarian–French actress Kristina Lorent Goztola has received significant professional recognition at the Hague International Film Festival, where her performance played a key role in drawing both audience and jury attention to the film in which she starred. She won one of the festival’s most prestigious awards, the Alternative / Mystery of Souls / Experimental Award.
The work, directed by Peter Korday, holds a special place in today’s international film landscape, offering a bold and profound contribution to the genre of meditative and psychological drama.
Presentation of the Film: Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres
The French-language film, featured in the competition section, is Peter Korday’s first feature-length work and has received exceptionally positive feedback. Its central themes revolve around human consciousness, self-discovery, and crossing personal boundaries.
In the leading role, Kristina Lorent Goztola portrays a woman suspended between life and death after an accident. The film offers not only artistic sophistication but also a deeply symbolic and meditative journey for viewers.
The director aimed to create a work that balances intimacy with a monumental visual world. The film’s tone and imagery carry strong echoes of Tarkovsky, yet it achieves uniqueness through its own poetic and philosophical depth. This complex visual and soundscape creates a distinctive atmosphere characteristic of works that explore psychological and spiritual questions.
Success and Professional Recognition
Following its success in The Hague, the film also made a strong impression at the Red Movie Awards in France, where it won two categories: Best Actress and Best Cinematography, further elevating its international standing.
Critics highlight the film’s profound psychological and meditative content, as well as its nuanced portrayal of the complexity of the human inner world—one of its greatest strengths. Kristina Lorent Goztola’s performance is especially noteworthy; her authentic and powerful character portrayal plays a significant role in the film’s success.
Background and Impact of the Film
The work directed by Peter Korday exemplifies many qualities that highlight the effectiveness of French–Hungarian collaboration. The film represents contemporary artistic trends through its distinctive tone and visual style, while exploring metaphysical questions. It serves as a spiritual journey delving into self-reflection and the depths of human consciousness.
Beyond the awards, the film has contributed to the growing trend in contemporary cinema that foregrounds the exploration of inner worlds and meditative themes. The work of both the actress and the director may have a lasting impact on the development of international cinema, especially in the realm of psychological drama.
Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres had its world premiere at the International Film Festival The Hague, where the film received the award in the Alternative Mysteries of Souls / Experimental category.
The award was presented by Dr. Avnish Rajvanshi, the festival director, and Andrew van Esch, the representative of the Hague Council responsible for cultural programs.
The screening was followed by an open Q&A session, during which the audience engaged with the film’s visual language and thematic focus, marking the first public dialogue surrounding the work. At the closing block of the festival, the cultural representative of the city highlighted that the evening brought together two different cinematic cultures, as the program concluded with a French film and a Dutch film presented side by side.
We are grateful for the thoughtful, warm, and attentive environment that framed the film’s first encounter with the public.
“For Hungarian cinema, Goztola Lorent Kristina’s U.S. recognition symbolizes more than individual success. It reflects how Hungarian talent continues to resonate across borders.” – Budapest Reporter
Los Angeles and New York film portals celebrate the Hungarian actress-producer whose career embodies the balance between commercial storytelling and auteur vision.
A rare moment of transatlantic recognition has put Goztola Lorent Kristina in the international spotlight. The Hungarian-born actress and producer, who built her career across the United States, the United Kingdom, and France, has recently been profiled in-depth by two major American film outlets—IndieWrap and Macoproject. For any European artist, especially one with Central European roots, this level of attention from the U.S. industry press is remarkable. For Goztola, it feels like both a professional homecoming and a validation of years spent navigating between continents and cinematic cultures.
“It feels as if I’ve come full circle,” she told IndieWrap. “America was the beginning for me—and now I’m here again in the spotlight, but with very different experiences and inner strength.”
That sense of circular motion defines Goztola’s career. After training at the New York Film Academy in Los Angeles, she landed her first screen roles in American television productions before gradually expanding her work into Europe. Today, she divides her creative life between Hollywood and France, maintaining what she calls an “essential equilibrium” between mainstream storytelling and arthouse expression.
Between Two Cinematic Traditions
The U.S. interviews delved into Goztola’s unique position at the crossroads of two powerful cinematic traditions. While her American education gave her a grounding in craft and professionalism, her years working in French auteur cinema have deepened her sensitivity to nuance, mood, and emotional detail.
“In recent years, I’ve worked intensely within the French cinéma d’auteur tradition—and that’s where I feel most at home artistically,” she explained. “These films require openness and sensitivity from both the actor and the audience. The mainstream and the arthouse are two different worlds, but together they form the balance where I truly belong.”
Her ability to move between these worlds mirrors a broader trend in global filmmaking: the erosion of borders between art cinema and international co-productions. Goztola’s career path—Los Angeles to London to Paris—illustrates how transnational cinema is increasingly driven by personal storytelling and the creative agency of multilingual artists.
A Legacy of Hungarian Filmmakers in Hollywood
Goztola’s story also revives a proud, if sometimes overlooked, chapter in film history. The early founders of the Hollywood studio system—Adolph Zukor, William Fox, and Michael Curtiz (Kertész Mihály)—were all Hungarian-born. They carried with them the ambition and visual flair that helped shape the American film industry itself.
“I look at that rich Hungarian cinematic legacy with great respect,” Goztola said. “It adds something unique to my own artistic perspective.”
Her acknowledgment of that lineage places her within a continuum of Hungarian filmmakers and actors who have left a mark on world cinema—from Béla Tarr and István Szabó to Rév Marcell, the cinematographer behind Euphoria and Joker: Folie à Deux.
Depth and Discipline
In both interviews, Goztola discussed her training, her artistic discipline, and the fine line between external performance and internal truth. Whether she is on a blockbuster set or in a minimalist European production, her craft remains grounded in the same principles she learned from her American mentors.
“Whether I’m in a Hollywood production or a French arthouse film, I rely on the same acting tools I was taught by my teachers,” she said. “In the arthouse world, subtle gestures and internal vibrations are simply emphasized more strongly.”
Her latest French feature has already been registered by the CNC (Centre national du cinéma et de l’image animée)—a formal recognition by the French National Film Center that marks a project’s professional standing in the industry. For Goztola, that recognition carries deep meaning: “As both an actress and a producer, artistic credibility is what matters most to me,” she emphasized.
Next Projects: Between Drama and Comedy
Goztola hinted that she and Hungarian director Korday Péter have completed two new screenplays—projects that reflect her growing role as a creative producer and storyteller.
“I can’t reveal much yet,” she teased, “but one is a lyrical drama, and the other a comedy with vaudeville elements. Both are very special and aimed at an international audience.”
This new phase—developing content as well as performing—positions her among the growing ranks of European artists who refuse to be confined by national film industries. It’s a model increasingly visible across streaming and theatrical landscapes: actor-producers who treat their careers as global studios of one.
For Hungarian cinema, Goztola Lorent Kristina’s U.S. recognition symbolizes more than individual success. It reflects how Hungarian talent continues to resonate across borders. From service productions shot in Budapest to Hungarian creatives gaining traction abroad, Hungary has become an active participant in the international conversation about the future of storytelling.
In a time when American industry publications rarely devote space to emerging European voices, Goztola’s dual feature in Los Angeles and New York media marks a meaningful cultural moment. It’s not just a personal milestone—it’s a reminder that Hungarian artists remain deeply woven into the global film tapestry that their predecessors helped build over a century ago.
We are proud to announce that our feature film Flottant légèrement dans les Champs des Sphères (Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres), directed by Peter Korday and starring Kristina Lorent Goztola, has been selected as a finalist and will celebrate its world premiere at the International Film Festival The Hague (The Netherlands) this November.
This unique arthouse drama, filmed in Paris and Budapest, explores the boundaries between life and death through a deeply meditative visual and emotional journey.
The Hague, known worldwide not only as a cultural center but also as a symbol of international dialogue and values, provides an exceptional stage for the world premiere of our production.
We are honored by this recognition and look forward to sharing the film with international audiences.
Albert Einstein wrote in 1955, following the death of a close friend: “The distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.” This quote resonates deeply with the philosophical core of the film.
The story follows Rebecca, a Viennese ceramic artist, on an intimate, spiritual journey across four different timelines.
We spoke to writer and key cast member Kristina Lorent Goztola on her embodiment of the role.
You embody Rebecca with great intimacy and depth. How did you first connect with her, and what drew you to this role?
The story of this film holds a very central place in my career. Although Rebecca’s story is entirely fictional, its writing was born out of a very personal grief — a family tragedy that needed an outlet. When Peter Korday first said he wanted to turn it into a film, to be honest, I was against it. On one hand, the text felt far too personal, too intimate. On the other, I couldn’t imagine how a monodrama-like piece could be translated to the screen without becoming overly sentimental, rather than truthful. But as I began to approach Rebecca as an actress, I realized that while her journey is very female-driven, the core question the film explores is universal. If it resonates deeply with even a single viewer, then it has already fulfilled its purpose. Preparing for Rebecca required deep introspection — I had to dig very far into myself — and I knew this film had to speak in silence. For that reason, I embraced a simplicity-based approach. My wonderful mentor, Jack Waltzer, who worked with legends like Dustin Hoffman, Sharon Stone, and Susan Sarandon, always reminded me: in the most deeply layered scenes, even if the camera shows the full face, the truth of the character must be carried through the eyes.
What was your personal approach in preparing to portray such a layered and emotionally complex character?
If you look from the outside, Rebecca and I could not be more different. I don’t have children, and I would never behave as she does or make the same choices she makes. In a strict sense, Rebecca could even be seen as a negative character — she makes mistake after mistake. And yet, she is deeply human and, in her own way, lovable. That complexity was what fascinated me: human nature is never black and white, but full of contradictions and colors.
My goal was to let the audience feel that life is not about living without mistakes, but about learning, growing, and finding the courage to forgive ourselves.
During the shoot, Peter Korday – with whom I’ve had the privilege of working several times before, and whose directing I truly value — created an intimate, almost family-like atmosphere with a small crew. That environment allowed me to go deeper than usual. While shaping Rebecca, I asked myself a question as a sort of inner exercise: what if this were the last role I could ever play? How would I want to portray it, and what would I want to leave behind with it?
That thought became a compass. I wanted the audience, after the first twenty minutes, not to see Rebecca, not even the actress, but to recognize something of themselves in the story.
Rebecca is a ceramic artist — did you find parallels between her creative process and your own process as an actress?
I believe that every artist — whether a dancer, musician, or painter — instinctively brings something deeply personal into their work. With Rebecca, it was no different. For her, the ceramic figures are projections of her subconscious: her desires, her fears, fragments of her inner life. Each piece she creates is not just an object, but a part of her story, much like a canvas and brush allow a painter to reveal their emotions and thoughts. As artists, we are fortunate — our joys, our sorrows, and even our disappointments can find expression through our craft. In that sense, art becomes a form of psychological therapy, a way of transforming the intangible into something visible and shared.
How did you navigate the physical and emotional demands of the hospital scenes, which feel so immediate and raw?
During filming, we deliberately aimed to break the seemingly romantic sequences with the stark realism of the hospital scenes. For authenticity, the surgical moments were performed by an actual practicing surgeon. That’s why every movement you see on screen is completely genuine. Lying there while a real surgeon simulated life-saving procedures on me — on Rebecca — was both shocking and deeply moving. What struck me as well was how focused and disciplined the crew became during these scenes. Even for them, it was extraordinary, almost unsettling, to witness such realism up close.
Many of your past roles have been in English-language productions, often alongside well-known American names. How does stepping into the French arthouse world feel different for you as an actress?
It was a wonderful experience to work with Jason Clarke and Rosamund Pike and to witness the discipline and focus with which Hollywood stars approach their craft. That energy had a lasting impact on me, and shaped how I approach my work. I had the privilege of playing opposite Jason Clarke as Christine Wiegel in The Man with the Iron Heart, directed by French film director Cédric Jimenez.
2015 was another turning point in my life, when I was invited to the Avignon Theatre Festival to perform in Matei Vișniec’s two-person drama about the Yugoslav war. Out of more than 1,200 productions, our play was honored as the second-best performance of the festival. That was the beginning of my love affair with France and its culture.
While English-language films remain an important part of my work — given my American and British mentors and my desire to stay connected to the mainstream — I feel that the French arthouse world is where I find the deepest artistic fulfillment. It allows me to write, perform, and follow the life of the film itself. This genre allows me to explore the complexity and beauty of the human soul in its most profound form.
Having worked internationally, do you feel your acting style has evolved or adapted depending on the cultural and cinematic environment you’re in?
The greatest confidence in my work comes from the foundation I learned from my American mentors — the Meisner technique and the so-called simplicity of performance.But I deeply value cultural diversity. As actors, we must constantly evolve, just as our personalities do. I travel a lot, and I love observing people in different countries — the way a southern temperament expresses joy is very different from a northern one. Cultures vary, but I truly believe the human soul is universal: our joys and sorrows are shared, no matter where we live. I’ve also noticed how different it is to work with an Italian director compared to a German one. Wherever I go, I bring my own toolkit, but I also adapt and refine myself to the task at hand. At the end of the day, I believe the most important qualities are individuality and authenticity.
You are also credited as a co-producer, though your main focus here was acting. How did being involved behind the scenes influence your performance in front of the camera?
In 2024, together with Peter Korday, I co-founded Gold Wood Pictures in Paris, where I also serve as president. After producing two independent short films, we completed our first feature, Flottant légèrement dans les Champs des Sphères / Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres. We are especially proud that both the company and the film received CNC registration — a true mark of quality in France.
While my producer’s role mainly involves guiding projects at a conceptual level, on set I deliberately step back and focus solely on being an actress. Knowing that the production is in secure and professional hands gave me the freedom to surrender completely to Rebecca’s inner world. At the same time, since founding the company I’ve become far more selective as an actress: I now only join projects that feel fully transparent and professionally grounded. That sense of security behind the camera allows me to go deeper in front of it.
What was the most surprising discovery you made about yourself while bringing Rebecca to life?
As actors, it’s natural that we long for love, recognition, and the approval of the audience. But I can honestly say this was the first role in my life where I didn’t want to please anyone. I wasn’t trying to prove myself or to be liked. What mattered most was that, through Rebecca’s journey, people could reflect on their own stories.
Working with Peter Korday — with whom I’ve collaborated on several projects — was special in this sense. Often during filming, he trusted silence and simply observed me. I could feel how carefully he guided me, sometimes with only the subtlest direction. I deeply appreciate that way of working: when a director knows exactly when to take half a step back and let the actor breathe, and then step forward again to gently guide the performance.
European auteur cinema often asks actors to embrace silence, ambiguity, and subtlety rather than exposition. How did this influence your performance in Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres?
I began my career as a musical theatre actress, singing and dancing in front of 800–1000 people. Naturally, I used large gestures on stage. What captivated me about film was the exact opposite: that in front of the camera, the actor becomes stripped down and vulnerable — and it is precisely this fragility that makes the performance truthful. This is also what draws me to auteur cinema: I believe it seeks to capture the unspoken, even the unspeakable, on screen. It requires deep trust — both from the director in the actor, and from the actor in themselves — to allow silence to carry the weight of a moment. For me, this is where I rely on the so-called simplicity approach. We also felt it was essential that the film have original music, and Peter, as director, gave great attention to ensuring that each frame was matched with a score that truly mirrored its emotional resonance.
What does this story mean to you personally, beyond the character — did it resonate with your own experiences or reflections?
This role demanded a great deal from me, yet it also gave me strength. Rebecca’s story touched my own life in profound ways. Although the film is a meditative drama with psychological layers — one could even call it a film about grief — we wanted its ending to carry a sense of hope. It is a story that speaks to everyone, though not necessarily at the same moment in their lives. Some viewers may only feel its impact years later, when they reach a certain stage in their own journey. But I believe it will resonate with all, because ultimately, it touches something universal.
You’ve spoken about finding your artistic home in Paris. What is it about French cinema that inspires you most?
For me, French cinema embodies both elegance and a touch of romance, yet it also carries a raw realism that dares to reveal life as it truly is. I often feel that French films don’t try to please or conform — instead, they lead, and invite the audience to follow, allowing themselves to be enchanted along the way. They delve deep into the human mind, sometimes tearing out emotions that are painful yet liberating. Nothing portrays love as both romantic and heartbreaking at the same time quite like French cinema. One of my personal favorites is Les Parapluies de Cherbourg by Jacques Demy. How do you balance between the more mainstream projects you’ve done in the past and the deeply artistic path you’re carving now? I don’t see a contradiction between the two paths. In fact, I began my career in the American–Canadian action TV series Painkiller Jane, which was my very first screen role. I also believe that my earlier mainstream work helps me flourish even more fully in the arthouse world.
Even today I continue to receive invitations to mainstream projects, and I value those experiences. Yet I feel that, deep down, the French arthouse cinema holds the greatest space in my heart. It is where I find the most profound opportunities and challenges as an actress to reveal true depth.
What was the collaboration with director Peter Korday like? Did his poetic, meditative style of filmmaking challenge you as an actress in new ways?
Peter’s filmmaking is deeply influenced by his many years as a theatre director, especially in opera and musical theatre. Since I also have a background in music, I often immediately understand what he means without many words. We have been working together for several years now, and I truly enjoy the collaboration. Because he himself was once an actor, he knows very well our so-called fears, and he approaches us with great sensitivity.
I remember during the shooting of our previous short film, the male lead was struggling with how to move his character physically, with his body language. Peter simply played the overture of Verdi’s La Traviata and, smiling, asked him to just start walking when he heard the music. The result was remarkable.
During the filming of Flottant légèrement dans les Champs des Sphères / Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres, I experienced the same delicacy. In one scene, he started the camera without giving me any instruction, just waiting to see what would rise to the surface from deep within me. That trust in silence and in the actor’s inner world is what makes his directing style so unique, and for me, so inspiring.
Without revealing story details, what kind of emotional journey do you hope the audience will experience through Rebecca? What I would love is for the audience, after the first 15–20 minutes, to stop seeing Rebecca — or me as the actress — and instead begin to recognize their own story within the film. Although it is a drama with psychological elements, even a story of grief in some ways, we wanted it to carry a sense of hope by the end. My father, who was a mathematician, and physicist, often spoke with me in his later years about quantum physics and about Einstein’s idea that energy never disappears, it only transforms. This thought deeply resonated with me during the making of the film, and I hope it resonates with the audience as well.
If you had to describe Rebecca in just three words, which ones would you choose — and why?
Albert Einstein wrote in 1955, following the death of a close friend: “The distinction between past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.” This quote resonates deeply with the philosophical core of the film.
The story follows Rebecca, a Viennese ceramic artist, on an intimate, spiritual journey across four different timelines.
We spoke to writer and key cast member Kristina Lorent Goztola on her embodiment of the role.
You embody Rebecca with great intimacy and depth. How did you first connect with her, and what drew you to this role?
The story of this film holds a very central place in my career. Although Rebecca’s story is entirely fictional, its writing was born out of a very personal grief — a family tragedy that needed an outlet. When Peter Korday first said he wanted to turn it into a film, to be honest, I was against it. On one hand, the text felt far too personal, too intimate. On the other, I couldn’t imagine how a monodrama-like piece could be translated to the screen without becoming overly sentimental, rather than truthful. But as I began to approach Rebecca as an actress, I realized that while her journey is very female-driven, the core question the film explores is universal. If it resonates deeply with even a single viewer, then it has already fulfilled its purpose. Preparing for Rebecca required deep introspection — I had to dig very far into myself — and I knew this film had to speak in silence. For that reason, I embraced a simplicity-based approach. My wonderful mentor, Jack Waltzer, who worked with legends like Dustin Hoffman, Sharon Stone, and Susan Sarandon, always reminded me: in the most deeply layered scenes, even if the camera shows the full face, the truth of the character must be carried through the eyes.
What was your personal approach in preparing to portray such a layered and emotionally complex character?
If you look from the outside, Rebecca and I could not be more different. I don’t have children, and I would never behave as she does or make the same choices she makes. In a strict sense, Rebecca could even be seen as a negative character — she makes mistake after mistake. And yet, she is deeply human and, in her own way, lovable. That complexity was what fascinated me: human nature is never black and white, but full of contradictions and colors.
My goal was to let the audience feel that life is not about living without mistakes, but about learning, growing, and finding the courage to forgive ourselves.
During the shoot, Peter Korday – with whom I’ve had the privilege of working several times before, and whose directing I truly value — created an intimate, almost family-like atmosphere with a small crew. That environment allowed me to go deeper than usual. While shaping Rebecca, I asked myself a question as a sort of inner exercise: what if this were the last role I could ever play? How would I want to portray it, and what would I want to leave behind with it?
That thought became a compass. I wanted the audience, after the first twenty minutes, not to see Rebecca, not even the actress, but to recognize something of themselves in the story.
Rebecca is a ceramic artist — did you find parallels between her creative process and your own process as an actress?
I believe that every artist — whether a dancer, musician, or painter — instinctively brings something deeply personal into their work. With Rebecca, it was no different. For her, the ceramic figures are projections of her subconscious: her desires, her fears, fragments of her inner life. Each piece she creates is not just an object, but a part of her story, much like a canvas and brush allow a painter to reveal their emotions and thoughts. As artists, we are fortunate — our joys, our sorrows, and even our disappointments can find expression through our craft. In that sense, art becomes a form of psychological therapy, a way of transforming the intangible into something visible and shared.
How did you navigate the physical and emotional demands of the hospital scenes, which feel so immediate and raw?
During filming, we deliberately aimed to break the seemingly romantic sequences with the stark realism of the hospital scenes. For authenticity, the surgical moments were performed by an actual practicing surgeon. That’s why every movement you see on screen is completely genuine. Lying there while a real surgeon simulated life-saving procedures on me — on Rebecca — was both shocking and deeply moving. What struck me as well was how focused and disciplined the crew became during these scenes. Even for them, it was extraordinary, almost unsettling, to witness such realism up close.
Many of your past roles have been in English-language productions, often alongside well-known American names. How does stepping into the French arthouse world feel different for you as an actress?
It was a wonderful experience to work with Jason Clarke and Rosamund Pike and to witness the discipline and focus with which Hollywood stars approach their craft. That energy had a lasting impact on me, and shaped how I approach my work. I had the privilege of playing opposite Jason Clarke as Christine Wiegel in The Man with the Iron Heart, directed by French film director Cédric Jimenez.
2015 was another turning point in my life, when I was invited to the Avignon Theatre Festival to perform in Matei Vișniec’s two-person drama about the Yugoslav war. Out of more than 1,200 productions, our play was honored as the second-best performance of the festival. That was the beginning of my love affair with France and its culture.
While English-language films remain an important part of my work — given my American and British mentors and my desire to stay connected to the mainstream — I feel that the French arthouse world is where I find the deepest artistic fulfillment. It allows me to write, perform, and follow the life of the film itself. This genre allows me to explore the complexity and beauty of the human soul in its most profound form.
Having worked internationally, do you feel your acting style has evolved or adapted depending on the cultural and cinematic environment you’re in?
The greatest confidence in my work comes from the foundation I learned from my American mentors — the Meisner technique and the so-called simplicity of performance.But I deeply value cultural diversity. As actors, we must constantly evolve, just as our personalities do. I travel a lot, and I love observing people in different countries — the way a southern temperament expresses joy is very different from a northern one. Cultures vary, but I truly believe the human soul is universal: our joys and sorrows are shared, no matter where we live. I’ve also noticed how different it is to work with an Italian director compared to a German one. Wherever I go, I bring my own toolkit, but I also adapt and refine myself to the task at hand. At the end of the day, I believe the most important qualities are individuality and authenticity.
You are also credited as a co-producer, though your main focus here was acting. How did being involved behind the scenes influence your performance in front of the camera?
In 2024, together with Peter Korday, I co-founded Gold Wood Pictures in Paris, where I also serve as president. After producing two independent short films, we completed our first feature, Flottant légèrement dans les Champs des Sphères / Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres. We are especially proud that both the company and the film received CNC registration — a true mark of quality in France.
While my producer’s role mainly involves guiding projects at a conceptual level, on set I deliberately step back and focus solely on being an actress. Knowing that the production is in secure and professional hands gave me the freedom to surrender completely to Rebecca’s inner world. At the same time, since founding the company I’ve become far more selective as an actress: I now only join projects that feel fully transparent and professionally grounded. That sense of security behind the camera allows me to go deeper in front of it.
What was the most surprising discovery you made about yourself while bringing Rebecca to life?
As actors, it’s natural that we long for love, recognition, and the approval of the audience. But I can honestly say this was the first role in my life where I didn’t want to please anyone. I wasn’t trying to prove myself or to be liked. What mattered most was that, through Rebecca’s journey, people could reflect on their own stories.
Working with Peter Korday — with whom I’ve collaborated on several projects — was special in this sense. Often during filming, he trusted silence and simply observed me. I could feel how carefully he guided me, sometimes with only the subtlest direction. I deeply appreciate that way of working: when a director knows exactly when to take half a step back and let the actor breathe, and then step forward again to gently guide the performance.
European auteur cinema often asks actors to embrace silence, ambiguity, and subtlety rather than exposition. How did this influence your performance in Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres?
I began my career as a musical theatre actress, singing and dancing in front of 800–1000 people. Naturally, I used large gestures on stage. What captivated me about film was the exact opposite: that in front of the camera, the actor becomes stripped down and vulnerable — and it is precisely this fragility that makes the performance truthful. This is also what draws me to auteur cinema: I believe it seeks to capture the unspoken, even the unspeakable, on screen. It requires deep trust — both from the director in the actor, and from the actor in themselves — to allow silence to carry the weight of a moment. For me, this is where I rely on the so-called simplicity approach. We also felt it was essential that the film have original music, and Peter, as director, gave great attention to ensuring that each frame was matched with a score that truly mirrored its emotional resonance.
What does this story mean to you personally, beyond the character — did it resonate with your own experiences or reflections?
This role demanded a great deal from me, yet it also gave me strength. Rebecca’s story touched my own life in profound ways. Although the film is a meditative drama with psychological layers — one could even call it a film about grief — we wanted its ending to carry a sense of hope. It is a story that speaks to everyone, though not necessarily at the same moment in their lives. Some viewers may only feel its impact years later, when they reach a certain stage in their own journey. But I believe it will resonate with all, because ultimately, it touches something universal.
You’ve spoken about finding your artistic home in Paris. What is it about French cinema that inspires you most?
For me, French cinema embodies both elegance and a touch of romance, yet it also carries a raw realism that dares to reveal life as it truly is. I often feel that French films don’t try to please or conform — instead, they lead, and invite the audience to follow, allowing themselves to be enchanted along the way. They delve deep into the human mind, sometimes tearing out emotions that are painful yet liberating. Nothing portrays love as both romantic and heartbreaking at the same time quite like French cinema. One of my personal favorites is Les Parapluies de Cherbourg by Jacques Demy. How do you balance between the more mainstream projects you’ve done in the past and the deeply artistic path you’re carving now? I don’t see a contradiction between the two paths. In fact, I began my career in the American–Canadian action TV series Painkiller Jane, which was my very first screen role. I also believe that my earlier mainstream work helps me flourish even more fully in the arthouse world.
Even today I continue to receive invitations to mainstream projects, and I value those experiences. Yet I feel that, deep down, the French arthouse cinema holds the greatest space in my heart. It is where I find the most profound opportunities and challenges as an actress to reveal true depth.
What was the collaboration with director Peter Korday like? Did his poetic, meditative style of filmmaking challenge you as an actress in new ways?
Peter’s filmmaking is deeply influenced by his many years as a theatre director, especially in opera and musical theatre. Since I also have a background in music, I often immediately understand what he means without many words. We have been working together for several years now, and I truly enjoy the collaboration. Because he himself was once an actor, he knows very well our so-called fears, and he approaches us with great sensitivity.
I remember during the shooting of our previous short film, the male lead was struggling with how to move his character physically, with his body language. Peter simply played the overture of Verdi’s La Traviata and, smiling, asked him to just start walking when he heard the music. The result was remarkable.
During the filming of Flottant légèrement dans les Champs des Sphères / Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres, I experienced the same delicacy. In one scene, he started the camera without giving me any instruction, just waiting to see what would rise to the surface from deep within me. That trust in silence and in the actor’s inner world is what makes his directing style so unique, and for me, so inspiring.
Without revealing story details, what kind of emotional journey do you hope the audience will experience through Rebecca? What I would love is for the audience, after the first 15–20 minutes, to stop seeing Rebecca — or me as the actress — and instead begin to recognize their own story within the film. Although it is a drama with psychological elements, even a story of grief in some ways, we wanted it to carry a sense of hope by the end. My father, who was a mathematician, and physicist, often spoke with me in his later years about quantum physics and about Einstein’s idea that energy never disappears, it only transforms. This thought deeply resonated with me during the making of the film, and I hope it resonates with the audience as well.
If you had to describe Rebecca in just three words, which ones would you choose — and why?
Fragile, strong, and woman. These are the three words I would use. Because that is how I wanted to portray her — at once a hero and a victim, vulnerable yet resilient. Rebecca embodies contradictions, and it is within those contradictions that her humanity shines through.
Kristina Lorent Goztola’s career is as international as it is multifaceted. Born in Hungary, trained in London, New York, and Los Angeles, she has performed in four languages across television, film, and theatre — from Hollywood thrillers to French arthouse dramas. Today, she is not only an accomplished actress but also the co-founder of Gold Wood Pictures in Paris, a company recently recognized by France’s National Film Centre (CNC).
In this conversation with Indie Wrap, Kristina reflects on her beginnings in musical theatre, the lessons she learned from legendary acting coaches, the transition into screen acting, and her growing passion for producing and writing. Above all, she shares why she believes the most personal stories often become the most universal.
From musical theatre stages in Hungary to red carpets at Cannes — what first sparked your love for performing, and how has that passion evolved over the years?
I grew up in a family where music was at the heart of everything. From an early age I studied piano, solfège, and voice, and my parents encouraged me every step of the way. Even though my father was a mathematician and physicist, he believed in exposing me to the arts—he sent me to folk dance, ballet, and later I graduated from the Conservatory in Budapest with a major in classical singing. By the age of sixteen I was already on stage, playing leading roles in musicals and I played ingénue roles in comedies.
At first, I imagined my career would continue on a musical path internationally as well. When I moved to London in my mid-twenties, I thought I would remain within music and musical theatre. But then came a turning point: I was admitted to the Actor’s Centre, where my London agent sent me to train with Jack Waltzer in New York—the legendary coach who worked with Sharon Stone, Dustin Hoffman, and Susan Sarandon.
I’ll never forget that moment. Despite my years of stage experience, I had butterflies in my stomach. After only ten minutes, Jack looked at me and said: “Christine, you are a dramatic actress.” He added that my place was in screen acting. It was a revelation. Suddenly, I had to make a difficult choice: to leave behind leading roles in Hungary and start from scratch in an entirely new world. My agent warned me it wouldn’t be easy, especially as a Central European actress trying to enter the international film circuit, but he also saw potential in my Mediterranean look.
The transition wasn’t simple. On stage, you have to project with grand gestures for hundreds of people. In front of the camera, it’s all about intimacy and honesty in the smallest glance. Learning that shift required not only training but humility—to line up for auditions after having already played leads back home. Still, that encounter with Jack Waltzer truly shaped my destiny. It set me on the path of becoming a film actress.
You trained in London, New York, and Los Angeles with legendary acting coaches like Jack Waltzer and Bernard Hiller. What lessons from them still guide you on set today?
Indeed, meeting Jack Waltzer and Bernard Hiller was a turning point in my career. They were not only extraordinary masters of the craft, but they also reshaped the way I saw myself as an artist and as a person. To study the Meisner technique directly from Jack, who himself had learned it from Sanford Meisner, was a privilege. But beyond technique, what he gave me was belief, kindness, and self-worth. I can honestly say I became a different person after working with him.
Bernard Hiller, who has guided actors like Cameron Diaz, taught me something that stays with me every day: Hollywood is not some faraway dreamland. It’s a beautiful neighborhood in Los Angeles but what makes it magical is not the geography, but the people who dare to believe in themselves. Success, he reminded me, begins in the heart and the mind, not on a map.
From both of them I received more than training; they helped me transform my identity. And that is essential, because an actor always builds from their inner truth.
Your first major screen role was in the American-Canadian series Painkiller Jane. How did it feel to break into international television so early in your career?
I was very young when I was cast in Painkiller Jane, and I knew right away that I was chosen largely because of my appearance. Still, I was deeply grateful for the trust, and I also sensed that if I worked hard, it could become a stepping stone. I’ve always had a touch of fatalism in me, and I felt this was a sign from fate pointing me toward the path I was meant to take.
The series itself was a Canadian–American action show, and I enjoyed every moment of it. I remember standing on set the last day, and when it was over, I felt a kind of emptiness. I realized how much I loved this work and thought: “This is it. This is what I want to do with my life.” Of course, questions followed—would there be more opportunities? Would this momentum continue?
By that time, I had already studied at the New York Film Academy in Los Angeles, so I had both training and passion behind me. But deep inside, I felt a sense of trepidation about whether there would be a next step. Looking back, though, Painkiller Jane confirmed for me that screen acting was not only possible, but necessary.
You speak English, French, Italian, and Hungarian fluently. How has being multilingual shaped the kinds of roles you’re offered — and the way you approach character-building?
As European actors, we know very well that we don’t have the luxury of speaking only English. Luckily, I grew up learning several languages, but I quickly realized that speaking a language well is very different from being emotionally authentic in it as an actor.
When you say words like mother, death, or flower on screen, they must trigger the same subconscious associations and emotions as they would in your native tongue. That takes years of work. And beyond language itself, every culture expresses emotions differently. The joy of an Italian or Spanish character has a different rhythm than the joy of a Northern European one.
I’ve also noticed that when I act in English, French, or Italian, I almost think and feel differently, as though each language opens a new window in my mind. Being multilingual has not only shaped the range of roles I can play, but it has also deepened the way I build characters — from the inside out, through both words and culture.
Kristina Lorent Goztola
You’ve played in everything from Hollywood war dramas to French avant-garde theatre. How do you adapt to such different creative worlds and styles of storytelling?
What I love most about my career is the multicultural aspect — working in different countries, meeting people from all over the world, and building friendships in places like Los Angeles, New York, Paris, and Rome. Travel opens you emotionally, and that openness is essential for an actor.
I’m deeply grateful that my work is so diverse. Whether it’s a Hollywood war drama, a French arthouse film, or an avant-garde play on stage, I always try to approach it with the same depth. Of course, each format demands a different technique — you act differently for a big action movie than for an intimate arthouse film, and differently again for television. Even though I’ve never played in sitcoms or daily soap operas, my training gave me the confidence that I could adapt if needed.
At the New York Film Academy in Los Angeles, we were taught to move between genres with ease, so that no matter where you find yourself, you feel at home in the work. That versatility is a gift — even if you don’t pursue every genre, the knowledge that you could is empowering.
Your role as Christine Wiegel in The Man with the Iron Heartplaced you alongside Jason Clarke and Rosamund Pike. What did you take away from that experience of working on a large-scale international production?
The Man with the Iron Heart was a remarkable experience. Although it was a film headlined by Hollywood stars like Jason Clarke and Rosamund Pike, it was directed by the French film director Cédric Jimenez, who gave me the opportunity to play Christine Wiegel, the mistress of Heinrich Himmler, who was portreyed by Jacon Clarke in the movie.
My agent told me this role would be a defining one, and he was right. Professionally it was a major step, but even more so on a human level. When you enter such a large-scale production, you realize: this is the standard I want to work at from now on. It’s not only about sharing the screen with world-renowned actors, but about the precision, professionalism, and calm focus that surrounded the set.
Cédric Jimenez impressed me deeply, what struck me most was how he directed actors — always precise, confident, and calm. For an actor, that sense of steadiness is invaluable. I remain grateful for the trust and the chance to be part of a project of that caliber.
In 2015, you performed at the Festival d’Avignon in a powerful two-person play about the Yugoslav wars. How did that experience influence your artistic sensibility and your love for French cinema?
In 2015, I was invited to perform in Matei Vișniec’s powerful two-person play Du sexe de la femme comme champ de bataille at the Festival d’Avignon. Before that, we premiered in Paris, then performed every day for a month at Avignon. Performing on the Côte d’Azur, surrounded by its magnificent beauty, was a truly uplifting experience.
Out of more than 1,200 performances, our play received the recognition of being the second-best production – an honor that made me incredibly proud.
I still remember being in Rome on a film shoot when the audition call came. I had to learn three monologues by heart in French in less than a week – it was a real challenge.0
To be honest, my French then was nowhere near as strong as my English or Italian, so I went into the multi-round audition with the calm of someone who had nothing to lose. To my surprise, almost at the same time, I received two offers: one for a major TV series in Italy — which would have meant months of shooting in beautiful southern Italy — and the other for the role of the American psychiatrist in Vișniec’s play about the Yugoslav wars. My agent told me it wasn’t even a question which one I should choose, and he was right. That decision became a turning point in my life.
During rehearsals in Paris, I would often slip into cinemas after work and devour French films. It didn’t feel like discovering something new, but like a continuation — the natural next step in my artistic journey. That’s when I truly fell in love with French cinema and culture. So much so that by 2018, I had produced and starred in my first French-language short film, followed by a second, Le Collier, both shot in Paris with French casts and crews. To this day, many of the friendships born during that period remain alive and precious.
You’ve founded your own Paris-based company, Gold Wood Pictures, which has now received official recognition from the CNC. What does this milestone mean to you as both a producer and an artist?
I’m truly proud and happy about this milestone, because CNC recognition is like a quality seal in France — it’s not automatically granted to every film. With my co-founder, film director Peter Korday, we feel this acknowledgment is worth as much as several awards. It reassures us that we’re on the right path.
For me, it’s also a reminder that if you do something with love and faith, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. I’m an actress first, not a typical producer. When I write a script, I don’t begin by running numbers or calculating how much money it might generate. I approach it with an artistic mindset, from the heart. Producing, for me, is driven by passion rather than business.
Of course, running a production company also means handling contracts, legal matters, and all the details that come with it. But Gold Wood Pictures was never created to take on outside commissions. From the start, our mission has been to develop and produce our own independent projects — original scripts, personal visions. Naturally, many of these works lean toward French arthouse cinema, which I feel is the artistic home where I belong.
Kristina Lorent Goztola
Your latest feature, Flottant légèrement dans les Champs des Sphères, is described as a meditative psychological monodrama. What drew you to this project, and how did it challenge you as an actress?
The story of Flottant légèrement dans les Champs des Sphères (english title: Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres) is fiction, but it grew out of a painful family tragedy. I wrote it to get the pain out of me—I never intended to share it. When Peter Korday read it, he wanted to make it into a film.
At first I resisted. I knew, with a certainty, that playing this role would force me to reopen that wound again and again. It felt like agreeing to die a little every day for the duration of the rehearsal and shoot.
Peter convinced me by showing that the piece, while born in a private place, spoke to universal truths. When I finally accepted, I also accepted that the performance would demand complete vulnerability. The challenge was terrifying — and transformative. In giving myself so fully, I discovered that the most personal stories often become the most powerful for others.
You’ve also started writing screenplays yourself. What inspired you to move into writing, and how does your perspective as an actress influence the way you write?
I’ve always written as an actress. For me, it’s never just words or dialogue on a page — I think in situations, in emotions, in the living reality of a scene. That’s the foundation.
I work closely with Peter Korday, my co-writer, and we’ve been collaborating for years now. Earlier in his career he also worked as an actor. That gives us a shared perspective. Often, before we write a scene, we literally get up and act it out, improvising together until it feels alive. Only then do we put it on paper. I don’t know anyone else who works this way, but for us it’s natural, and we love it.
Because we both know the actor’s side of the craft, we’re always asking: is this line playable? does this dialogue help the actor? does it support the building of a character? That perspective shapes everything we do.
So far, this collaboration has led us to develop two major projects that are now at the heart of our creative journey: a lyrical arthouse drama and an arthouse comedy with touches of vaudeville. These are the stories we feel ready to bring to life next.
Looking back at your journey so far, what moments have defined you most — and what would you tell your younger self just starting out in this industry?
When I look back, a few moments stand out as truly defining. Meeting my masters — the great teachers who shaped me — was life-changing. And the invitation to perform in Avignon in 2015 became a turning point in my career.
Of course, talent and perseverance are essential in this profession. But just as important has been the love I’ve received from my mentors, my colleagues, and the people I work with every day. That love carries me forward.
I’m also a bit of a hedonist, in the best sense of the word. I adore life — sharing coffee with friends, long dinners with family, traveling, discovering new people and places. If I didn’t truly enjoy what I do, if my work didn’t bring me joy every day and give me something back in return, I wouldn’t do it. For me, art and life are inseparable.
If I could tell something to my younger self just starting out, I would borrow the words of one of my favorite writers, Paulo Coelho, from The Alchemist: “And, when you really want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”
Finally, what kind of stories do you hope to tell next — and what do you most want audiences to feel when they watch your work?
As an actress, I continue to receive invitations to work on outside projects and films. But my dream now is, of course, to bring our two screenplays — the ones I mentioned earlier — to life. They are my passion projects.
Of course, I could say that I hope for awards or recognition, and those things matter. But what truly matters to me is the audience.
I want to make cinema that lingers — stories that continue to live in the audience long after they leave the theater.
If a film can stay with you the next day, in your everyday life — if it can give you strength during a difficult moment, or simply bring back a smile from a lighter scene — then it has meaning. My greatest wish is to create films that audiences carry with them, not just for a night, but for years, as part of their own journey.
The Ars Poetica and International Journey of Peter Korday
Written by Pierre Lenoir – medium.com
The Paris-based, Hungarian-born filmmaker, Peter Korday (born Péter Halmi), has become synonymous with visual poetry and an intuitive, atmosphere-driven approach to storytelling. Having honed his craft in France and Hollywood, his works have been showcased at numerous international festivals. His artistic vision draws on the playfulness of the French New Wave, the emotional depth of Claude Lelouch, the dreamlike surrealism of Fellini, and the meditative silences of Tarkovsky.
“Like Fellini dreaming through Truffaut’s lens in a Tarkovskian silence.”
– as Korday once summarized his own artistic creed.
Intuition, Metaphor, Atmosphere
Korday’s films rarely follow the rules of classical dramaturgy. Instead, they build universes from layers of emotion, music, and imagery. His stories, poised delicately between reality and dream, often explore memory, desire, identity, and the subconscious.
He began his career as an actor, working across Germany, Japan, Canada, and the United States, before moving to Los Angeles, where he transitioned to directing. It was there, after years in theater, that he began to shape his cinematic language – one that blends a deep exploration of inner worlds with a sensory-driven film style. His short films – including Coriandoli Verdi, Adieu, Dreams of Los Angeles, and The Necklace – have screened at international festivals, solidifying his position as a filmmaker of global relevance.
“For me, cinema is not just about telling a story. It’s an experience – emotional, sensory, and deeply personal. A journey where the audience discovers their own inner landscapes,”
says Korday. This philosophy makes his work distinctive: intimate yet universal, local yet global.
The Present and What’s Next
In May 2025, post-production was completed on his French feature, “Flottant légèrement dans les Champs des Sphères” / “Soft Floating in the Fields of Spheres,” which is now preparing for its festival premiere.
Then, in August 2025, Péter Császár, the screenwriter and producer of Stay for One Night, invited Korday to direct the film. This upcoming project will be a lyrical dramedy, blending comedic elements with deep character work and carefully crafted emotional arcs. Though it will be shot in Hungarian, the film will carry the unmistakable signature of Korday’s work – the French arthouse sensibility and refined atmosphere that have defined his career so far.
“We’re not making a mainstream crowd-pleasing comedy,”
says Korday.
„For me, it’s still about integrity and a festival-driven vision. My goal isn’t to follow the audience – it’s to lead them, to take them somewhere they haven’t been before.”
