Hollywood On The Danube

The paint is peeling. Videocassettes and cartoon drawings are scattered everywhere. And Andras Erkel needs a shave. But the 31-year-old mogul seems oblivious to the disorder and to his own fatigue. Titans-in-waiting have no time to sleep. When his secretary signals that a phone call to Hollywood has finally gone through, Erkel shouts into the receiver: "Hey, dude! It's Budapest calling."

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