A mystical atmosphere welcomes everybody who enter the Bárka Theatre on the performance of Theomachia, from the strange deep-like area dusk and whispers arrive, while we find our seats on the podium. Stadium and church – I like this kind of profane association, because they exclude each other. Devotion can be connected to one of them, and applause to the other one. Both of them have cultic meaning too, both of them are built on mass psychosis, at the time of the ancient Greeks they could live side by side. Just the new era laugh at them, in one of them the suppression in the other one the enjoyment without limits of the instinct count. That is why the theatre feels to warn the entering people to behave well. This is the sad reality of our life: we are thought to be incompetent to the ceremony that is made for us – and made with us. It is not enough if we are different at the end of the ceremony, we have to enter as initiated ones before our initiation. There are chroniclers, who would cover theatrical speech with purple fog. We are looking down and wondering. Zoltán Balázs, the director of Theomachia tells, that he wants a theatre which is “understandable to Mary and Rose too”. Why is it important to make them understand those things too, which clever people tell about them? Do not wish the impossible.

The young Sándor Weöres’ oratorio dramatic poem from 1938 works off one of the stories of the ancient Greek mythology, in which Kronos the youngest titan eats his children, because according to his fate, one of his child is about to take over his power. Which will happen anyway, as instead of the child-Zeus, the executor father-god, who was hidden, he was fed by a bundled stone. The poetic story is as dramatic, as any text should be and it is as much as a tragedy of fate as it is personalised by the people (actors) who try to show it. In the middle of the black padded area, the symbol of the infinite time and power as a black motionless monster: Ilona Béres as Kronos. He is without body in his mass being too, neither a man nor a woman, it is an allegorical creature, it recites its text gutturally. It is a fantastic artistic achievement, because of the physical and mental concentration too. The symbol of the eternal world order falls apart in front of us: Béres leaves her black robe, pulls out in clumps her messy hair, from the shapeless eternal god she becomes deformed mortal being in her white nightdress, bare feet and bald.

Everything is moving around her. The ageless gods and the orphan Zeus’ armed guards (the choir of the Curates) play all over on the plain stage, the drop, the net and the balcony above. Oral and physical demonstration broadcast the “actions”, the birth, the fight, the battle of gods. The thin Gabriella Varga, as Gaia the “wide breasted Earth” in a choreography with a stick (András Szöllősi), which is similar to the movements of dancers from far-eastern area, can build her monologue. Andrea Spolarics (Rhea) and Rémusz Szikszai (Okeanos) on a narrow beam of light opposite to each other try to “balance” the bridge of the dialogue. Typhon, the fire-breather Giant with hundred heads, Erzsébet Soltész is a muscular Indian dancer. The Curates (Róbert Kardos, Attila Egyed, Róbert Lucskay, Erik Ollé, Balázs Dévai) are the cult fighters of the angry human tribe. A boy (Kristóf Horváth) sometimes is similar to the Egyptian dog-god, to Cerberus. A greedy eclecticism – form of an ancient egg, rubber-baby and crumbled bread – they over lined and connected together the performance, László Sáry’s music which is full of noises and human sounds, Judit Gombár’s spectacular stage with eastern-like patterns of costumes, with the sign of the fallen red draperies, the ancient disc of the universe, which broke up and that way on its flat tribune the characters solve the end of the ancient chaos with the harmony of Weöres’ poem, (The drum and dance) which is about silence and piece. We can think about historical allegories in connection with the drama of fate, but it is disarming and impressive without it too.

*

Why do you have to be so cruel, asks one of the character in the performance, A Lie of the Mind by Sam Shepard, which drama was translated by László Upor, and the other one answered: “The fate is so cruel.” It is another drama of fate; from nowadays, on the modern, American Wild West. Two people, two families. A young couple. Jake and Beth are far away from each other, both of them with their own family. Because of jealousy Jack nearly killed Beth. The woman’ brain suffered damage, her cure is slow and doubtful. The man made himself believe, that he has killed his wife: his brother travels to Beth’s family to make it clear, but the girl’s brother shoots and captures him. Both families are full of secrets and lies. Jake and his sister cannot face up with the real surroundings of their mother and father’s death, Beth’ parents escape to their own selfish and painted world from the reality. The couple will meet once more, but Jake has been ruled by catatonia, and Beth by her madness – their last meeting is a fatal one.

Shepard’s play is suffocated, tensed and grotesque. His dramaturgy is missing, like in the case of antique tragedies or the modern psychodramas. To ask why it does not follow the traditional realism - why they have not investigated the domestic violence, why they do not arrest Jake - , is similar to ask, why the three sisters do not go to the train station to buy tickets, or why Hamlet does not hire a private investigator. It is not necessary, the world of the drama does not need it. A Lie of the Mind – I would tell it as a Fake Sense – is the drama of unconsciousness, its characters have lost their connection with reality. This is the well-known topic from the overseas, the inheritance of the American dream. Shepard honestly without any sentimentality, forms sentences in a cold way, with rising irony, he shows simultaneously the fate of passion and narrow-mindedness.

The performance of the Új Theatre is really good. The director, Árpád Sopsits does not build rooms into the studio, Péter Horgas put into the crossed place the two main (and the other minor) places. Only the necessary objects, some effects of movie-like lightening and the phantom characters like ghosts behind the walls are needed, to make (not because of the author’s aim, but not against him) the deformed world appear. The passing from the opposite sides at the beginning and at the end of the performance is the atmospheric frame, however Sopsits from the actor, without any help, can form a strong atmosphere. Anna Györgyi as Beth can show not the mental case, but a technically perfect human medical history. Zsolt Huszár is a profit to the theatre, in the role of Jake he brings the pure power towards its fall. Mari Nagy is perfect as Beth’s mother, she is Meg, who lives between the smiley illusions of the pink dream. Levente Király is crazy about hunting and the American flag, frighteningly selfish and ridiculous as Baylor. The others also do their best: Ildikó Bánsági and Kata Pálfi are the mother and daughter who are about to destroy their past, and Zoltán Géczi, is Frankie in trap and Sándor Almási is Mike, who is vengeful. In this performance there are as much mythical as much casual there are in Theomachia. Who after these two wants to work with psychological realism instead of rite and back, that one does not understand theatre at all.

(Sándor Weöres Sándor: Theomachia - Bárka; Sam Shepard: A Lie of the Mind - Új Theatre)

Tamás Koltai, Élet és Irodalom, 2004

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

On the stage: the stressed and continuous appearance of the personalised time. A strange, statue-like figure is going step-by-step – the beginning and the end of his movement remain unknown for us. (When we arrive at the auditorium he has already been going on, and he has not finished it when we leave the place after the performance.)

In Weöres’ play: this is the era of the formation and recognition of time; the way from the timeless existence up until the life with fixed end. It is a mythological story about the bitterness raised by the knowledge of time (the knowledge of our own finite), the unavoidable loss of the ancient completeness. “The life is going on, it cannot stop in the half way, you cannot tie it with kisses or strings."

Weöres’ oratorio drama: the free poetic transformation of the first pages of the Mythology written by Apollodorus, which is about the ancient gods’ fight and the beginnings of first humans’ life. The meaning of the title is the “fight of gods”: Kronos killed his father – Uranos, the first god – then ate his descendants, that there would not be anybody against his power. The baby Zeus has managed to escape with the help of Curates, and after growing up, he kills his father. That way the lifeless life, the era of Uranos has been changed by the lively life, by Kronos’, than by the era of sense, by Zeus’. “Then he is pushed into gloom by a better one, the existence can grow above completeness that way.” The play is a brilliant work, which can form Aeschylus-apocrypha with the form of a drama, into which the author built in pagan, folk-art imitations too.

The performance: the free adaptation formed into an important vision of Weöres’ play, to its story, independently from the era and place, music is composed (László Sáry’s, with the performing cooperation of Kornél Mogyoró and Zoltán Gavodi), it contains Hungarian folk-music imitations too. In connection with the staging, the expressive tools of the eastern (Japanese, Chinese) performing art are strongly used: the stylized playing method, movements, and visual effects.

The director, Zoltán Balázs and the group of the theatre together with the guest stars did not believe – which is mentioned many times by the experts - , that the young writer’s play, the Theomachia is not suitable for stage. As Weöres turned towards the myth, to give sensual form for the ideas, the performers formed the same way the language of the performance, which is made of many lines, to be able to give sensual forms for the lines of the poem. (To evoke different cultures together it is a form, which is very loyal to the writer, as Weöres was interested in not only one circle of myth, but in the universe shown in different myth.) They are brave enough to sacrifice the important part of the text on the altar of non-verbalism: some parts are missing, some of them are changed a lot: the Curates who have not got their senses yet, and Kronos who is mad because of the fulfilment of his fate, tell the words backwards, they use a special non-existent language that way. (It belongs to Weöres too, if you like it that way.)

Kronos, by Ilona Béres, rules the black-red-white world of the performance. She is standing in the middle, motionless up until the end of the performance. A bunraku-like mask covers her face. She can build only on her voice and artistic vibe, but her performance has enormous power that way too. He is commanding, terrifying and then just pitiful. Gabriella Varga is using just stylized gestures, shows perfectly the blindness, the ageing and the inside power of Gaia who is coming back from an underground exile. Erzsébet Soltész with impressive knowledge of dancing shows us Typhon (the namesake of typhoon), his fight against the pretender of the new world.

An imaginative, exciting performance was made on the stage of the Bárka Theatre. However the staging effect of the performance – at least according to the writer of these lines – was under the poetic effect of the literary work. The reasons for it can be the not always evident showing of the story, the length of some parts, which test the audience’s attention, and the references, which are ununderstandable, confusing sometimes, and they are against the text itself. Besides the earlier ones, the merit of the performance is the fact that it leaves the fight of gods in its eternity, and does not turn into an actual political parabola about the tyrants who come one after another, and who think that their power is forever.

Adrienne Dömötör Adrienne, Zsöllye, 2004

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

Sándor Weöres’ play, which is similar to ancient Greek dramas, the Theomachia is not a typical theatre-friend play. Gods are against each other using lines with quantitative metre, while the choir helps in the battle.

Not only its style, is archaic but its topic too. After that Kronos beats his father, Uranos, he cursed him: according to it, Kronos will be beaten by one of his son, as he did it with his father, Uranos. After it, Kronos tries to cheat his fate, and he eats his children, born by his wife-sister. But Rhea could save the last child, and gives the baby Zeus to the double legged, “stone thrower” Curates, who after growing up will kill his father finally. Zoltán Balázs with the actors of Bárka Theatre and with Ilona Béres as a guest star creates a really exciting theatre from the drama. Interesting that Ilona Béres now plays a role of a man, she is Kronos, standing on the same point during the two and half hour long performance. The style of acting and playing technique is similar to the Far-eastern theatre. As they are using the sets, tools, costumes and face painting of a traditional Japanese theatre for the story. Moreover, as in the case of a no- or kabuki performance, the audience has not known the archaic language yet, here Zoltán Balázs takes apart the elements of the text. Some of the actors tell backwards Weöres’ texts, and sometimes the words as sounds are falling out of their mouth. However, it does not prevent the understanding of the play but helps it.

During this punctually, over thought performance they use the whole area. They equipped the fencing hall of the Bárka Theatre to be able to show it as a very big room, weirdly. In this high and wide area the characters of the stage are speaking sometimes from head level, then from above or under side. They have no limits, and it gives magical mood to the performance. It must be one of the most important performance of the season, where outstanding theatrical moments were born.

Haynal, Budapesti Nap, 2003

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

I understand, I understand well the young Zoltán Balázs when he decides: he will adjust to the stage and to the possibilities of the Bárka Theatre, Sándor Weöres’ oratorio drama, Theomachia. After all everything is together in the fight of gods – from the Greek mythology and tragedy of fate through the metaphysical anxiety until the magic of poetry – which can move the talented actor-director’s fantasy who has wishes of totality. The beginning, Kronos’ cruelty, who eats his own children, and his madness because of the fear of the loss of power, has thoughts with multiple meaning. With some simplification it can refer to the dictators’ of the 20th century, to Hitler, Stalin, Mao, Ho Si Minh and the others’ story and terror.

From Sándor Weöres – as I think – the updating which uses clichés and tries to tell everything can be very far. At least he “lets” us associate from Uranos-Kronos-Zeus, the perfect divine trio’s fatal fight to the imperfection of the world and human beings, to their repeated madness. (Unfortunately, I could not think of a better cliché too.) Zoltán Balázs mentions in his reports the open and direct connection between the Kronos’ cult and the modern dictators. The spectacular, suggestive performance protested with its distance. Judit Gombár’ spacious red and black set, the costumes, the various dresses and robes emphasise the agelessness. We could find the rich treasure of motives and traditions of Japanese, Indian and Ancient Egyptian culture in the refined patterns, in the strange lines of belts, hats, floating veils, the frightened drawings of the wigs and masks. “The meeting of cultures” is quoted by László Sáry’s music, his strange and frightening “bum-bum” which is composed on percussion instruments and deep human guttural voices and the choir’s fantastic and diverse choreography.

Zoltán Balázs took Sándor Weöres’ oratorio as a starting point, from where he jumped high towards the stage of brave visions. In this strange world Weöres’ wonderful, expressive poem is divided into sighs, cries, shouts, whispers and simple sounds. At the beginning of the performance, as a choir the letters ó are rounded, the ú gets deep and bumming, the letter i cries and screams and the s letter are hissing. (For Endre Szkárossy and other followers of sound-poetry it would be an extraordinary pleasure.) When the drama reaches its top, the lines are told backwards, they sigh and cry. They try to indicate that: because of the dramatic happenings, which are raging in the gods, because of their pain, they cannot be approached by the normal order of sounds. (I think that way, maybe I am not right. This all can be pure provocation and mannerism.) According to the young director we can call his adaptation “meta-communicative theatre” or ”cactus milk and guinea fowl” too. The name is less important. We “take the words apart then we bubble like children, and try to put together again the parts of sounds, and find out new words...”

One thing is for sure: for the sound perfection and the unusual performing, the actors need enormous devotion and precision. Ilona Béres’ achievement supposes a great physical power too. For two hours, she is standing disciplined, in a demonstrating way, motionless in the middle of the stage in Kronos, the cruel ruler’s heavy costume, with his terrifying mask, and torn, heavy wig – and plays only with her voice. Her huge, deep voice with warm tone, sometimes rages with manlike aggression. It fills the area. When she tells backwards her monologue about loneliness and fall, she can save and express the musicality and beauty of Weöres’ poem. Andrea Spolarics – in the role of Rhea – also has hundreds of voices to express the pain of a mother, who has lost her child. Gabriella Varga, as the crying Mother of Earth plays, turns, swirls with her huge stick fantastically. Erzsébet Soltész are wandering like a dizzy and lost Puck, she is dancing as Kronos’ servant in the complete bikini-like, shining dress of the Siamese twins. The masculine reserved Okeanos, (Rémusz Szikszai) with perfect musicality gives sound to Weöres’ Alexandrines lines. He gives the truth at once.

Zoltán Balázs’ Theomachia-composition is really different from any traditional theatrical performances. Its visual world charmed me. Meanwhile when I got home, I happily opened again Weöres’ oratorio. How did it happen once, when one of the titans, Uranos and Gaia’s son, Kronos cut their father genital, pushed him from the sky, and put himself on the throne of the universe. He ate his children for nothing, he lost his power anyway. Through his youngest son, Zeus. Because “the life is going on, it cannot stop in the half way, / you cannot tie it with kisses or strings, /.../ It is that way. you can protest against it or not.” Weöres’ lines from his poem seduce me as always. Into a dreamless dream. However, they call me straight ahead, not backwards.

Ilona Gantner, Vasárnapi Hírek, 2003

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

They warn us nicely in the hall to switch off our mobile phone there, and then take our seat inside as quietly as we can, because the performance is already going on at the moment of the opening of the doors. As we are entering the mysterious, reddish dusk, between the „whispers and screams”, we become incompetent watchers, who have got into the middle of a ceremony by accident (remember The school for fools performance by Maladpye). We do not know this religion, this rite, we are not involved in. Many times there is a thick – sometimes a disturbingly translucent, sometimes it is not at all – glass wall between the actors and the audience. It is not similar to the wall, which is sometimes there in theatre on the thin borderline between the stage and the auditorium. In those theatres after a while the tension is eased, the wall disappears; everything which happens in the performance „seems like happening with us too”. Here and now it does not. It is impossible to identify with the barbarian rhythmical melodic speech which is told backwards and the monotonous chanting (or maybe because of it?) of the red dressed priests’ of ancient religion and pagan rites. We are outsiders, who have forgotten and have not learnt (again) yet this language. It is natural that we cannot always understand everything – or it is not necessary, is it?

It is connected to the question: how does this theatre want to effect us? To say banally: on our emotions or senses? On both of them or neither of them, the truth is somewhere in the middle. This is mostly the night of our instincts which are sleeping inside, the night of qualities which can be understood by sense organs (so hardly told by words). Sándor Weöres is hard in his simplicity, his wonderful, poetic text, hard words are repeated many times one another, they fall again and again into the cold silence of the cosmos. Inarticulate ancient feelings are swirling around us in the Fencing Hall of Bárka Theatre. It is also a „Battle of Worlds”: we can see, hear and feel the birth of a new world, the destruction of the old one, its fall into the darkness, from where the earlier one has come. The wondering attention is restricted, there is not any escape from Kronos’ power, which fills all corner of the place. It would drown and eat us, the audience too, as he would do with his children if the liberating ending did not arrive, where the collected, great tension can flare up like a small flame for people of the new era, in the Boy’s / Zeus’ (Kristóf Horváth) hand and covers his young, almost nude body with ash.

Kronos’ (Ilona Béres) presence is obvious, she is standing motionless and unmoveable in the middle of the universe (which only has its contours); she barely opens her paper-thin mouth to give her short, cruel (harmfully for the vocal cords too) commands. Strong black lines divide her grey-white face, her messy hair is long and black. We can meet Kronos in his full power, but he will lose it soon. He has already eaten three of his daughters and two of his sons, because of his fear that any of them would take his power, as he did it before with his father, Uranos. This fear is the only feeling that leads all of his actions and thoughts. That is why he cannot become an unlimited ruler: Kronos is morbidly afraid of the fulfilment of the Moiras’ unavoidable prophecy.

This basic fear became well-established when his wife, Rhea turned against him, and secretly had her youngest child brought up in the isle of Crete, and served her husband a stone instead of the baby Zeus. Andrea Spolarics as Rhea is perfect opposition of her cold and insensitive husband: she is full of blazing, passion and vibrant vitality. Her motherhood is above everything: as we have mentioned at the beginning of the performance with its strange mood becomes full, that during the priests ceremony, who are repeating Kronos’ name, on the net, which is stretched out between the two half of the auditorium, Rhea gives a birth to a child, who the servants put immediately on Kronos’ table. Kronos’ brother Okeanos helps Rhea to get rid of her bloodthirsty husband: Rémusz Szikszai on his firm voice gives advice to the mother, he cannot be stopped by Rhea’s fear of her husband’s revenge. Okeanos believes of course not in his own plan, but in the power, independent of him, he believes in fate.

There are things in the world (on stage) which can work independently of Kronos (and anyone else too) – the veiled woman creature – like a Magritte painting – with a bird-cage on her head is one of them, as she is walking up and down on a tall spiral staircase all through the performance. Who is she? Maybe as we see the strange creature, the most obvious one is to associate to The Time, that is indifferent with the fate of any creatures. The time is an important part of this performance anyway: it is well known that in ancient times, Kronos was identified with the „Father of Time”, partly because that according to Homer „the sharp-witted” god consumed both his past (his ancestor, Uranos) and his future (his successors, among the others, Zeus too). The giant wheel behind Kronos / Ilona Béres, than its „dislocation” on the top of the actions, and its breaking up can be connected to time, to the beginning of a new era. Or maybe this appearance on the stairs represents the three Moiras’ ominous power, which is always hidden there behind the nice surface? The grim goddesses of fate are mentioned many times on the stage, but they never appear in their body in front of us – the veiled creature could warn us as a silent exclamation mark to our common fate.

It can be a too didactic lesson, but anyway: the basic topic of the play is about the fight between the old and new, barbarian and civilized, or even the pagan and the Christian (we can go on with it), and about the winning of the later one (this topic was interesting in ancient times too, think about The Maenads by Euripides or The Persian by Aeschylus). It is a cliché that the base of the European Civilization was built by the Christian – Jewish culture and the Greek – Roman world. Weöres „oratorio drama” from 1938 shows us fateful moments during this process: we can become the witnesses of the first „change of paradigm”. However Kronos got rid of his father, Uranos, as Zeus would do it with him, but with the fact that Kronos got on the throne, nothing has changed yet. The pantheon on Mount Olympus will be formed just after the strengthen of Zeus’ power, so he is the "homo novus", by the winning of whom our world can born from chaos.

Zoltán Balázs’ considered direction faces up with these listed problems – but we cannot get calming solutions everywhere. We do not have to be in close relationship with Sándor Weöres’ poetic texts to recognise the very important role of sounding in his works, and of the feelings, which are generated – recalled by him, and of the impressions. The staging is based on this recognition and uses ancient methods for the ancient topic, in that way it reaches (word) magic and towards the ritual theatre (which is spreading nowadays). The words get their own life at the moment of their articulation, their repetition, varying, sounding backwards or the breaking up of the sentences into their elements opens new dimensions for the audience (that is why we can hear the poet’s other works too, like the Drum and dance). The musicality of Weöres’ texts are strengthened more by the important role of percussion instruments (Kornél Mogyoró) and the singing voice, which is sometimes from unearthly regions (Zoltán Gavodi).

The almost two and a half hour long performance, without any intervals builds up the story following this way and tries to form the most varied techniques into an organic whole. That is how the Hungarian folk song like singing can be next to the „baroque” countertenor aria; the ancient Greek topic and some outside elements of the eastern, static staging (so both the organisation of the set and the costumes can be thanked for Judit Gombár’s work); Weöres’ texts which he dedicated to Babits and the new-old-like magic poetry which is born from it and by it.

It is compulsory to watch Zoltán Balázs’ staging in the Fencing hall of the Bárka Theatre. It is not the best performance of the season, but for sure even with its inconsistency, we have to consider it as one of the most exciting and poetical try. It is good to be considered as the next step of the director’s path-finding; it is not a complete work, but it is full of references forward (hopefully) and (to the earlier ones – The School for Fools, Jack, or the Submission) backward, and a mental construction thanks to a lot of hard work.

Tamás Jászay, Criticai Lapok, 2004

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

The Bárka Theatre takes a great risk again with its new performance. The young Zoltán Balázs (who is member as an actor too) has put on stage Sándor Weöres’ poetic play, the Theomachia which we have not seen on stage before. After the mixed acceptance of Romeo and Juliette, which was the first performance of the season, the theatre would need a good, successful performance among both the viewers and the professionals. The Bárka Theatre chooses the harder way - which has the risk of fall too.

Zoltán Balázs’ directions with the Troupe of Maladype have had promising critical success so far. The profession takes the young creator as one of the great hope of the future. The performances of Maladype try to handle both the Hungarian and the Gypsy culture as a starting point, while they are looking for new and valid artistic forms as well. For Zoltán Balázs’ works, the game of language is very typical: he does not insist to the fact that the audience can understand the words, he tries to have effect on the senses, like in case of Jack, or the submission, which was played mostly on Gypsy language. He has strong effects on stage with the choreographed movements and with the music of the unknown language. It is also conspicuous that Zoltán Balázs directs those dramas with the Maladype, which examine the relation between the individual and community, the tyrant and the crowd.

Weöres’ play finds its place after the Jack... and The school for fools. The situation and the reason is different. The Bárka Theatre works as a company, as a theatre with repertoire, and not an independent group, which is formed according to sympathy. The troupe will be able to become a mature creative community after many years, but now they are talented people, who are contracted next to each other, who work according to different theatrical idols. Zoltán Balázs’ strong conception supposes some kind of calling, common mentality and working method, the lack of which can change the performance into the pure demonstration of style. If I - remember well - the same “mistake” happened in case of Shearwater, directed by János Mohácsi: everything was there which is typical for a Mohácsi performance, but the staging construction did not work, because the elements were shown one by one.

The director’s prior conception can be seen on the website of Bárka Theatre: “The writer of Theomachia, the title of which can be translated as: The battle of gods, gets its topic from the Greek mythology, called his work first dramatic poem than oratorio-drama. However, some amateur university students played it in 1972 in the Szkéné Theatre, because of the lack of happenings and the long dialogues it can be performed better in front of the microphone as a radio play than on stage. Therefor, it has all the attributes to put it into the category of unplayable plays by theatrical experts. Meanwhile as a young director I think the Sándor Weöres’ drama which is more Greek than many Greek drama from the point of view of its topic, style and language usage, and more Hungarian than the language of many Hungarian folk tales, brings up those kind of dramaturgic, staging technique, visual and acoustic problems which challenge the most modern and up to date theatrical thinking too. I would like to handle this challenge, when in the Fencing hall of the Bárka Theatre, together with eleven, very different actors, I research the unified, common language of the oratorio ceremonial play, through Weöres’ Hungarian type Alexandrines, the base of which is the author’s infantile, childish, hardly abstract lyre.” He admits that he has accepted a really hard challenge with Weöres’ text, as the Hungarian staging traditions do not have many performances with similarly elevated poetic texts. Zoltán Balázs tries his talent on an almost untouched area.

After seeing the performance and knowing Zoltán Balázs’ earlier works, the keyword is the ceremony or the rite, which can rise the play from the traditional staging circle. In this case he makes the audience simple viewers, interested peepers. (Of course it is a very subjective idea, that only those performances can be good, where the viewers are partners and not outstanding viewers with wondering eyes.) It comes from this rite-like nature that the performance can work in its own inner circle, according to its unique rules. The players know the keys, the system, which they follow, the question is that it will get to the other side of the “glass”.

The Fencing hall of the Bárka Theatre is ruled by the view of giant red draperies, which reach the ground. We can see the whole, wide black space – from the stairs to the window. The audience is pressed to the side. Like during an exciting tennis match: we have to turn our head continuously from left to right if we want to follow the parallel actions. It would be more useful if the viewers were able to go around the ceremony, or choose from the others the episode which is the most important one for him. The performance is an exhibited object too, it is far away enough from the outsiders. At the entrance they warn the viewers not to make any noises, not to disturb the performance. The evening starts with anxiety and this tension will not soften with the moving of time. Kronos (Ilona Béres as guest) is sitting firmly in the middle: the actress is standing almost motionlessly all through the performance, and playing only with her resonant, angry voice. It is a shocking experience, that rules the performance and the viewers’ attention too. The aim is Kronos’ fall, to move him out from his absolute power. (The set cites the dictatorships with red drapes really obviously.)

The performance uses Weöres’ text as an ingredient. The stress is on the form instead. They play with the text: they repeat it, and sing lines backwards. The actors do various voice tricks: deep sounds appear as well as opera-like tones. The moving on stage is stylized too. It can be seen well that the actors do not have any professional dance training, so they do the choreography with hard work but they cannot perform it. László Sáry composed distracted sounds to the merciless world of Theomachia. The performance can be called the most adequately, noisy theatre of movements.

It is an irritating conclusion that Theomachia is just a good reason for the ritual theatrical work. The director’s typical tools are there and they vividly form a system, as the players evidently put together the divergent motives. From its falling apart the actors’ great humility can save the production. The performance is without any intervals, there is no way to escape. Who enters once, cannot get away from the gods’ fight. The director’s aim always wants a lot, tries to provoke big effect, which makes the watching tiring too. The presence of the effective dramaturgical work cannot be felt. This version of direction is uncut and it is full of suckers. It is similar to the situation when we watch an unknown, exotic religious ceremony, which can be interesting for half an hour, than turns to be embarrassing boredom, as it is not about the view anymore. If the meaning of the words, gestures and sounds are unknown, as only for those who are inside, then it is hard to follow sensibly the strange action on.

Zoltán Balázs’ experiment has remained an experiment. It could not leave the list of aims and possibilities, the circle of its introduction. It is partly proved that with the actors of the Bárka Theatre cannot or should not be done the same as with the troupe of Maladype. Meanwhile it is hard to build a new group in the Bárka Theatre if all performances have different sounding and style. The performances come from nothing and they are hardly connected. The Bárka Theatre is still looking for its voice. More voices are trying out at once, who knows which will be the real one.

Melind Sőregi, Kontextus.hu, 2004

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

The moderator of the professional discussion:
Ilona Mélykuti journalist
Invited commenters:
György Karsai critic, theatre historian
Erzsébet Bogácsi critic

György Karsai critic, theatre historian:

Zoltán Balázs does the Greek style with Theomachia. It is a great pleasure to watch this performance for a philologist. We can see on stage analysis, punctual analysis and the conclusion of them. The first pleasure for me was, that the director – if I understand well – he simply looks for the meaning of the word “theatron”, that is all he does. That is a place where we can learn with the help of sights. The theatre is about the process, that we get information, and this information comes from the sight. The relationship is very important in this performance between the sight and the text, the sight and the music, the sight and the movement. Here we can see a scale of rites. The recall of a rite, which is on an exact language. According to Weöres’ definition of genre, it is an oratorio. Zoltán Balázs was stick to the original in that case too, so we could watch an oratorio-like performance, which was followed by music and movement, it means that he has to take into consideration some forma elements of the rite.

There is a choir, or if it is not a choir, than a crowd, the five Curates. They can be called as guards, or killers, or simply the choir of the Greek theatre. For we can immediately connect the text, which is told by them during the two-third of the performance, that text which is told backwards, from which we cannot understand, of course, even a word. It is wonderful again, because it refers to the importance of the archaic rite, which is happening in front of us is like a mystery, like an initiation. Something, which we have not known yet, but we will be the part of it. If once we get there to understand what it does, what is the text about.

I do not think that there would be anybody in the auditorium, who did not try to reconstruct the text when realised that, they were talking backward. Which is an exciting but of course a hopeless try of course, because when one has understood a word and got the experience of Eureka, they were with five words ahead. I would like to tell with it, that is can rise an incredible tension. We are learning. We cannot take a rest for a moment during this performance. We are sitting there two and quarter of an hour and leave the auditorium dead tired. There is not any rest. That is why I have told that we get back the original meaning of the word, “theatron”.

The story is very important here. Is which story told by Weöres and Zoltán Balázs? Well, this story is Hesiod: four lines from his eternal work, from The birth of Gods. What is happening there: Uranos, Kronos, and then Zeus is coming. That is all. Transition of power.

I do not want to talk about that it can be a political parabola. I have read that it is tyranny and the rebel against it, the end of the tyranny and the birth of the new power. I am not interested in it. If there is anything interesting in this story, so in the story of Uranos, Gaia, Kronos and after Kronos in the story of Zeus than it is the immobility of Kronos. That figure carved from a block, which Ilona Béres puts in front of us with a very scary intensity, about it I would like to tell some words later. This motionlessness on this stage in the performance by Zoltán Balázs, indicates for me, that we can see the time, the continuity of world history in front of us. Since people involuntarily associate to one of the basic tragedy of classical Greek culture, to the chained Prometheus, when we see this motionless and unmoveable figure, which is the next part of the story of the chained Prometheus, this is the story of the rebellion against Zeus, and it tells its consequences. When I think that this story becomes secondary behind the rite, then we suddenly get involved in the theatre. Into which can be made by theatre with what kind of effects.

There are so much humour in this performance. We can see well the humorous parts, when the five Curates are jumping around the baby. It is not shouting, we do not laugh aloud because of it, but it is there like another element. Here Zoltán Balázs dares to play with everything from the bravest and most horrific elements, from the tearing up of the child, up until the situational comedy. I can mention humour inside the oratorio too, when Gaia goes aside or runs through the stage and starts singing, suddenly we get three seconds of illusion of The Magic Flute, which makes people listen to, then the story is going on, this performance has no connection neither with Mozart nor with the opera of course, but they are in it too. If I understand well, this performance tries to salute to different genres, authors, great creators and styles. It always puts the theatre, the “theatron” in the middle.

In connection with theatre of rites, we have to mention of course József Ruszt. For me Rhea’s first scene, when hanging, entangling and chaining to the net she gives birth to her child, makes me remember József Ruszt’s direction from the middle of the 70s, The Bacchae. I can tell another thing: the conscious and wonderful game with the lights. When on behalf of the moiras, of the moira herself is standing on the left side of the stage and behind her a thin beam of light cuts the scene, crosses it in front of Kronos...Robert Wilson has a performance, which he made together with Michel Piccoli: the “La Maladie de la Mort”, which plays simply with it, that a very thin beam of light goes through the back part of the stage and cuts up the life. Here it forms a border too. This shows the end, the border of Kronos’ power.

Or the time. The game with time. The time is unstoppable. Behind Ilona Béres, there is a giant wheel of time. This time will not get out, but it will shatter in this performance. It is very frightening. Otherwise, the colour dynamism of the whole performance is very important. The game of black and red, which are obviously: about a game with style, staging language of eastern-like theatres from the opera in Beijing until the quoting of the language of the Japanese theatre, which I do not think needs more explanation. Here is the rite again. The universality of which is touchable, so its crossing on cultures can be understood from the point of view of any culture, and with different movements, these cultures can be connected to each other.

For me the most captivating was that Zoltán Balázs understood, he has shown us, that we do not have to understand everything in theatre. The theatre needs to have effect on us. The effect again...You get it...I do not, I hope someone will explain it for me. It is not important anyway. It is so good and beautiful, that I do not need the explanation, because it is good. When Gaia appears with that stick. How does she get it? What is she doing with it? Why does she have this stick? It will become a samurai sword after a while. It helps the movements.

This view of time... What these heroes miss from their life is something, which can make it the most tragic one: this is the risk of death. Do not forget that it is about Theomachia so about fight of gods. It is a separate genre in the ancient Greek literature. Theomachia: the fights of gods until the formation of the world of gods on the Olympic, it is the fight between different generations of gods, which was finished by Zeus, but we are living in Zeus’ era, so Zeus’ power – if we understand it well – is always endangered. This is what we can see, I think, on the left side of the stage, in the back, that spiral staircase there, when a veiled figure is going up and down, which is a quote for me, of a Magritte picture, or by Endre Szász or by Dali. From another branch of art, but it is very appropriate, and it does not stop. He does not do anything, does not have contact with any on the stage, he is not in the text, in any situations, but he is there. And it gives me the creeps. Because when we are clapping, when it is over, he is still there. He is going on. This veiled figure is there in the background, with this cage on his head...so it is terrible but very very punctual.

Ilona Mélykuti, the moderator of the professional discussion:

Gyuri, you told that we do not need to understand everything in it. Is not it a kind of release for the director?

György Karsai:

No, it is not at all, because I think with which I have started, that it is a very philologist performance. That way the director convinces me, that he has watched everything. Here everything is really well measured. It is counted out not in centimetres but in hundredth of seconds. I have never seen such disciplined artistic movements and speech – when girls have to sing in choir – I was listening to it well, I would like to catch as they sign to each other, to know when they need to start, but there was nothing. Everything is worked out perfectly. Because of it, I think that if I do not understand anything from the performance, then that is my fault. It is not even a fault. That is what I would like to tell, that I do not need to understand it. It is good! Do not get it. A performance is good similarly to a good lesson in school, where they do not tell everything. We have to think it over. The child should go home and think about those things he has heard. Do not accept my explanations, but those things, which come up in him after it. It is much more important, than what I say, or what is on stage. Then tomorrow. By then we will find out what the performance becomes. It is similar to happiness. If people in it, he may not recognise that it is true. But when they sleep one after it, and remember it, the next day, then they realise, what was missing from it, but it has been so wonderful.

Ilona Mélykuti:

Was it so obvious to everybody that we do not need to understand everything of it?

István Nánay, critic:

I have worked a lot with the understanding of this performance, because I have given it to many of my classes to watch it. That way the students of the University of Theatre and Film Arts were working with it, there were drama teachers too, so the scale is quite wide, and they could hardy do anything with this performance. People usually watch performances with that attitude, with which you asked now. With the attitude that they have to understand everything in the performance. We teach them it, when we teach them performance analysis, they have to take care to the method how the different aspects of the performance are put together.

In case of such a complicated text and such a complicated performance, where there are so many different styles and quotes – as Gyuri has said - , it is very difficult to put things together, because there is no relationship of cause-and-effect but a very complicated one. Well, if Gyuri has mentioned this woman, who is going up and down, then it is an element of fine arts, another projection of time, and it is a spatial counterpoint at the same time, so everything works with multiple meaning.

I think that these can be understood, but we have to accept, that a type of theatre – that type which we do not like in Hungary very much – where the text does not tell everything, so we cannot decode everything immediately from it, force people to reread and re-watch it. That way, when I made people watch it again, many things – they got some viewpoints of course, to know what they have to watch more or less – have become understandable. As Gyuri has mentioned, many things live on inside and get into the right place, or at least find their place according to his own values and knowledge. I think we cannot understand perfectly even Hamlet when we watch it; however, we think we have all the keys to it. A theatre, which is working mainly with pictures, and voice, where action, space and colours dominate together, cannot be understood at once, we have to think them over. It is not sure that we will get one and true, valid solution. The director, of course, - I can prove it, because we have talked a lot about it – is very well-prepared from it, so he knows it well, as the actors do too. It can be felt from the fact that here everything is very punctual.

Erzsébet Bogácsi, critic:

I try to add other ideas to it, to state those points, which make this performance good, and then try to put in order those which have been told somewhere as examples, then what we could exactly see and finally that what could make this performance even better.

I think too that it is a very consciously made, artistry cared and talented performance. Obviously, it is because of the director, but he forms unity together with his colleagues. Unfortunately, during these debates we never have enough time to analyse the artistic performances too, so because we would run out of time, I would state, that the troupe make such a devoting and punctual work for which there are only a few examples in Hungarian theatres. Both the member of the troupe, from the main characters to the members of the choir, and the guest stars too, from Ilona Béres to Erzsébet Soltész. I would love to emphasize that without them it could not happen that way.

In advance I would like to draw attention to the fact, that we very rarely can see theatrical example which bravely differ from the psychologically realistic staging which is usual in Hungary, which choose a different way, and I welcome it.

What did happen in this performance? It starts with the text. Zoltán Balázs chose a text by Sándor Weöres, with which he felt that Hungarian staging had a debt. I do not think so, I think that Theomachia has literary values, but I think evidently, that any literary text can be suitable to make a performance with which the director has aim, can do something with. This was the case there too.

To talk about dramaturgy too. Do not go wrong, they do not only change the order of letters from time to time, there is a system of it too. The first and greatest changing is that they foreshadow the story at the beginning, as a vision of a dream, or better to tell, as a vision of a nightmare. Then the story begins. I understand it. Some colleagues have believed that it is not a fortunate solution, because there is a monologue in the original one, which gives verbal information, about which we have to know, but here it is built in a shown system, so we have to make efforts to make the story complete. I think it can make hard to follow the performance for some, but that way the direction can give a stylistic key, according to which we have to interpret the others.

Another bigger change comes in the end, when he gets text from Weöres’ poetry. Meanwhile there are those words backwards, but besides it sometimes just consonants can be heard, then just vowels, replicas are repeated, some replicas are told simultaneously, they told texts in canon, so there is a very serious system, how it has been built up.

I jump here, I try to go on with its musicality. What I have told there, what happens with the text, it leads to the musicality. It is partly based on the fact, that if there is a pure meter – I call it pure because it has lost its content – it gives alone the musical meaning of it, and the interpretation of the mood of words has a kind of mood too. Besides it there are whispers, cries, echoes and so on, these lead to musicality too. I think if I were László Sáry, I would be very happy to be able to compose music to this kind of performance, because it makes a perfect ground to his excellent music, which is built mostly on percussion instruments and singing. I think I would state most stressfully, that there is no speech neither in prose nor in singing, nether with music nor without it, which does not have any musicality in it, together with the mute signing too. Here this mute signing is a kind of movement too. The musicality of the movement is natural, as choreography is mostly built on music, why would it be differently here? That upright, square-shaped dance, which the Curates show at the beginning, that is as musical as when towards the end, at about the two-third of the performance, they do their choir dance too. Now I leave the nanny thing with purpose, I would like to mention it later from a different point of view.

The next one: the choreography is a sight too. The sight has a special feature too. The set and costume has value of fine arts too from the point of view that it does not just help to do situations and describe characters, but they always have a fine artistic value too as placed in the space. You have mentioned Rhea and Okeanos common act in that light corridor, but other examples can be mentioned there, maybe a very simple one too – which happens simultaneously inside Judit Gombár’s double action - , that she creates a space once then put red wigs into it as exclamation marks.

What can make it even better? Mysteriousness has been mentioned too. I would call it Hermeticism, as the aim is obvious too. It has even more elements, I do not think so mysterious the woman with the cage on her head, especially if I think of the baby-flame also in a cage on the other side of the stage, so they are not so hard to understand. The Boy has his small-dissociated personality, there are sound changings, who uses which sound, more of them play Rhea and so on. I think this last one has practical reasons too, as it is very interesting that somebody stops her speech here and then speak there the other side. Everything, which we appreciate so much and which can engage during the performance, that is its form, and this is the most important thing. I have doubts here. I do not get explanation why this performance has to be placed into this Eastern-like culture. I have an idea, but it has not turned out from the performance. I do not want to complain, of course, why the actors did not appear in Greek costume. I suppose that Zoltán Balázs looked for t a world, where he tried to perform the archaic with a far stranger. Then I would tell one thing, which breaks it a little bit. It is not useful to confuse us here in Europe, I feel a break there, when Typhon appears, and there are Japanese-like things there. This system breaks up there. I feel that it was peacefully functional until this part, so far the sight has brought those, which design is almost known from martial arts.

I have one more question, why do I say, that the form mostly affects me? I have watched this performance twice mostly with pure professional interest, in Budapest and here. Nobody has taken me emotionally. I was looking for it, I was waiting. Andrea Spolarics eyes were shining yesterday, I looked at her and turned out that it was just glitter on her eyelashes. Fortunately now I was sitting close to Ilona Béres and I managed to see that she did not have only glitter on her eyelashes, she did not have it on her lashes...so I would need to sit very near to see the little fallibility in her greatness; which could bring me close.

György Karsai has talked about similar things he has mentioned rhythm too. I would not examine them more, as it is not a rite built into a great system, but different things. If it is a rite, we may think about it because of its relation with stylization. Well, then use rite as a working hypothesis. I will finish in moments. How can a rite get closer to anybody? That they are the members of that community or they are in connection with its object. It must be solved somehow here, that I could become a part of it, and do not remain a viewer from outside. I suppose, I can become part of something when I recognise myself in them. Generally, we can recognise ourselves, when the form breaks up and I can see the human fragility and weakness.

I would like to repeat that it is a very talented performance, I would give it an award too. It is fantastic when somebody in his twenties put something like this on the table. That is all.

György Karsai:

I would give another context of the meaning of rite. The rite is theatre. I will be initiated, and I am waiting for it during any theatrical performance, that I would become somehow the part of those things, which are going on there. I used the word, rite with this meaning. From this point of view, I do not need to see the tears shining in the actor’s eyes. There are those types of performances where the actors’ immersion helps me to get closer, helps me get into the performance, but to be able to make me the part of this embodied rite is totally depend on the performance.

Erzsébet Bogácsi:

It is just a possibility to make tears shine. I can imagine very well, that I would identify with the characters.

György Karsai:

I identified with. I was Kronos. I was as beautiful as he was, yes I was. If we arrive there to the using of eastern theatre. I did not want to tell before, that what people thought about while watching Zoltán Balázs’ direction. I saw it first sometimes in the 80s in Ariane Mnouchkin’s direction in Agamemnon, where the choir did the same. In case of the Greek tragedies, it is always hard to do something with the choir, especially in case of Agamemnon, which needed a complex choir from one block. He made in his theatre twelve men in eastern-like dresses run around, jump up and down the walls, everywhere, and this eastern style could give something extra to make me live through the Greek things better too. For me the connection of different cultures to one another meant that, no more, I did not want to see an opera from Beijing in it, I did not miss the Greek side of the story, and it was made to be Greek as it was Hungarian, Chinese and Japanese and everything too. It was universal. The eternal reality of the story, that is universal.

Adrienne Csengery, the curator of the competition schedule:

In this performance, we can live through the birth of the Greek culture, as the whole European culture starts with this rite and story – as it is. Here we can experience the birth of art, which Zoltán Balázs emphasized by the solution, that he finished the performance with Sándor Weöres’ The drum and dance poem, which is a fantastic choice and fits perfectly to the whole play.

Erzsébet Sándor, journalist:

I would like to add, that if I thought myself to be a professional theatregoer, and something wanted to talk about the universe, it would not matter whether it was Indian, Chinese, Japanese or Greek. It does not matter, it simply about the universe. If Ilona Béres’ swirl does not get anybody from the auditorium, and could measure this performance from outside, through its tools, from the point of view of its form, and look at it coldly, then I am very sorry for you, Erzsi. I suppose I am heterosexual but after days, I have been still in love with Ilona Béres and I would recommend her the award of the best male performance. (Laugh and claps...)

Erzsébet Bogácsi:

Here one thing missed which I have signed before, that there was a part which touched me emotionally too. First, I would react on Ilona Béres. I said that I was happy to have sat closer yesterday, that way I could see, which touched me. This is one of them. I have foreshadowed that the Curates’ scene where they nurse the baby, was also close to people, of course. It is about the example when we can see human fallibility and weakness too.

Ilona Mélykuti:

Let us give the opportunity to Erzsi Bogács to feel that it did not get her that it left her or at least she remained far. Adrienne told that we are the moment of birth of European culture. It is worth a question that why would the birth of the European culture is carried out by the using of eastern culture and eastern rites, which are stranger to us. It is universal, it is true, but it can make viewers think that it breaks up in them or starts breaking up.

Gyula Sipos (France):

I would like to add three points to the question of Far East. First: I totally agree with György Karsai, that the metaphor of Far East can work well with that example he has mentioned, the example of Mnouchkine so the far-eastern alienation sometimes can highlight our situation, the Greek situation or the European or the Hungarian one. That would be one of them.

Second: in connection with the Far East again. I watched the performance as a theatre of world, as universal theatre, because the story is universal too: from the fall of the myth, from Uranos to Kronos, through Zeus to mankind (so mankind falls) and it points until the worldwide realization of mankind nowadays. I see it as a theatre of world, because there are different genres next to each other, they are mentioned as quotes, and a far-eastern quote fits there too. The third one is a pure reminder, a literary and biographical one, Sándor Weöres is between those Hungarian poets, who had personal experiences with the Far East, he translated many poems form the Far East, and he tried to suit his mentality to his own Zen Buddhist, Taoist ideas. We can find it weaker from philosophical point of view, but the Far East was an important part of his poetry and worldview, so it would be cheating if into this world drama this Far Eastern viewpoint can fix in.

Ilona Mélykuti:

Pista Nánay told right that it was not Greek, it was by Weöres. We have forgotten – I think all of us – that here we are talking about a play by Sándor Weöres. With it, he did not want to show the birth of the European culture only.

Adrienne Csengery:

Weöres is a universal poet, he brings the world onto our table with his poems and translations, however he did not speak any foreign languages. He spoke only German very bad. That way he translated everything from rough translations. It is good to know it. With his dramas, he was far ahead of his age. A lot more ahead, that is why he can be mysterious to us, who has got used to the psychological realist dramas and straight-lined stories. It is not that one. It is a rite. This –we can tell – takes us far from the topic, it does not illustrate, but demonstrates.

György Karsai:

Before we would go on, a philological data comes into my mind, which I would like to tell. Weöres wrote this play in 1938. In Hungary it was performed once, in 1971 in Szkéné Theatre, István Keleti directed it, and one of the performer of it is sitting there with us, she is Adrienne Csengery. (Silent giggle)

Ilona Mélykuti:

I would add one more sentence to that Erzsi told, she was in love with Ilona Béres for days. We would understand it. For me the fact that Kronos is played by a woman meant the asexuality in a way.

György Karsai:

I think we do not need to explain it. One critic told that the direction is Zsótér-like because of it. I do not think so. We do not need to explain it. Yes, Ilona Béres would be the best male performer this year.

Géza Hizsnyan, critic:

I go back a little bit to Erzsébet Bogácsi’s sense of lack. I think we agree that we could watch a perfect and very exciting performance. If somebody misses something I can accept it. I have missed a little bit too, maybe because not only those things made me think after it and the next day which you (Erzsébet Bogácsi) has mentioned, but there were two questions – one of them would be a key question according to me - , which caused some kind of problem for me. It is a brilliant idea, that they tell backwards a part of the text. It has incredible atmospheric power. Then it raised a question for me, if they had to tell the other texts understandably, and where would be the limit? It is a great question, where is the limit between the situations when I have to understand the text and where and when I do not have to, then why it has not been important? If this limit exists, and it is important, then the articulation have not been that understandable to make it clear to me too. Now if I divide it so well, that whether the audience understands it or not, that it leaves a question mark in me.

The other one is that I am not a musician, but I have a question, which I do not know. I felt Rhea’s first monologue, which she sang on pentatonic scale, a little bit forces, and then it has never returned in musicality. Than it is a big question that why is it so striking, but not hurtful, for my non-musician ears?

Zoltán Balázs, the director of the performance:

There is a Chinese proverb: “Do not touch the idols, the gilding remains on your hand!” I suppose, that if a performance – it can be anyone’s direction, with any actors - , needs to be explained, than I am not interested in it. I think that our work together with this troupe is continuous, we start it all over again after each performance, we always have rehearsals before them, but it will be always the same in front of you. I can place signs, I can place piles inside a performance, but the shipping-lane is filled by the audience – I believe in it.

It is not an accident, that I have started working with Sándor Weöres’ this work. I think it is that kind of challenge – for me, for the young director - , which I would wish for all of my mates. I simply think that young students on the university would need to work with plays like this. Sándor Weöres does not give any instruction. Neither furiously nor angrily, or even nicely, neither out, nor in, or up...- the play does not have these kind of instructions. All words need to be solved, this text shows us the whole story. From this point of view we can say, that it does not need to be put on stage. Why? Lilla Mikes can stand up on the Korona Pódium with a candle and tells it, and then it appears in front of me. Meanwhile I think that it is our task in connection with Sándor Weöres to connect words to this world, to give language to it. It cannot be done without a form. I think that form is not the enemy of content, and the content is not the enemy of form. I think we can miss the glittering in the actors’ play if they are disbelieving. I suppose that the most important thing is to create the belief of the direction inside the performance. It is a long process. It does not happen over one performance, over neither two nor three. It is a long-term journey, which I could obviously show in this phase. I hope that I still have some year to work and then we can move on.

It is a starting point for me I think to formulate that kind of language, to undertake it, which is based on meta-communicative signs. Not only on verbal things. I feel many times, that they cheat me in theatre, when they say angrily “I hate you”, or they say sensitively “I love you”. It is rare in life that people feel and tell the same thing. Many times they hide, deny, want to give other forms to it, and cannot stand it, it overflows, over floods them. For example in connection with Ilona Bares’ Kronos I was interested in this overflow. That a fragile, 63 years old woman plays a masculine ancient god with man-power, and the weakening of his power means effeminacy for me, and the same time everything else get stronger around him in the figure of a new order.

There is not any story. The story can be similar to everybody. It is not like a big family with many problems between them, conflict, they hate the neighbour, so they poison their dog...these things are not there. There is an old god simply, and there is a new one too. Then what will happen between the two characters, between the two idols, that is the serious exercise.

I am sorry. I have not thought that I would tell it, because...because, what I can see, that is there. If it exists, than this is there. If it is not there then we do not need to talk about it. Meanwhile for me it is very important that here is a phase, and I am happy that I could try it out, and I could meet Sándor Weöres.

There was one of Sándor Weöres’ relative, maybe his nephew, I am not sure, on one of our performance, and after it, he came to me and said: - Well, if Sándor had watched it, he would have been very happy, because it is he. We can believe it or not. I think that for Hungarian theatre it is very important to try to combine the diversity of arts. It is not sure that it will be successful, but we must think the other way around too. Not only those things can happen which we tell, step, put on us, but all these always have extra meaning involuntarily.

The Eastern world is a basic question in connection with Sándor Weöres. It is about the effort towards completeness – whether people can reach it or not – it is in it. It is there in each speechlessness and silence. To answer to your question (Géze Hizsnyan’s) that why the folk song is there? It is a mourning based on a “csángó” folk song. I suppose that our culture, the Hungarian culture, the European and the Easter one – they are all of us. From the cradle to the grave, we simply create the myth of birth through a mourning. Gaia’ folk dance is a Hungarian element. For me, it can be organic part of a Greek story, in which there are Eastern motifs too. I do not know how the Greeks played. I can imagine it, there are many information of it, but I do not know, I did not see it. I do not know, I just have some fantasy. This is the only treasure in theatre that is why it is worth making performances that fantasy can work when meet some creative people. I have great creative partners, I have to mention it. Thanks God I have the possibility to work with the same people for a while, hopefully for a long time – Judit Gombár, László Sáry. I must tell some words about Judit Góczán, because there is a huge dramatic work in this performance. Many times we do not get it, because who watch it for the first time, maybe cannot pay attention on it, but for example the meeting of Rhea and Okeanos, which happens on two beams of light, that is three following scenes in the original play. It becomes one here. Okeanos talks to Kronos and Rhea at the same time. It is an incredibly hard task to solve. We have to keep its truth, the personality has to be kept too, that three scenes have to happen at the same time, however they are one another in time. There are very hard things, and it is for example Judit Góczán’s merit.

There is another crazy man next to me, András Szöllősi, who made these movements with actors, who were not born to be dancers, they did not have any dancing training before. I suppose it can be very hard to make them that beside stepping from left to right, they can express themselves in some more complex, more grotesque, more complicated system of movements, and they find their belief and joy in it. I think it is a mosaic of my life, hopefully it is a mosaic in your lives too. Thank you for being there, that you have watched this thing – also in Sándor Weöres’ name. (Claps)

Adrienne Csengery:

Thank you, Zoltán Balázs, very much for this performance, for this experience. We understood it very differently then, but that was also watched by Sándor Weöres. I did not want to tell it, but I would like to finish this discussion with a joke, because we got very sad. The joke is: when priests still celebrated masses on Latin language, a woman in village left the church, clapped her hand and told, “we had a blessed priest, we did not understand even a word”.

Ilona Mélykuti:

A line came into my mind in the end: “Then deep silence floats, like a cold sound” – to stay by Sándor Weöres.

Ilona Mélykuti, POSZT.hu, 2004

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

Interview with Zoltán Balázs, theatre director and artistic director of Maladype Theatre, ahead of the premiere of Csongor and Tünde, which will be presented in the 54th season of the Gyula Castle Theatre.

Zoltán Balázs graduated from the drama department of the Horváth Mihály High School in Szentes in 1995. In 2003, he graduated from the University of Theatre and Film Arts with a degree in acting and directing in Miklós Benedek's class. His first production with Maladype Theatre was Eugene Ionesco's Jack or the Submission in 2001, when the theatre was just starting out. His latest Maladype production was Anton Pavlovich Chekhov's Three Sisters in 2017.

At the same time, you have already directed Eugene Ionesco again this year (The Lesson - University of Theatre and Film Arts). Do you like framed structures?

So much so that when I played Richard III here in Gyula on July 14, I realized that I had played Hamlet here on the exact same day 11 years ago.

That's right, you've encountered Shakespeare before in Gyula, as you were here for the 10th Shakespeare Festival in 2014 in connection with Macbeth/Anatomy, and in 2006 you played the title role in Tim Carroll's (artistic director of London's Globe Theatre) iconic production of Hamlet. This time you are not performing, but staging an expansive dramatic poem. Where did the idea for the adaptation of Csongor and Tünde come from? How can the story of the search for happiness be staged in a new way?

Only adventurous artists should be allowed to stage Vörösmarty's play; artists who are not interested in creating solutions, end results, or canonizable performances, but for whom the search for happiness itself is a kind of quest – a creative quest, or a reckoning with themselves. Where do I come from, where am I going, and who am I traveling with on this special, unique journey?

Could this reckoning have something to do with the fact that you turned 40 this year?

It has a lot to do with it, because a much-awaited period of my life is coming: those mature years, when the experiences I have accumulated over the past years can take me into new dimensions. The cosmology of Csongor and Tünde is extremely suitable for taking stock, as the encounter between the profane and sacred worldviews expressed in it is also relevant in our current world. This is accompanied by opportunities to meet rebellious directors, authors, actors, and audiences, from which a new self will emerge.

Your conscious departure from the canon has also influenced your previous productions. What is the reason behind this?

Irregularity is a very powerful driving force. Vörösmarty takes his characters through 11 stations in an incredibly precise, Dante-esque manner, in a cone-shaped structure. In my opinion, the two main units are Csongor's falling asleep and Tünde's "awakening." At the same time, the two roles are one; you cannot separate the outside from the inside, the here from the there, the above from the below. Balancing the points of tension is the noblest task. According to my concept, these levels are concentrated in one actress, Ágota Szilágyi, and my perspective tends to reinforce Tünde's story and role. The main point is not the lovers' pursuit of each other, although the search for this form of happiness is obviously present. Tünde's attitude generates an act of creation, which is realized in the image of Csongor. The fundamental question of the performance is therefore how a person finds themselves, how they become aware of their self-consciousness. The possibility of playing a dual role is not thought through in terms of male and female clothing or gender roles; the costume does not help the actor, whose inward journey, along a surface of intense concentration, draws in those watching the story and the transformation.

So, besides "irregularity," the other key word is "transformation"?

Yes, that's also a basic concept. A character doesn't just go from A to B, but through many selves to the essence, the realization of which—due to the struggle and suffering in between—is happiness itself. This, of course, has to do with love, as we often idealize the “one and only” throughout our lives, while they have been sitting right next to us all along, unnoticed, while life passed us by.

Although you are still young, you have already achieved a lot. You are the artistic director of Maladype Theatre, and in your training method “The Golden Bug-method”, you combine common, symbolic, and magical storylines with a new type of knowledge acquisition inspired by the work of Edgar Allan Poe. You draw parallels between the Self and the Other, the animus and the anima, the Woman and the Man, Csongor and Tünde. In what space and time can all this be imagined?

In an imaginary space, purely on an imaginary plane. The story is sufficiently multi-layered so that there is no need to focus on an actual space. Since I have been on every stage in Gyula, it was not a priority for the actors to run up and down, even though the castle has a natural atmosphere and is a very playable space. In addition, the audience only understands and feels the story quite vaguely. I don't mean it in a derogatory way, but we cannot expect them to be aware of every nuance. The primary task, therefore, is to tell them the story, with all its little tricks and refinements. The storylines are intertwined like a DNA spiral. I don't want to be didactic, but it is a fundamental directorial, professional, and primary intention to make the backbone of the story recognizable and followable, yet at the same time, I don't want to make it too easy for the audience by spoon-feeding them. I didn't want to include any unnecessary gimmicks—say, three ducks or nine frogs—because I don't like them, and what we find funny at first glance may not necessarily be funny to the audience. Even so, it will be exciting enough to untangle the threads of this play. I've been working on it for years, and I'm madly in love with this work.

If I’m not mistaken, it’s not your first time directing a play where the main character is a traveller.

Indeed, I've staged works that involve symbolic journeys, such as the works of Dante, Homer, and Goethe, so I'm not afraid that lyrical dramas lack dynamic storylines or a sequence of events. Csongor and Tünde also has countless stereotypes associated with it, and in a positive sense, a kind of silliness that offers some pressure to conform in the portrayal of the devil's sons, Tünde, Mirigy, and the three wanderers, but this is not the focus of my production.

Then what is?

Basically, that those who seek shall find, and this is also true of happiness; the charm lies in the journey itself, in the Madáchian sense. Therefore, it is not primarily the chronology, the identifiability of the characters, or analytical thinking that becomes important, but rather the cooperative interplay of the audience, the Gyula Castle Theatre, and the Maladype Theatre on the level of sensuality and perceptibility. I believe that so many emotional impulses will come together here that they will create a kind of tingling sensation in the audience.

Could you give us a little preview?

The program notes specify that László Sáry, winner of the Artisjus Prize, and fashion designer Anikó Németh worked with me on the production, with Andrea Lengyel as rehearsal pianist and Katalin Balázs as production manager. The cast features excellent performances by Ágota Szilágyi, Marianna Sipos, Erika Tankó, László Kéringer, János Fekete "Jammal," Viktória Denk, Zsigmond Bödők, Lóránd Bartha, and Eszter Balogh. Although Sáry also composes opera, the musical accompaniment in this piece follows a beatbox puzzle. The adaptation is absolutely not classical, but neither is it "fake contemporary", in the sense that it does not include eight movements at all costs in order to be abstract. I would certainly not use the words "strange" and "interesting" in connection with the performance, although Vörösmarty's original work is grotesque, cynical, ironic, and bizarre in many places. I tried to find the overlapping planes of thought by combining them in a total art puzzle, which ultimately and hopefully results in the harmony of the text, the visuals, the movement, and the opera music.

As director of Maladype Theatre, you have always strived for groundbreaking harmony and innovative productions. Your previous works are available on the theatre's website, which I highly recommend for further information, as it was named the best theatre website of the season in 2017 and received the award at the National Theatre Meeting in Pécs. Your current production is a collaboration with the Gyula Castle Theatre. Every year, there is more and more attention when you accept an invitation to stage a play. How did you receive this commission?

We try to meet all requests, as it is one of the basic tasks of the theatre to be audience-friendly, both in its performances and in its accessibility. If Marianna Varga hadn't approached me, my desire to stage this work might have lingered within me, but her timing was perfect, as “I have searched in every nation, / every land upon the earth, / for that infinitely rare / beauty, far beyond belief, / for the lady of my dreams.”[1] Thanks to this commission, I was able to do the reckoning and I felt ready to stage this play.

Thank you for this refreshing and informative, friendly conversation. I wish you every success with the play and, of course, in the future! During your stay here, I wish you and the company a pleasant time in Gyula!

Thank you for the opportunity. We look forward to seeing everyone at the play on August 11, 2017, at 8:30 p.m.!

Gyulai Hírlap, 2017

Translated by Lena Megyeri

[1] Mihály Vörösmarty: The Quest - Csongor and Tünde. Translated by Peter Zollman

We spoke with Zoltán Balázs, director of Maladype Theater, about success, finances, theatrical "predators," and, of course, their latest production, Three Sisters.

You graduated from the University of Performing Arts with degrees in both acting and directing. When did you feel that you wanted more than just acting?

I didn't feel that way. Miklós Benedek, who was the head of my class in the acting department, asked us at the end of the first year what we did when we weren't rehearsing. I replied that, for my own pleasure, I was writing an imaginary play based on the works of Fernando Pessoa, the Portuguese poet with multiple personalities. He asked me for the play and secretly gave it to Tamás Jordán, who was then the director of Merlin Theatre and a member of the board of the Portuguese-Hungarian Friendship Society. Tamás offered me the opportunity to stage it that summer with actors of my choice. "The Ancient Anxiety" was a success, and soon I found myself at the entrance exam of the directing department, where the teachers on the committee asked me why I wanted to be a director. I replied that I actually wanted to be an acrobatic clown, so we talked about the circus for forty minutes. Then they accepted me. In short, it is thanks to the "conspiracy" of Miklós Benedek and Tamás Jordán that I became a director. I never thought about founding a theatre company.

In the end, you became an actor and director, and you have been the artistic director of Maladype Theatre since 2001. What are some of the tasks you have to perform outside of your creative work?

As the director of Maladype, together with my colleagues, I have to ensure the conditions necessary for day-to-day operations—the right rehearsal conditions, financing and logistics for our performances, programs, and domestic and international guest performances—in other words, our survival, and that is no easy task. An important part of securing our annual budget of 50-55 million forints is the grant application for operational costs, which unfortunately has increasingly disappointing results every year.

Do you understand finance?

More and more. I've had to learn a lot of things over the past few years. Organization, communication, strategy development and re-planning. It's been very useful, but I only have this extra knowledge because we are constantly faced with the question of whether we will be able to start the next season.

How far ahead can you see?

Until the opening night of our production of Three Sisters. But that's only because we were just able to raise the necessary funds from private donors. Our operating budget ran out at the end of January. I think it's nonsense that we won't know until the end of spring what our budget will be for the 2017/2018 season.

How long can you keep working like that?

As long as my sense of humour doesn't fail me and my team stands by me. As long as our goals are shared causes. It's true that most of my mental capacity is focused on securing the financial resources necessary to survive and to continue producing high-quality artistic work, and that consumes a lot of energy.

However, these efforts pay off, as you have had tremendous success, not only at the company's base in Mikszáth Square – where, in addition to performances, a series of multidisciplinary arts programs also takes place – but also in other places from the Átrium Film-Theatre in Budapest to the United States. In addition to your directing work, you can be seen as an actor in Sándor Zsótér's production of Richard III, and before that you performed a one-person manifesto, "I Choose Freedom", based on Victor Kravchenko's life. You hold workshops and work with young students at the University of Theatre and Film Arts.

After the International Bartók Seminar and Festival, we took László Sáry's short opera "Great Sound in the Rush" on a national tour, then to Vienna for the Theatermusiktage Wien festival, and most recently to Geneva for the Théátré Saint-Gervais, where we performed it in co-production with the Qaartsiluni Ensemble.

“Great Sound in the Rush” also received the Artisjus Award for Classical Music Composition of the Year in 2016. Katalin Gabnai published a seven-page study on this performance in this spring's issue of GRAMOFON.

Indeed, László Sáry's "half-serious" opera brought about a fortunate encounter for the creators, the performers, the audience, and the critics alike. In addition, my 2016 Chicago production of Matei Visniec's “How to Explain the History of Communism to Mental Patients” will be coming to Budapest in early June as part of an international tour. Fortunately, we are often invited abroad: Maladype Theatre is known and loved. We have also successfully completed the cross-border tour of Viktor Kravchenko's one-man manifesto, I Chose Freedom.

You returned to acting with this play after several years.

Tim Carroll's Hamlet at the Bárka Theatre brought me tremendous revelations. I could feel what it meant to be the driving force behind a performance based on truly free and courageous acting. I found this again in the Kravchenko material. Workshops have always been an integral part of my work. Most recently, I held a theatre workshop in Vienna entitled The Golden Bug-method for participants in an international festival, and I also took on a course in János Meczner's class at the University of Theatre and Film Arts in Budapest. I also staged Sullivan's Mikado as a puppet opera with his former students. Now we are working on Ionesco's absurd play The Lesson every night.

Your production of the Three Sisters, which will have its premiere in April, is based on a very interesting concept.

It will be a special performance because my creative partners and I, together with the actors, will realize each scene of Chekhov's play in the style of a different painter from the Renaissance to the present day. We dedicate the performance to the memory of set and costume designer Judit Gombár, with whom I had a defining relationship for many years. Sadly, she passed away last year.

Why Chekhov? Why Three Sisters?

Few plays are suitable for this kind of play with metamorphosis, but Three Sisters is a story of great transformation. The first act is rebirth itself, the humanistic Renaissance. The second is the Baroque, Mannerism, the third is avant-garde art, and the fourth is a perfect reflection of contemporary visual art endeavours. We are preparing for another assault on theatrical traditions, which has already become our trademark.

At Maladype Theatre, even the read-through differs from theatrical traditions.

Indeed, at the read-through, the actors do not yet know which role they will play in the final performance. We read the play several times and everyone reads several roles, so that the actors eventually make the whole story their own and deal with the problems of several characters parallelly. Before I announce the cast I have decided on, they come up with their own. This is extremely interesting because it reveals how they see themselves and each other. There are usually many surprises at this stage.

When you invite guest artists from outside the company, such as Erzsébet Kútvölgyi in the recent production of Dada Cabaret, how do you choose them?

There are "predatory" actors, such as Ilona Béres, Mari Törőcsik, Andrea Ladányi, László Sinkó, and Zsolt László, and it is a privilege and a joy to be around them and work with them. We have wanted to work with Erzsébet for 15 years, since the premiere of "The School for Fools", but only now have I found an "exotic" role for her that I could invite her to play as a guest. She plays Lenin with elemental force in our performance of Dada Cabaret.

Who else would you like to work with?

Éva Almási.

Returning to the picturesque styles of Three Sisters: if you were a painting, who would paint you?

Perhaps Simon Hantai. His works are characterized by wonderful forms and layers of paint, which are both cosmic and deeply human.

Georgina Helyes, kozonseg.hu, 2017

Translated by Lena Megyeri

On April 8, Maladype Theatre presented Chekhov's drama, Three Sisters for the first time, which will next be performed on April 20 at Maladype Base. The premiere was an unprecedented undertaking in theatre history: director Zoltán Balázs staged each scene of the play in a different painter's style. We spoke with the director of Maladype before the unusual opening night about this exciting experiment, the timely issues raised by Three Sisters, and the revolutionary ideas that the theatre represents both in Hungary and abroad: humanity, kindness, and love.

When you played Tuzenbach in Three Sisters at the Bárka Theatre, did you already start thinking about how you would stage the drama, or did the idea for the performance you are currently working on come from a completely different source?

The question comes as a surprise, because I haven't thought about it until now. However, I clearly remember that when we were rehearsing the aforementioned production, directed by the world-famous Romanian director Catalina Buzoianu, I noticed some strange things in my surroundings. Several different acting and theatrical tastes collided in the cast, but the production was unable to muster enough integrative energy to forge this diversity of styles into a unified whole. A few years earlier, Catalina Buzoianu had staged Bulgakov's visionary work "Flight" with great success at the Bulandra Theatre in Bucharest, which she screened at the read-through for the cast of Three Sisters so that we could get a feel for and understand the essence of the bold, extreme acting style based on symbols, specific movements, and gestures that was evident in that performance. However, during the screening, my colleagues began to leave the room, and only a few of us watched the recording to the end. Evidently, there was very little interest in a production that was not based on Stanislavski's principles. I thought that I could learn a lot from this icon of Romanian theatre, so, taking the director's idea seriously, I set myself the task of playing Tuzenbach as a one-legged tin soldier, both literally and symbolically, whose "ballerina" (in allusion to Andersen's fairy tale) is Irina. I only put my foot down when Tuzenbach's last line was spoken: "I haven't had any coffee today." Gabriella Varga, who played Irina, was a great partner in this game, so we existed as completely separate islands within the performance. Our colleagues looked at us as if we were Martians, but this theatrical approach remains a defining and important experience for me, in contrast to everything that previous adaptations of Chekhov represented with their props and nostalgic, sentimental style of acting. However, the most joyful gift of the rehearsal process was the friendship I formed with László Sinkó, who played Tchebutikin. In the most noble and playful sense of the word, we saw each other as "scoundrels," and, trusting each other, we began to talk about many things and think together. Later, we had several opportunities to work together again: I invited him to collaborate with Maladype, and I also cast him as Bosola in “The Duchess of Malfi”, a performance for which, in my opinion, he should have received every professional award.

If not from the past, then where does the inspiration for the current Three Sisters production come from?

I think that everything Three Sisters is about—identity, the search for values, the redefinition of values, the dilemma of changing values—are very timely issues. Where do people come from and where are they going? What is genetically encoded in them, and what do they bring with them from home? What are they able to understand and incorporate into their own thinking from their immediate or wider environment? What influence can we exert on others, and what influences do we allow ourselves to be touched by? Starting from a clarification and rethinking of values, the genre of the performance became a "metamorphosis game", a visual play based on transformation. This is a truly extravagant experiment, the likes of which have never been seen on stage before: each scene is staged in a different painter's style, from the icon painters of the 1200s to the street art of today. The audience can thus observe the story and the actors not only in their processes but also in different phases, revealing unexpected, unusual emphases in the different roles—depending on whether we approach a scene in the style of Ghirlandaio, Jan van Eyck, Rubens, Chagall, or Magritte. It is particularly exciting to discover what the identity or difference between body and soul means in a certain pictorial composition; how perspective, the relationship between the individual and the crowd, and many other recurring motifs known from painting or theatre culture appear. In the visual arts, all creators have strived to further develop what is important and valuable to them from previous insights or endeavors, but only very few have succeeded in creating something radically new. When this did happen, another "dreadful dreamer" soon appeared who overrode it: overdid it, overplayed it, or minimized it. To me, in this way, Chekhov's play is also about the relationship between life and creation, where the Prozorov sisters are not saints and victims at all, but rather monsters who destroy everyone around them. If they do not fulfil the predetermined process, which is fuelled by their paternal heritage, the Prozorov spirit, the vast amount of superfluous knowledge referred to as the "sixth finger," and the tension that the age does not understand and accept them, they will never reach their true essence. Like Tivadar Csontváry Kosztka, Simon Hantai, or Lili Ország, every true creator can only reach some kind of inner light, the much-desired Moscow, by peeling away layers and breaking down walls.

Was it specifically Three Sisters that was so organically suited to this kind of "picturesque" staging, or could you have adapted another play in the same way?

I thought about this a lot. During rehearsals, I constantly had eureka moments and shouted with joy, because it was as if Chekhov had written the drama with this specific intention. The entire first act is about the Renaissance and humanism, the glorification of man. The second act is all about the Baroque, Mannerism, Romanticism, and Realism: Natasha walking around with a candle, Andrei withdrawing into himself, strange situations hiding strange secrets and generating increasingly complex relationships. The third act is about avant-garde art: fire engulfs the estate and the entire city, and everyone is also burning in a symbolic sense; futurism and other "-isms" also fit perfectly into the visions of the future that are outlined. The fourth act is the fragmented, crumbling, disintegrating, mosaic world of contemporary art, led by the surrealists, who placed our way of seeing on completely new foundations. Three Sisters fits perfectly into the game of "fine art as metamorphosis," and vice versa. When I played Hamlet at the Bárka Theatre, directed by Tim Carroll, Tim and I were often asked if another play could have been performed in the same improvisational way that we staged the now legendary performance. We both said no. Based on previous adaptations and my own reading, Three Sisters is perfectly suited to staging my specifically "picturesque" ideas in every flavour and segment, but I don't think the same content-form game could be done with another play. In connection with our previous production, Dada Cabaret, I stated that I felt the need to clear out the clutter. Sensing the troubled spirit of our age, I would add that there is also a kind of creative need to reorder values. We need to articulate where we come from, where we are going, and what intellectual and spiritual relics we carry with us. Different pictorial perspectives are also independent worldviews, whose interaction with each other is indisputable, making them the freest and most wide-ranging fields for associative play. And we, who look at them intertwined, say: there is something valid in each of these ideas, so today, for us, they are most authentic in their interrelationships or contexts. The story of the three sisters may be interesting in relation to Natasha, the role of men in relation to women, and the Prozorov legacy in relation to the Protopopov line, since nothing can transcend itself except in the interplay of relationships. Maladype has always been known for its demanding experimentation with variability, and this is no different in the case of Three Sisters.

How can all this be achieved in practice in the spaces of the Maladype Base? I ask this with particular regard to the fact that you also designed the set for this performance.

The performance pays tribute to the memory of set and costume designer Judit Gombár, with whom I had the good fortune to work for ten productive years. She was a tremendous artist of transformation. She taught me that nothing is impossible: if a valuable idea is formulated, sooner or later its form will reveal itself, even if this involves a great deal of sacrifice, redesign, or transformation. There is no wasted energy, only energy that inspires this transformation. Judit Gombár's intellectual legacy greatly influenced the form chosen for the performance and the way it was executed. The kind of "intellectual ping-pong" we engaged in while working together was so free, bold, and creative that after her death, I couldn't find a creative partner like her, even though I also searched among the younger generation. After a while, I realized that it was much easier to design the stage myself, especially since I can only direct if I can see exactly how the space, the actors, and the events are connected. Fortunately, I found a wonderful architect, Ágnes Czirják, with whom I had the opportunity to work on Dada Cabaret and now on Three Sisters. She understands my thinking perfectly and is able to translate everything I imagine into numbers, dimensions, proportions, and materials. Chekhov's Three Sisters is forced into increasingly confined spaces over the course of four acts, so we had to think carefully about what kind of very simple structure, or in other words, "spatial creature," would suit our financial conditions and possibilities, one that would not hinder the actors' performances, but would help the continuous transformation and the audience's revelations with small scenic tricks. This performance could not have been created without extensive and thorough knowledge of the visual arts. Is prior knowledge necessary to appreciate it? I don't think extra cultural knowledge is necessary, but it certainly doesn't hurt if someone has seen at least one Botticelli or Caravaggio painting in their life; it also helps if they recognize Leonardo's The Last Supper. But even if you don't have any of that, the situation, the power of the characters' presence, and the picturesque-dramatic context will create the truth of the situation. Of course, it matters where the author, the director and the actors place their emphasis during the performance. For example, Solyony's hand has a very different meaning in the world of Rubens or Picasso. Talking about what love is in the style of Veronese, Velázquez, or Vermeer also requires different solutions and acting presence. It is a sensual play in every respect: intellectually, emotionally, and physically. For this wide-ranging play, Mari Benedek's minimalist, imaginative, and multifunctional costumes are indispensable. Unfortunately, Maladype does not have the financial resources to allow the actors to change costumes at every twist and turn, yet new worlds must be created from scene to scene. It matters whether someone wears a Stuart collar or appears with a pouffe, as in Pál Szinyei Merse's painting Woman in Lilac, or walks in a hoop skirt like a lady intoxicated by lavender in a Gainsborough painting. These are serious challenges, but the creative team and the cast are so inventive and determined that they managed to achieve all this on time, with lots of ideas and imagination, as well as economically.

Chekhov himself gives some instructions in the play regarding the colours of the costumes and clothes. Did you stick to these colours?

Of course. For example, at Natasha's first appearance. Her character is deliberately the only odd one out in our production, as we thought through her transformations not in terms of painting styles, but in terms of fashion. She defines herself and her success through fashion. Her appearance sometimes contrasts with the scene's painterly style, sometimes blends in with it, reinforcing her chameleon-like nature.

At the beginning of rehearsals, you issued a press release stating that the performance was "an attack on theatrical traditions.". Does this refer to what we have discussed so far?

Yes. Neither the original nor the now somewhat deformed and worn-out Stanislavski method is present in this performance; none of our actors are "acting the Stanislavski way." On the contrary, the tempo is very tight, the different intentions have to be well modulated, and the rhythm and tone of the lines and scenes with different characters have to be precisely timed. One is sultry and full-bodied, the other agitated and staccato. Incidentally, we don't want to perform the play only at Maladype Base: the opening night will be there, but the goal is to move it to a larger theatre space where at least 150-200 people can see it each evening. It has already happened in the history of theatre that a certain painter, style, work, or way of thinking and seeing has determined the overall picture of a performance, but no one has ever been crazy enough to stage each scene of a play in the style of a different painter. Previously, I had only worked this way with the actors of Maladype during rehearsals for Platonov. Now I have matured in my desire, my knowledge, and everything else necessary for this daring and risky endeavour.

Apart from the upcoming premiere, there has been a lot of good news about Maladype lately: several of your performances, such as “Great Sound in the Rush”, have made it onto the international stage. How was the play received?

We recently visited Switzerland with our performance of Great Sound in the Rush, which we have already presented in numerous locations both at home and abroad. László Sáry's "semi-serious opera" has attracted enormous attention and recognition among audiences, regardless of age and cultural background. During our guest performance in Switzerland, I saw proof that nothing can replace the human factor. In front of the elitist Swiss audience, I was struck by the fact that they too are hungry for the most modern, revolutionary ideas, which are humanity, kindness, and love. These are the most progressive ideas today because they are missing from our world. When, thanks to a performance, the audience can rediscover these ideas, it reinforces my belief that the goal of art, culture, and theatre is to somehow abstract our everyday reality and place it in a new dimension. We experienced this from Ghent to Vienna, and everywhere else where Great Sound in the Rush or any of our other plays were performed. Ignoring the human factor turns the whole plan into a tragic waste.

How can the theatre's next season be planned now, before the results of the grant application for independent theatres are announced?

The uncertainty that comes with it is part of our lives. Every year, the period before and after the announcement of the results of the grant application for operational costs is a serious challenge. At this stage of the year, every theatre already knows what budget it will be working with, who it will invite, and what plays it will stage in the next season. We have no idea what and how we are able to plan. It's a completely impossible situation, even though we belong to the handful of groups within the independent scene that are still alive and working. This company has eighteen years of serious achievements behind it, both at home and abroad, so I have no idea what else we would need to prove in order to be able to offer our employees a more stable and predictable working environment. I would like to stay away from the milieu where decisions about our future are made, but I cannot and do not want to put down the responsibility for my company, because those who work at Maladype lend their nervous system, their time, and their energy every day to the creation of shared values. When it comes to evaluating our operating grant application, it seems that neither our successes, nor our development, nor the maintenance and operation of our permanent venue are given sufficient weight. Last year, we received 18 million forints for one year, and this year we can only hope that we will be awarded at least that much. To ensure our annual operation, we need to raise three times that amount, 55 million forints. Of course, I could close the theatre, generating some disaster tourism before we sink into oblivion, but I am convinced that there was, is, and still can be much more value and potential in everything we represent. Personally, I could come and go as I please in the world—as a director, I have accepted two invitations abroad for the next season: one to Washington D.C., and the other to Bucharest—but Maladype, the child we raised together with the actors, colleagues, and audience, still means a lot to many people. The audience knows us, loves us, and keeps coming back to see us. In a sense, Three Sisters is also about these questions of value, these shifting emphases. Sometimes I feel as if I have been swept away from the shore by the current. I am still swimming, keeping my head above the water and keeping pace, but my arms are getting harder and harder to move. I try not to lose my sense of humour and to remain true to myself and to the ideas that hold the company of Maladype together.

The company’s history so far shows that no matter how hopeless the situation seems, there is always a next season.

Yes, at this point we are spoiling things a little, because many people think that no matter how hopeless the situation is, we will solve it anyway. This is thanks to our perseverance, our sense of belonging, and our colleagues and private donors who love our theatre and provide the minimum necessary for our ongoing work, even from under the ground. But this is really only enough for survival; infrastructure development is out of the question under these circumstances. If I could devote all the tremendous energy that is consumed by ensuring the bare necessities for my creative colleagues to our professional development, we would be in a different place artistically. Instead, we have no idea what the future holds. Right now, Maladype's characteristic exploratory, daring, and creative play is our inspiration: so much creative energy and knowledge come together in the spirit of curiosity that it is still worth taking on the difficulties. It would be nice if others would notice and support this—even if we don't ask for it.

Verasztó Annamária, origo.hu, 2017

Translated by Lena Megyeri