“I am an eagle!”
Zoltán Balázs, artistic director of the Maladype Theatre, agrees with the world-famous Japanese novelist and playwright Yukio Mishima, who stated in the mid-20th century that the time has come for artists to return to art. We spoke with the founder of the unique theatre workshop, which came of age last year, in connection with their new production, Yvonne.
– Witold Gombrowicz’s absurd drama already demands a particularly open creative and receptive attitude, but as a director you went even further by making the audience the absolute protagonist: the silent Yvonne, whose mere presence disrupts the refined façade-life of the royal court, is played each time by a randomly selected spectator. Has the boundary between the two sides of the stage disappeared completely?
– This is not the first time we have experimented with this form of “crossing boundaries.” Since the beginning, our company has considered it important for the audience to play an active role in both our performances and rehearsals. In 2005 — for the first time in Hungary — we also undertook to open the entire rehearsal process of King Ubu to people interested in our creative methods. Thus, from the first table read to the premiere, fifty people each evening could experience firsthand how we collectively grappled with Jarry’s challenge. How the complex textual structures were organized through the creative play of our actors, where those already glowing moments disappeared to, and what additional abilities were needed to rediscover them. I could also mention Leonce and Lena, where the audience could choose that evening’s variations from a hundred scenes, while our actors selected the evening’s Leonce and Lena. Since we have always regarded the audience as equal creative and performing partners, with Yvonne we ventured even further.
– You staged Yvonne with the young actors with whom, two years ago, you embarked on a rather unusual experiment: after creating Bruno Schulz’s August together with the graduating class of the University of Târgu Mureș, you brought them to Budapest, where they are now participating in a three-year theatre methodology program tailored to their generation. What exactly is the method you developed under the name FIVE GATES?
– The FIVE GATES program is a kind of proposal package for the renewal of theatrical art. The most important task of this theatre-methodology experiment — which aims to “rewire” the nervous system of theatre — is to free theatre from those false reflexes and blocked creative processes that, over the past decades, have embedded traditionalism into the structure itself while also appointing their own “protective” theatrical overseers. These people no longer seek a personal relationship with theatre — merely the illusion of one...
– Meanwhile, the creative forces of the genre are slowly being devoured by the destructive influence that allows theatre to be used and exploited in the name of selfish interests, political goals, and business considerations. Is there any place at all for politics in art?
– Day-to-day politics certainly has no place in it. I think we should take Mishima’s statement from the mid-1960s seriously: It is time for artists to return to art! We should try to bring theatre back closer to the society of everyday life — to people, to audiences.
– Are many people capable of doing that?
– I think many are, but only a few make their voices heard, because true greatness does not boast of its talent or put itself on display. The defining artists I had the privilege to work with, both in Hungary and abroad, were modest and humble. They understood that courage also includes moderation, and that a courageous person knows what they want to achieve, what tools they possess, and for what purpose they step into action. Thus, when their profession came under attack, they responded with extraordinary professionalism, but also passionately and in solidarity. What would be worth learning from them is how to present one’s opinion in the proper tone. Our theatrical community should be spared the militant and accusatory tone of self-appointed prophets and the dominance of arbitrarily imposed standards of conformity.
– Originally you started out as an actor, then became a director and, by chance, the leader of a company. How easy is it, as “the most independent among independents,” “admirably solitary,” as Péter Molnár Gál once described you, to keep Maladype alive for almost two decades?
– The fact that we are still alive and able to work is itself a miracle. Especially considering that last year, due to the negligence of our neighbors, we had to leave our “base” at Mikszáth Square, where the sets, costumes, and props of our repertory productions were also destroyed. The three pillars of our survival are: strong internal belonging, the support of various patrons, and numerous invitations to international festivals. To relate openly and generously to change means for us not allowing conformity born of reduction to triumph. Strong support for this extreme undertaking comes from the creative relationships we have built within the Hungarian and international theatre scene, as well as the continually renewed attention of the international theatre world toward our work. It is a great joy and recognition that one day we may perform in Vietnam and the next in Albania, yet it creates a strange situation that we perform more around the world than at home. Although many people in Hungary are proud of us and recognize our role in strengthening diplomatic relations, to this day we still have neither predictable funding nor a permanent venue. Our company was hosted by the Fészek Artists’ Club for the 2019/20 season, for which we are very grateful, but if we could find a permanent venue worthy of our needs, we could perform a hundred times more often for Hungarian audiences.
– There has been debate for years around support for independent theatre companies. Most recently, Attila Vidnyánszky proposed establishing three or four so-called incubator houses and allocating the state funding intended for independents to them, so that they could distribute it among themselves at their own discretion. Is that not a solution either?
– Certainly not for us. Within this country’s independent sphere, there are five or six companies that have already achieved enough to deserve permanent, priority funding. These theatre workshops, with their serious history and accomplishments, are named by the curators every year during the evaluation of operational grant applications. Yet nothing happens. For young emerging artists, the future incubator houses will surely provide excellent opportunities for creation and visibility, where they can prove themselves according to their knowledge, talent, and resilience. It is important that they be able to apply for projects, receive a basic framework for their ensemble ambitions, and eventually demonstrate what kind of artistic and operational strategy they can establish, how they envision leading their developing company, and whether they possess a long-term artistic concept or the human resources behind it. That is why I believe incubator houses are for emerging talents — not for me or other recognized artists like me, who, in terms of professional background, are at a very different stage. As for the suggestion that Maladype should also move into an incubator house, I can only respond with what the actress Irén Psota once said when a theatre director called to offer her the role of a pigeon seller. Irén listened silently, then shouted into the phone: “Listen here, I am not a pigeon seller — I am an eagle!” Maladype and I are eagles too! Our flight requires space, a horizon, and air.
Anita Farkas, Demokrata, 2020
translated by: Zsuzsanna Juraszek
– Witold Gombrowicz’s absurd drama already demands a particularly open creative and receptive attitude, but as a director you went even further by making the audience the absolute protagonist: the silent Yvonne, whose mere presence disrupts the refined façade-life of the royal court, is played each time by a randomly selected spectator. Has the boundary between the two sides of the stage disappeared completely?
– This is not the first time we have experimented with this form of “crossing boundaries.” Since the beginning, our company has considered it important for the audience to play an active role in both our performances and rehearsals. In 2005 — for the first time in Hungary — we also undertook to open the entire rehearsal process of King Ubu to people interested in our creative methods. Thus, from the first table read to the premiere, fifty people each evening could experience firsthand how we collectively grappled with Jarry’s challenge. How the complex textual structures were organized through the creative play of our actors, where those already glowing moments disappeared to, and what additional abilities were needed to rediscover them. I could also mention Leonce and Lena, where the audience could choose that evening’s variations from a hundred scenes, while our actors selected the evening’s Leonce and Lena. Since we have always regarded the audience as equal creative and performing partners, with Yvonne we ventured even further.
– You staged Yvonne with the young actors with whom, two years ago, you embarked on a rather unusual experiment: after creating Bruno Schulz’s August together with the graduating class of the University of Târgu Mureș, you brought them to Budapest, where they are now participating in a three-year theatre methodology program tailored to their generation. What exactly is the method you developed under the name FIVE GATES?
– The FIVE GATES program is a kind of proposal package for the renewal of theatrical art. The most important task of this theatre-methodology experiment — which aims to “rewire” the nervous system of theatre — is to free theatre from those false reflexes and blocked creative processes that, over the past decades, have embedded traditionalism into the structure itself while also appointing their own “protective” theatrical overseers. These people no longer seek a personal relationship with theatre — merely the illusion of one...
– Meanwhile, the creative forces of the genre are slowly being devoured by the destructive influence that allows theatre to be used and exploited in the name of selfish interests, political goals, and business considerations. Is there any place at all for politics in art?
– Day-to-day politics certainly has no place in it. I think we should take Mishima’s statement from the mid-1960s seriously: It is time for artists to return to art! We should try to bring theatre back closer to the society of everyday life — to people, to audiences.
– Are many people capable of doing that?
– I think many are, but only a few make their voices heard, because true greatness does not boast of its talent or put itself on display. The defining artists I had the privilege to work with, both in Hungary and abroad, were modest and humble. They understood that courage also includes moderation, and that a courageous person knows what they want to achieve, what tools they possess, and for what purpose they step into action. Thus, when their profession came under attack, they responded with extraordinary professionalism, but also passionately and in solidarity. What would be worth learning from them is how to present one’s opinion in the proper tone. Our theatrical community should be spared the militant and accusatory tone of self-appointed prophets and the dominance of arbitrarily imposed standards of conformity.
– Originally you started out as an actor, then became a director and, by chance, the leader of a company. How easy is it, as “the most independent among independents,” “admirably solitary,” as Péter Molnár Gál once described you, to keep Maladype alive for almost two decades?
– The fact that we are still alive and able to work is itself a miracle. Especially considering that last year, due to the negligence of our neighbors, we had to leave our “base” at Mikszáth Square, where the sets, costumes, and props of our repertory productions were also destroyed. The three pillars of our survival are: strong internal belonging, the support of various patrons, and numerous invitations to international festivals. To relate openly and generously to change means for us not allowing conformity born of reduction to triumph. Strong support for this extreme undertaking comes from the creative relationships we have built within the Hungarian and international theatre scene, as well as the continually renewed attention of the international theatre world toward our work. It is a great joy and recognition that one day we may perform in Vietnam and the next in Albania, yet it creates a strange situation that we perform more around the world than at home. Although many people in Hungary are proud of us and recognize our role in strengthening diplomatic relations, to this day we still have neither predictable funding nor a permanent venue. Our company was hosted by the Fészek Artists’ Club for the 2019/20 season, for which we are very grateful, but if we could find a permanent venue worthy of our needs, we could perform a hundred times more often for Hungarian audiences.
– There has been debate for years around support for independent theatre companies. Most recently, Attila Vidnyánszky proposed establishing three or four so-called incubator houses and allocating the state funding intended for independents to them, so that they could distribute it among themselves at their own discretion. Is that not a solution either?
– Certainly not for us. Within this country’s independent sphere, there are five or six companies that have already achieved enough to deserve permanent, priority funding. These theatre workshops, with their serious history and accomplishments, are named by the curators every year during the evaluation of operational grant applications. Yet nothing happens. For young emerging artists, the future incubator houses will surely provide excellent opportunities for creation and visibility, where they can prove themselves according to their knowledge, talent, and resilience. It is important that they be able to apply for projects, receive a basic framework for their ensemble ambitions, and eventually demonstrate what kind of artistic and operational strategy they can establish, how they envision leading their developing company, and whether they possess a long-term artistic concept or the human resources behind it. That is why I believe incubator houses are for emerging talents — not for me or other recognized artists like me, who, in terms of professional background, are at a very different stage. As for the suggestion that Maladype should also move into an incubator house, I can only respond with what the actress Irén Psota once said when a theatre director called to offer her the role of a pigeon seller. Irén listened silently, then shouted into the phone: “Listen here, I am not a pigeon seller — I am an eagle!” Maladype and I are eagles too! Our flight requires space, a horizon, and air.
Anita Farkas, Demokrata, 2020
translated by: Zsuzsanna Juraszek