What you have right now is all you have
As soon as he sits down, he immediately orders a “Zoli coffee”, of which only the attentive barista of Caffe Zappa knows the exact ingredients. Actor and director Zoltán Balázs has been running the Maladype Theatre, highly regarded by critics and audiences alike, for a decade and a half. He has already achieved a great deal, but he has never stopped experimenting and searching for new paths. Among many other things, this is perhaps Maladype's greatest attraction to this day. The interview reveals the difference between Hungarian and American actors and how the rehearsal process is more important than the performance itself. Zoltán Balázs plays the title role in Shakespeare's Richard III, directed by Sándor Zsótér, at the Maladype Base on Mikszáth Kálmán Square from May 18.
Maladype Theatre celebrates its 15th anniversary this year. Was it harder to run an independent theatre company in 2001 than it is today?
It has never been easy to operate in the independent sector. If someone decides to establish a theatre company, their most important task is to always be several steps ahead of the daily tasks and events. This is more difficult today than it was a decade and a half ago, as those who should support our work on the basis of its value underfund us and do not stand by us in the spirit of predictability or reliability. If I didn't have good company around me, a strong sense of belonging and a sense of humour, I would have given up long ago. Somehow, I always believed that the growing intellectual value of independence and the profound relationship with creation would, over time, represent great capital for the entire Hungarian theatre culture, and perhaps we would have greater support behind us, but the opposite is happening. Funding opportunities are more limited than ever, and the amounts needed for annual operations are decreasing dramatically year by year.
How did the history of Maladype start?
In the summer of 2001, Serbian producer Dragan Ristic approached several Hungarian directors with the idea of creating a bilingual (Roma and Hungarian) performance integrating both Roma and non-Roma actors. Many found the idea interesting, but also too exotic and risky. Although they did not take him up on his offer, they pointed out to Ristic that there was a "hell-bent" guy at the University of Theatre and Film Arts who would certainly be interested. That was me. I asked Dragan which play he had in mind, and he mentioned Eugene Ionesco's Jack, or the Submission, which I knew was a flop in many places around the world. When it turned out that the venue for the premiere would be the Roma Parliament building on Tavaszmező Street, I was completely sold on the idea. In addition to the Gypsy actors, I was able to invite a few white (Hungarian) actors, whom they called "gadjos," as guests. The performance, which premiered on November 13, 2001, was a huge success, and encouraged by this, the following year we presented the Flemish author Michel de Ghelderode's play School for Buffoons at the Szkéné Theatre in Romani, Hungarian, and Latin. Apart from its popularity with audiences, it was also given a Critic’s Award. Then came The Blacks by Jean Genet, after which we felt that we should definitely continue together as a company. We wanted to express this experience, this special encounter that brought us together, in a symbolic word: at the suggestion of our Gypsy colleagues, we chose the word "maladype," which means "encounter" in the Lovari language. That is why and how we became Maladype Theatre.
What was the hardest thing to learn about leading a company?
The hardest thing is to continuously secure the capital and other conditions necessary for day-to-day operations, without which, unfortunately, artistic freedom can never be complete. It is important to choose the right people who want to and are able to work for Maladype. I always have to think ahead and make sure we avoid becoming a cult, becoming inward-looking. Overall, it's a very lonely task.
If you had to name the most significant performances of the past decade and a half, which ones would you choose?
Apart from the performances mentioned earlier (Jack, or the Submission, School for Buffoons, The Blacks), I would also mention our 2003 production of Theomachia, based on Sándor Weöres's oratorical work, as well as 2008's Leonce and Lena, Georg Büchner's masterpiece; King Ubu by Alfred Jarry and our non-verbal performance Tojáséj (Egg(s)Hell), also inspired by Sándor Weöres's one-line poem, all of which were hugely successful. These performances that gained international recognition were possible because, even after all these years, we have not lost our desire to experiment and explore. Personally, I don't like premieres because I'm more interested in the rehearsal and creative process, and where we are on each day when the audience is watching our work.
Your former teacher, Miklós Benedek, recently received the Kossuth Prize. What are the most important things you learned from him?
I am very happy that Miklós's work has finally been recognized with the Kossuth Prize. I clearly owe it to him and Tamás Jordán that I became a director. Miklós is a transparent, poetic being with a wealth of human and acting experience, which he passed on to us with great attention and love. I remember how much we rehearsed Edmond Rostand's play The Two Pierrots, or, The Supper in White as first-year acting students, in which a sad and a cheerful clown compete for the favours of Colombine, the eternal woman. The entire language of the play, its poetic form, and the way in which, under Miklós's direction, the characters in this tragically comic love triangle became increasingly vivid in our minds, revealed a great deal about us in the end-of-year acting exam; although it seemed very distant at first, it ultimately touched us deeply. This is precisely what we learned from Miklós: that imagination and practical knowledge can open up a wealth of possibilities if the creator takes both dimensions seriously. If we boldly combine the two, we can encounter a much more liberated and expressive theatrical experience. Miklós always inspired in us a desire for courage and freedom, as well as a sensitivity to stage symbols, allegories, and metaphors.
Maladype often puts on plays that aren't staged very often. How much of a conscious choice is that?
It's mostly because of my personality: I'm an irregular person. I come from far away, from Sighetu Marmației, the northernmost point of Northern Transylvania. After I was forced to leave my homeland at the age of 12 due to my parents' decision, I had nothing left to lose, so I made friends with the new, the unknown, and the risky. This flexibility, born of forced change, is also reflected in my choice of plays. I have often taken on texts that the audience would not have been familiar with from previous theatre seasons. One such example is Hölderlin's poetic masterpiece, Empedocles, which survives in fragments and was performed for the first time in Hungary by us.
You recently returned from the US, where you staged Matei Visniec's play How to Explain the History of Communism to Mental Patients. Can you describe the difference between American and Hungarian actors?
Of course. The stakes are much higher for an American actor. There are many actors to choose from, so they have to seize the opportunities that come their way. There are 270 theatres in Chicago. What you have right now is all you have. They always strive for the maximum, because if they don't take full advantage of the opportunity at hand, they may find themselves out of the loop in a short time. They perform in an en suite system, meaning that a play stays in the repertoire for two to two and a half months, and if the premiere doesn't go as planned, there's no telling when the next opportunity will come along.
Do you think this experience would be useful for Hungarian actors as well?
Definitely yes. Most actors here are members of a theatre company, or at least know their season well in advance, and there is less unpredictability in their lives. In America, you can only be part of a performance after a casting process. That's why they are extremely motivated and put incredible energy into achieving success.
What exactly does the casting process consist of?
Applicants bring a photo of themselves with information about the candidate on the back: roles they have played so far and any extras or special skills. They are not shy: they write everything down. If someone can flip a pizza, they mention that too. During the casting, they recite a monologue, etc. I often stopped them, instructed them, and had them repeat certain parts of the text because I was curious to see how flexible and sensitive they were, how well they could look me in the eye, for example.
You mentioned that you were successful, as the run of your show was extended. What does that depend on?
For a long time, I thought that this only happened in movies, but no: the premiere is watched by a team of seven critics. By 9 a.m. the next morning, this group decides whether or not to recommend the production they have seen. If this jury does not consider your performance worthy of recommendation, then you're done. You simply have no audience, and you won't be nominated for any awards. Fortunately, the opposite happened to me, to us, so the theatre is now playing a series that exceeds the originally planned number of performances.
You've already directed it, but you'd gladly take on Macbeth again. Why?
Because it's the kind of play that even if it was the only one you directed throughout your whole life, you'd always find something new and exciting in it. Of course, this is true of all of Shakespeare's plays. Incidentally, William Shakespeare has been very interestingly intertwined with my life. At the beginning of my career, I wouldn’t have thought that I would deal with the English bard's texts and defining characters so thoroughly and in such detail. Sometimes it seems that you have understood, grasped something, but as you walk home from rehearsal, you already know: there is (at least!) one more possibility. So, you can't wait to try again.
Last summer, Ákos Orosz, who was the leading actor of the company, signed on to Víg Theatre. How was he able to be such a key figure in your performances for so long?
He is a curious and motivated person who likes to deconstruct himself so that he can put himself back together in a different way. He is sensitive to possible mistakes and changes in the best sense of the word. He likes to introduce the risk factor into the game, which takes place in the spirit of re-designability. The truth is that we met at a very lucky time.
By Szekeres Szabolcs, Dionüszosz Magazin, 2016.
Translated by Lena Megyeri
Maladype Theatre celebrates its 15th anniversary this year. Was it harder to run an independent theatre company in 2001 than it is today?
It has never been easy to operate in the independent sector. If someone decides to establish a theatre company, their most important task is to always be several steps ahead of the daily tasks and events. This is more difficult today than it was a decade and a half ago, as those who should support our work on the basis of its value underfund us and do not stand by us in the spirit of predictability or reliability. If I didn't have good company around me, a strong sense of belonging and a sense of humour, I would have given up long ago. Somehow, I always believed that the growing intellectual value of independence and the profound relationship with creation would, over time, represent great capital for the entire Hungarian theatre culture, and perhaps we would have greater support behind us, but the opposite is happening. Funding opportunities are more limited than ever, and the amounts needed for annual operations are decreasing dramatically year by year.
How did the history of Maladype start?
In the summer of 2001, Serbian producer Dragan Ristic approached several Hungarian directors with the idea of creating a bilingual (Roma and Hungarian) performance integrating both Roma and non-Roma actors. Many found the idea interesting, but also too exotic and risky. Although they did not take him up on his offer, they pointed out to Ristic that there was a "hell-bent" guy at the University of Theatre and Film Arts who would certainly be interested. That was me. I asked Dragan which play he had in mind, and he mentioned Eugene Ionesco's Jack, or the Submission, which I knew was a flop in many places around the world. When it turned out that the venue for the premiere would be the Roma Parliament building on Tavaszmező Street, I was completely sold on the idea. In addition to the Gypsy actors, I was able to invite a few white (Hungarian) actors, whom they called "gadjos," as guests. The performance, which premiered on November 13, 2001, was a huge success, and encouraged by this, the following year we presented the Flemish author Michel de Ghelderode's play School for Buffoons at the Szkéné Theatre in Romani, Hungarian, and Latin. Apart from its popularity with audiences, it was also given a Critic’s Award. Then came The Blacks by Jean Genet, after which we felt that we should definitely continue together as a company. We wanted to express this experience, this special encounter that brought us together, in a symbolic word: at the suggestion of our Gypsy colleagues, we chose the word "maladype," which means "encounter" in the Lovari language. That is why and how we became Maladype Theatre.
What was the hardest thing to learn about leading a company?
The hardest thing is to continuously secure the capital and other conditions necessary for day-to-day operations, without which, unfortunately, artistic freedom can never be complete. It is important to choose the right people who want to and are able to work for Maladype. I always have to think ahead and make sure we avoid becoming a cult, becoming inward-looking. Overall, it's a very lonely task.
If you had to name the most significant performances of the past decade and a half, which ones would you choose?
Apart from the performances mentioned earlier (Jack, or the Submission, School for Buffoons, The Blacks), I would also mention our 2003 production of Theomachia, based on Sándor Weöres's oratorical work, as well as 2008's Leonce and Lena, Georg Büchner's masterpiece; King Ubu by Alfred Jarry and our non-verbal performance Tojáséj (Egg(s)Hell), also inspired by Sándor Weöres's one-line poem, all of which were hugely successful. These performances that gained international recognition were possible because, even after all these years, we have not lost our desire to experiment and explore. Personally, I don't like premieres because I'm more interested in the rehearsal and creative process, and where we are on each day when the audience is watching our work.
Your former teacher, Miklós Benedek, recently received the Kossuth Prize. What are the most important things you learned from him?
I am very happy that Miklós's work has finally been recognized with the Kossuth Prize. I clearly owe it to him and Tamás Jordán that I became a director. Miklós is a transparent, poetic being with a wealth of human and acting experience, which he passed on to us with great attention and love. I remember how much we rehearsed Edmond Rostand's play The Two Pierrots, or, The Supper in White as first-year acting students, in which a sad and a cheerful clown compete for the favours of Colombine, the eternal woman. The entire language of the play, its poetic form, and the way in which, under Miklós's direction, the characters in this tragically comic love triangle became increasingly vivid in our minds, revealed a great deal about us in the end-of-year acting exam; although it seemed very distant at first, it ultimately touched us deeply. This is precisely what we learned from Miklós: that imagination and practical knowledge can open up a wealth of possibilities if the creator takes both dimensions seriously. If we boldly combine the two, we can encounter a much more liberated and expressive theatrical experience. Miklós always inspired in us a desire for courage and freedom, as well as a sensitivity to stage symbols, allegories, and metaphors.
Maladype often puts on plays that aren't staged very often. How much of a conscious choice is that?
It's mostly because of my personality: I'm an irregular person. I come from far away, from Sighetu Marmației, the northernmost point of Northern Transylvania. After I was forced to leave my homeland at the age of 12 due to my parents' decision, I had nothing left to lose, so I made friends with the new, the unknown, and the risky. This flexibility, born of forced change, is also reflected in my choice of plays. I have often taken on texts that the audience would not have been familiar with from previous theatre seasons. One such example is Hölderlin's poetic masterpiece, Empedocles, which survives in fragments and was performed for the first time in Hungary by us.
You recently returned from the US, where you staged Matei Visniec's play How to Explain the History of Communism to Mental Patients. Can you describe the difference between American and Hungarian actors?
Of course. The stakes are much higher for an American actor. There are many actors to choose from, so they have to seize the opportunities that come their way. There are 270 theatres in Chicago. What you have right now is all you have. They always strive for the maximum, because if they don't take full advantage of the opportunity at hand, they may find themselves out of the loop in a short time. They perform in an en suite system, meaning that a play stays in the repertoire for two to two and a half months, and if the premiere doesn't go as planned, there's no telling when the next opportunity will come along.
Do you think this experience would be useful for Hungarian actors as well?
Definitely yes. Most actors here are members of a theatre company, or at least know their season well in advance, and there is less unpredictability in their lives. In America, you can only be part of a performance after a casting process. That's why they are extremely motivated and put incredible energy into achieving success.
What exactly does the casting process consist of?
Applicants bring a photo of themselves with information about the candidate on the back: roles they have played so far and any extras or special skills. They are not shy: they write everything down. If someone can flip a pizza, they mention that too. During the casting, they recite a monologue, etc. I often stopped them, instructed them, and had them repeat certain parts of the text because I was curious to see how flexible and sensitive they were, how well they could look me in the eye, for example.
You mentioned that you were successful, as the run of your show was extended. What does that depend on?
For a long time, I thought that this only happened in movies, but no: the premiere is watched by a team of seven critics. By 9 a.m. the next morning, this group decides whether or not to recommend the production they have seen. If this jury does not consider your performance worthy of recommendation, then you're done. You simply have no audience, and you won't be nominated for any awards. Fortunately, the opposite happened to me, to us, so the theatre is now playing a series that exceeds the originally planned number of performances.
You've already directed it, but you'd gladly take on Macbeth again. Why?
Because it's the kind of play that even if it was the only one you directed throughout your whole life, you'd always find something new and exciting in it. Of course, this is true of all of Shakespeare's plays. Incidentally, William Shakespeare has been very interestingly intertwined with my life. At the beginning of my career, I wouldn’t have thought that I would deal with the English bard's texts and defining characters so thoroughly and in such detail. Sometimes it seems that you have understood, grasped something, but as you walk home from rehearsal, you already know: there is (at least!) one more possibility. So, you can't wait to try again.
Last summer, Ákos Orosz, who was the leading actor of the company, signed on to Víg Theatre. How was he able to be such a key figure in your performances for so long?
He is a curious and motivated person who likes to deconstruct himself so that he can put himself back together in a different way. He is sensitive to possible mistakes and changes in the best sense of the word. He likes to introduce the risk factor into the game, which takes place in the spirit of re-designability. The truth is that we met at a very lucky time.
By Szekeres Szabolcs, Dionüszosz Magazin, 2016.
Translated by Lena Megyeri