(Maeterlinck: Pelléas and Mélisande; Hölderlin: Empedocles – Bárka Theatre)

Hands that are drawing each other

On the Dutch graphic designer, Escher’s famous picture we can see a pair of hands drawing each other. The young director, Zoltán Balázs’ performance at the end of the previous season, which is made in collaboration with the Bárka Theatre and Castle Theatre of Gyula, has framed structure too. The structure that is dreamt with geometric rigidity makes us remember Escher’s drawing: The characters who are wondering in the Belgian symbolist Maeterlinck’s forest of symbols with the help of the mirror structure (The Blacks) which the director likes, can become themselves and the mirror images/silhouettes of their identities (that way the two Golauds, the two Pelléas and Mélisandes play and face up with themselves and with each other at the beginning and end of the play).

To the drama which is without story and happening, Judit Gombár designed a rigid, static, authoritative area, which fills all our field of vision, most correctly it is very flat, almost undivided. During it – in contrast to the director’s earlier works – we do not become part of the sets: we can watch a picture, painting, as we are watching the wall that rises up the ceiling, it has three floors (and one more), this wall has arched archways, in front of the wall we can see the characters who are moving wonderfully slowly. Of course, the “understanding” of the set is just seemingly evident: we have to realise, that (like on Escher’s pictures of buildings) the stairs and floors melt into each other without being outworked, underside can turn into over side, from the horizontal there will be vertical and so on. We do not feel the lack of staging omniscient machinery: the floors can show easily and authentically sea side and lake under earth, cave or corridor in the castle (and really: for the first sight it is not a challenge in the graphics of the Dutch master, but of course the tricky things are in details here too).

We have to turn the levels to put at least virtually next to those characters who are hugging each other according to the text but they are separated by floors in front of us. The easy idea has two results: on one hand without any separate “warning” those few moments become more emphasised when two characters touch each other, and we can see behind the actors’ word in reality, their hidden and secret aims, which they do not know either thanks to the consistently built idea of the direction, cannot remain hidden in front of us. The listening out, the sudden caught, the secret learning of aims have an important role anyway in the play, but thanks to the cunning usage of the space it does not become longing watching out. It is proved by the sometimes melted, and always explanatory and complementary scenes and the usage of time (I think about the framed structure) that the choosing of the set that holds on its shoulder the whole conception of the performance self-confidently, has great consequences... (Then I have not talked about the “hidden” symbolism of the set or the possible Freud-like interpretations of the floors and the characters who are moving on them.)

Only a few people try to ease and delete the seemingly (?) rigid borderline between the opera and prose theatre in Hungary with persistence as Zoltán Balázs does it in his theatre with individual perspective. In case of the performance of Maeterlinck’s play that is why the three excellent bass opera singers can get really important roles as the three servants. The trio’s, formed by Antal Cseh, Géza Gábor and Szabolcs Hámori, deeply resonant voices welcome us as we are entering the Fencing Hall, and the sounding, which is similar to the Orthodox liturgic songs, (music: Béla Faragó) can create immediately the necessary associative base to understand the performance. Their frozen movements (choreography by: Tamás Vati) foreshadow an ominous fate. They are much more than simple servants: at the turning points of the story without any story, they sometimes appear as humming storms at the depth of the cave, closing gates, tools or they embody the phenomenon thanks to the emphasized role of the sound effects (percussion instruments: Kornél Mogyoró) which are strange for our European ears.

The text of the drama would also be pushed into background (a so called, ordinary love triangle can be found in the middle of the drama with all of its background and consequence). All of it is the part of the “great plan”: in the audience the visons and sounds, then the sensual artistic experience made by their connection can change the audience’s accepted expectations – in an ideal situation, so the deep concentration is born on the side of the audience at the beginning then it will work till the end. To understand the good theatre we do not need the knowledge of languages: Gabriella Varga is sensitive till the end, she is a translucent beauty, her strange, in the royal court hesitantly moving Mélisande has a close connection with water as an ancient element, meanwhile she is speaking for nothing by using a tongue-clicking language all through the performance, I can understand her, I feel precisely what she tells (wants to tell). It is a great and shocking moment, when during the heat of the love confession (these are the last moments of Pelléas’ life!) suddenly her confused scales become meaningfully: “I love you too.”

The vision of world which is created by the sounds of the three servants, Golaud (Zoltán Seress) will shade by his words. He is the perfect and rigid representative of the hard and cruel masculine world; he is a hunter, who shows off with his strategies, and he “gives” to his small kid a quiver full of arrows. It is almost ridiculous, when he warns his wife after found her in bed with someone else, not to lean out of the window and not to play with Pelléas in the dark. He treats not only his son, Yniold (Rémusz Szikszai), who is similar to a giant baby, but Pelléas and Mélisande too as silly children. To his portrait a small but accurate thing, that is mentioned in the text many times, the wedding ring which Mélisande lost by accident during the game, which can be understood in Zoltán Balázs’ performance as a suffocation “collar”. However officially Arkël is the leader of the country, but the shrunken elf puppet, which István Erdős, a puppeteer holds in his hand, cannot fight against the tall and confident Golaud, as well as Genevieve (Olga Varjú’s performance is sharp and punctual) cannot fight against the “girl, who was found in the forest” to protect her two sons. In case of Maeterlinck we can always find in the background the death that is here on the stage too. The doctor, who is played by Kristóf Horváth tells only some sentences, but the presence of the guarding figure at the top of the scales, with cunning discipline, it becomes the strongest one all through the performance.

In its design the Pelléas and Mélisande is as well structured as The Blacks, or the last direction by Zoltán Balázs, the Empedocles. It is a stage not a destination: it is a risky try to put a sensitive topic into geometrical and ritual “circumstances”, which can cause chillingly effective constellations many times, sometimes we miss the miracle, and instead of it we can get some delight by silent watching of the artistic professionally composed pictures...

The many and the one

As Zoltán Balázs’ (main) audience can get used to it, he puts on stage Hölderlin’s in Hungary still unknown play in the Bárka Theatre, that he builds on the new, beautiful (stage) world around one thought which has been analysed by embarrassing thoroughness (it is the continuation of the developed and invented, forming, and worked out language, structure and message in the School for fools, Theomachia or in The Blacks). The necessary fate of the faceless power that hides its mistakes and virtues in the mist, and thinks his own position immovable forever and the forcefully subordinates under him, to analyse the mood of the two sides, the text, which is the stage adaptation of Empedocles’ three fragments, gives an interesting additive to it as it is rewritten and edited into unity by Judit Góczán, dramaturg and the director. To understand it the knowledge of all parts of Balázs’ oeuvre is not necessary, but the similarities with them – which prove that we are somewhere in the middle of the director’s career – will need some attention too.

When we enter the area the “choir” is buzzing and murmuring Lázsló Sáry’s ominous harmonies and disharmonies that melt into each other. In the middle there is a long table covered by white cloth (it is an already used tool to concentrate the audience’s attention by Zoltán Balázs). There are lines of lights on the two sides of the table, on them three women(figures) are moving with veiled faces, as butoh dancers in Judit Gombár’s gloriously simple, white, shining costumes. Long sounding consonants are coming from three young men’s mouth who are sitting rigidly like statues at the edges of the dining table, they continue and stop the “story” of the strange choir (we can watch for a while the youngsters who are wearing graceful corsets, skirt-like clothes and trousers and French rococo-like wigs). These are the moments of the birth of Empedocles’ cosmos, the stage of the reveal of words. At the one end of the table in huge white fur coat, Empedocles’ (Artúr Kálid) figure almost gets lost, he remains calm till the end and expresses dominant dignity, over his head on the top of a tree, which is made of white rope, we can see his most loyal student, Pausanias (Kristóf Horváth) who dares to do anything for his master, and guards the ceremony with alert attention, with a stub of an umbrella in his hand. (The symmetrically built area duplicates itself, so at the other end of the table the reflection of the tree is standing, later we can learn, why.) As examining the stage of the performance which always goes back to number three, we have to connect Manes (Balázs Dévai) to Empedocles and Pausanias with his black dress, behaviour as he is standing out from the crowd, as we learn it, rightfully.

The already mentioned “lonely” idea does not (only) appear in words later. The director who always uses strong but not sensationalist visions, that find and show their meaning continuously and his permanent co-partner, Judit Gombár who is responsible for the area put in the middle (almost) only one set, the table which will work a scale soon. With the help of each person’ fate we can learn how uncertain the pan of the scale can be (if likes better: the wheel of Fortune), which can rise up unexpectedly than fall into deep. The “great man”, Empedocles, who according to people thinks about himself as god (and soon his only helper) is on one side and everybody else is on the other one. The scale that is formed in front of our inner eyes becomes the exact sing of the unstable power relations. The spatial and mental contrast of the one against more appear again and again, Empedocles’ route goes from the top – form the blind adoration of Agrigento who do not understand him and his thoughts and/or misinterpret them deliberately – though one day goes towards another top, till the top of Volcano Etna, where he will kill himself by jumping into the flaming crater. Between the two there are his critics and fanatic fans: the few selected, who are interested in Empedocles’ knowledge, and the crowd of people of moments, who have not got into that stage of evolution to understand anything from his mysterious speech about the power of nature.

The later ones cannot do any other thing. As the tall and dried Hermocrates (Éva Bakos) said it: “Either he or us!” The owners of power cannot agree with their opponents, that would confuse and make rebel people who do not know the political world. Then it is easier to overwhelm those who think the other way. Before we can hear the lessons from Empedocles’ mouth that can disturb the mood incomprehensibly, they talk about it with writers’ common tools – everybody according to their own mood and interest. The group formed by Panthea (Nóra Parti), Rhea (Gabriella Varga) and Delia (Kamilla Fátyol) examines the great man, Empedocles in his garden and his clues, and from their memories that are bidding on each other, a picture of a wise man is formed. At that point it cannot be known accurately that in Panthea’s eager words valuable sparks are shining, or just other people’s unreasonable adoration have effect on her too. Finally, the end of the performance convinces me about the earlier one: after Empedocles leaves the life, Pausanias and Panthea who are sitting on the branch of the tree on the two ends of the table, are staring silently at each other, and they will take care of the balance of the world. The priest, Hermocrates, and two of her partners Kritias (Olga Varjú) and Mecadees (Erzsébet Soltész) try to protect the immature people, who are unable to think (and their own relatives) from Empedocles. Hermocrates’ speech of hate, which because of its edition, can be in a book of speech, foreshadows the short reckoning by the leader.

After the impressions for and against Empedocles – we have to recognise that neither reasons nor facts but momentary impressions, memories, that are made beautiful by the distance, rule the reports – we get closer to Empedocles’ figure with one more step. Meanwhile we can see that Empedocles’ “rapper” students are not worthy to follow the “Master”: maybe they connected just because of fashion? When they learn that their master would leave them (“the life”), during their first shock and anger they can repeat just meaningless debris of sentences like machines. As before there is another additive to the psychology of the mass who makes image for themselves from insignificance with pure noise (another similarly sharp picture when the mass, enraged by Manes bark at the philosopher like angry pack of dogs). The clinical picture and the scene are irresistibly funny (in case of The Black humour was an important tool and here it is dosed well and follows the whole performance), and frightening at the same time: if his close circle cannot understand Empedocles, how can we want the others to do it? The loneliness becomes universal, it is for sure: he is the pointer of the scale, and even if Pausanias remains with him till the end, finally, he can count on only himself.

When Hölderlin’s text is performed which is not full of complicated happenings, the deep analysis of the behaviour of the crowd can form thick points too. What is happening there? Someone against all prohibition and supplication dare to rebel against the representatives of power that shacks dutifully the thinking. Kritias’s daughter, Panthea does it, who I have mentioned before, becomes Empedocles’ woman descendant, she becomes the female part of his broken soul (by forming a new unity together with the “male descendant”, Pausanias). Against Panthea’s silent leaving there is another way: Mecadees as the representative of blind people dare to ask questions from the priest, Hermocrates. The result of it is the merciless and humiliating dethronement of the later one and her abusing. And as “god blessed people” get rid of the tyrant, they would like to have a new one above them: the foolish ones call back the expelled master from the side of the Etna while they are dancing in a rhythm of bossa nova. However “it is not the time of kings” anymore – say Empedocles on a calm voice.

At the end Manes, the mute celebrator of this art celebration, who self-confidently combine the elements of ritual and traditional theatre, will tell us. Zoltán Balázs has invented a new tool to measure the time – in Theomachia the strange apparition who walks up and down the spiral stairs, in The Blacks the tableaus, the two running figures give tempo and rhythm to the performance. Here Balázs Dévai’s impressive stunt, as he is laying the road (from life to death) into a dinning-table during one and half an hour, an exceptional immersion and extraordinary concentration are needed for it – from the side of the performer and the viewers too. As it is not just about the pure placement of the tableware: thanks to András Szőllősi’s strict choreography the actor, despite of his silence, is tight and with rigid elegance walks, with his stiff and measured movements he is always in connection with the happenings on and around the table and the other characters too. Thanks to his presence the thin, translucent glass in his hand becomes a shining spring.

Balázs Dévai’ tormenting and fascinating scale of movements are not without any ominous tones: the tempo is not by chance, it becomes meaningfully and important again and again. The mysterious figure like a real temper always serves in good time and good place, and the figure who is always underlying in the background, seemed to be innocent at the beginning, then gets satanic features and he has turned out to be the key figure of the performance. The mentioning of the infernal signs is not by chance: there is always reference to Christian symbolism, as the directional analyse weaves through the performance again and again (think about the relation between the Master and the student(s), to the major roles of the respectful women, to the high priest who accuses the master, and above all to the double-edged relation between the thinker and people). All of it is in harmony with the philosopher’s opinion: the study remembers Empedocles as the only mystery play of German romanticism, and accepts that this is the only text by Hölderlin which is close to Greek dramas. That is the reason of the so-called modern feature inside romanticism of the fragmentary play.

Manes puts thirteen plates on the table “for” the characters who are in four groups of three. The actors without their veils and wigs, naked (from their social and stage roles) as dead bodies lie on the cloth of the table of the last supper, between the silver candlesticks, to let the audience concentrate on the end of two characters with all their attention. The two opponents are face to face: Empedocles and Manes. It is a terrifying poetic competition, we can watch a real Greek agon from now on (then Kornél Mogyoró stops playing his hitting music that has emphasised the thesis sentences so far). It becomes clear that all earlier actions want their meaning from this frozen moment. Manes’ (write it in a Latin way and the Romain name of the ghost of dead will be familiar) character is one of the mysteries of the play: Empedocles calls him a bad ghost, a shadow, but we will not learn more about him. His fool and malevolent asking cannot anger the great man: it captivates Empedocles but his confidents closing remarks can give hope to us: “I will be there again.”

In the darkening room only, the wobbling light of the candles give some shine. The audience can feel precisely this enlightening, rare, theatrical moment: the first clapping hands hesitantly dare to break this majestic, long silence.

Tamás Jászay, Criticai Lapok, 2006

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)