Zoltán Balázs began as a student theatre performer and went on to become a theatre artist of European stature. Everything related to theatre interests him—he acts, directs, designs sets and visual concepts, runs a company, and teaches. His fundamental concern is the relationship between the individual and power, and he believes that artistic sovereignty is liberating.

— The Hungarian theatre profession is not exactly in a rosy situation, and this is particularly true of independent companies. The Maladype Theatre, which you have led for twenty-one years, is nevertheless constantly travelling around the world, and as a director you also spend more time abroad than at home. Do you have to keep moving in order to survive?

— You see it correctly. During the first half of the season, I travelled with the Maladype company to Montenegro, Greece, Serbia, Poland, and Ukraine. I prepared my productions in Romania and Poland. At the Odeon Theatre in Bucharest, I will direct La Fontaine’s Fables, while at the Jaracza Theatre in Olsztyn I will stage Mickiewicz’s “light” classical dramatic poem Forefathers’ Eve. In December, we finally premiered Fear Seekers with the graduating acting students of the University of Arts in Târgu Mureș, and I will soon be able to make up for some of the international projects that were cancelled because of the pandemic.

— So you also teach in Târgu Mureș?

— In the form of individual courses. I do not undertake to lead a class, because given my lifestyle, that would be dishonest...

— Fortunately, audiences in Hungary can also see your work. What will be your next production in Hungary?

— Last June, with the Maladype company, we premiered in Kisvárda our production based on Tankred Dorst’s play Merlin, or The Wasteland. Its Budapest premiere will take place on January 28 at Eötvös10.

— You are not averse to traditional genres either, since last year you directed the musical Nine at the Operetta Theatre. It was successful, and then it disappeared from the repertoire for two months. Why?

— At the Operetta Theatre, newly premiered productions are performed fifteen to twenty times and then put on ice for two or three months. That is the theatre’s programming policy. Nine will be back on stage in February.

— This musical is not a conventional musical, since it was adapted from Federico Fellini’s cinematic classic 8½, and the way you staged it certainly cannot be described as operetta-like either. Did you have any battles over the direction?

— Not at all. Those who know my productions know what to expect. I had already held talks with the previous management, but at the last moment I always proved too radical. I never imagined that I would make it to the finish line with Attila Kiss-B. Somehow, we and the company found one another at exactly the right time and in exactly the right state.

The artists of the Operetta Theatre are deeply committed to their profession and their genre. They have preserved their childlike spirit; they are playful, curious, creative, and, of course, perfectionists. I did not have to open any cans of preserved habits, and old ingrained patterns did not obstruct our collaboration either. They immediately gave their trust to my directorial ideas and adapted easily to the unconventional perspective that characterises my work.

— They weren’t even surprised?

— Perhaps a little. After I was invited, several of them called me back and asked, “Are you really that Zoli Balázs? Are you actually coming here?” I had the opportunity to work with wonderful artists. Each one is crazier than the next. The kaleidoscopic possibilities of performance created by the triple casting, together with the many different creative personalities, were enormously inspiring to me.

— How did you use this diversity while directing?

— It is a productive game for me, because I can formulate instructions tailored to individual personalities. That way, we can approach the character of the Mother in completely different ways with Zsuzsa Ullmann, Zsuzsa Kalocsai, or Ildikó Bánsági. I work in the same way in any theatre in the world, and I find it tremendously enjoyable.

— Because of the triple casting, did you essentially direct three different productions?

— In many respects, yes. The three male leads, who are of different ages, represent three different perspectives, different personalities and temperaments. Their individual personalities are the most important points of departure.

— A stylistic exercise?

— We could call it that. The diversity of content and form is not alien to Fellini’s spirit. If you try to rise to the level of a giant of cinema like Fellini, you also have to take seriously the cultural diversity, genre fluidity, and variety of characters that are so characteristic of him.

— How would you define the essence of the three productions individually?

— In my heart, I would have them all perform together, because for me the three leading actors collectively represent Fellini’s alter ego. In this musical, which places the anatomy of the creative individual at its centre, the manifestations characteristic of Guido Contini are best understood as a series of developmental snapshots.

In the acting of Attila Dolhai, Zsolt Homonnay, and György Szomor, which is rooted in their personal experiences, different creative stages and degrees of development emerge, and they energise their surroundings in different ways.

— Are you suggesting that everyone should see the play three times?

— It would be wonderful, but even critics don’t do that. The productions represent autonomous worlds, each with its own spirit and independent emotional structure, although certain motifs resonate with one another.

During the design process, Anikó Németh and I also made sure that the artists could wear costumes tailored to their individual personalities and would not feel like clones. On the one hand, this creates a stimulating form of play; on the other, it allowed us to avoid having the performers copy one another’s gestures and reactions.

The strength of individual characterisation and the particular impulses of the actors’ presence can only be fully appreciated by a spectator who sees Nine more than once. It is a sad fact that today very few people are capable of seeing and presenting different things in relation to one another, as parts of a larger whole.

— You travel, and the company travels, a great deal. Is this also what keeps Maladype Theatre going?

— Above all. Unfortunately, touring is not easy during a global pandemic, because every country has its own regulations, its own Covid laws. Right now, what we need most is our company’s ability to react quickly and adapt.

Thanks to Maladype’s constantly renewing spirit, we have become sufficiently experienced in various techniques for recognising and handling different situations.

— Is it this flexibility that has enabled you to remain afloat for more than two decades?

— What keeps us viable is our artistic island-like existence, which is difficult to fit into the current overall picture of theatre; our exploratory, investigative approach to theatre-making; and the sense of authenticity expressed through our creative work.

— What is the secret of your financial viability as well?

— First and foremost, our international presence. Secondly, sound financial management.

We were in the most difficult situation during the first and second waves of Covid, because we could not travel. We had countless festival invitations and had become accustomed to constantly travelling around the world, so when we suddenly had to stop, our future became uncertain and impossible to plan.

Fortunately, our theatre’s reserves were sufficient to cover the actors’ monthly salaries, and we were also able to travel to the International Gombrowicz Festival in Poland, where we won every award with our production of Yvonne.

After that, another long pause followed. Since the borders have reopened, we have been travelling a great deal again, and I very much hope we will be able to continue...

— What accounts for the willingness of foreign theatres and festivals to receive your work?

— The popularity and mobile nature of our productions. The theatrical language characteristic of our work reaches audiences in many different ways in different parts of the world.

Our distinctive solutions in content and form, the personal and everyday tone based on interaction, and the complex skills of our actors all contribute to the positive overall image of Maladype.

From my foreign masters, Robert Wilson and Anatoly Vasiliev, I learned that “a company is worth as much as it travels.” The more often it can test itself on the international theatre scene, the more artistically mature and balanced it becomes, and the more easily and generously it can exist within its own environment as well.

If a company always performs for the same audience, there is a danger that it will receive the audience’s affection and recognition even without genuine achievement or renewed artistic energy. Familiarity and old friendships can make an audience more forgiving.

The Maladype company has to win over audiences in Iran just as it does in Vietnam or America. The only measure of these encounters is human and artistic authenticity.

The plasticity of our actors’ talent is also evident in the way they adapt to the particular cultural environment, the particular performance space, and the reactions of the audience.

— How do you overcome language barriers?

— There is no problem with our non-verbal productions, while our text-based performances give our artists the opportunity to speak in English or in the language of the country we are visiting. Audiences always greatly appreciate this personal gesture.

At the request of the host organisation, we also provide surtitles and simultaneous interpretation for our performances.

— So what you do can be understood regardless of national borders?

— That is part of it. But the most important thing is the ability to redesign and renew ourselves.

If, over the past twenty years, we had not been able to renew ourselves and adapt to constantly changing circumstances, Maladype would by now be nothing more than a stray footnote in the book of theatre history.

As company director and director, I have lived through almost four creative eras with different creative partners, but I have always had to be ten steps ahead of them.

— Ahead of whom?

— Ahead of the current company, the permanent members. But the same is true of my creative partners, supporters, and festival organisers.

— How do you make sure you are always one step ahead?

— I train a lot. In any case, for me the addiction to theatre-making is a kind of “genetic injury.”

— Does being constantly one step ahead mean that you can see into the future?

— It is more the result of not feeling compelled to conform. Artistic sovereignty is liberating.

I do not choose the next pieces for our repertoire according to whether they will be festival-friendly. Nor is my aim to process fashionable subjects in a trendy way.

— Do you follow your instincts?

— Not only. I try to follow the artistic strategy I formulated at the beginning of my career, and I try to set myself professional challenges that require fresh thinking, a distinctive approach, and new forms of interpretation.

I work on a particular subject or story because it interests me—the writer’s universe, the way the characters think, and the network of cause-and-effect relationships contained within the work.

I think I am guided by a kind of intuition that has not let me down so far.

— What really interests you?

— Robert Wilson says that every director repeatedly directs the fundamental theme that had the greatest impact on them before the age of twelve.

I am interested in the relationship between the individual and power. In the question of determinism and free will.

— You were thinking about determinism at the age of twelve?

— It was part of my childhood. As a twelve-year-old boy in Transylvania, I still experienced the final period of communism. I saw up close what it meant when the black car would occasionally appear, take my grandfather away, and my grandmother would beg for an amnesty.

— Why was he harassed?

— He was Hungarian and the manager of a grocery store. He was easy to make a scapegoat. It was enough for someone to pour water into the oil during a “random inspection.” They manipulated events however they wanted.

— Do you still carry that anger with you?

— No. My family was never resentful. They did not instil chauvinism, nationalism, a sense of superiority, or a victim complex in me.

But at the age of twelve, I nevertheless lost a homeland, my family, my first love, and my first friendship...

— Where did you live as a child?

— In Sighetu Marmației. It was a truly Edenic world.

When I had to leave the place where I had grown up from one moment to the next, I did not yet understand the long-term thinking behind my parents’ decision. I felt that I had nothing left to lose.

I hitchhiked extensively around Europe, met all kinds of people, and gradually developed the adaptable personality that would continue to evolve later on.

I do not panic at all when something does not turn out the way I planned. In fact, I am even happy when things take a different direction.

In America, after a performance of our Ubu Roi, the audience told us during the post-show discussion that the actors’ performance had seemed as if their stage actions had been organised by a series of “happy accidents.”

Perhaps my life is like that too.

A series of joyful collisions.

György Víg, Index, 2022

translated by Zsuzsanna Juraszek

Imagine a break up, where there is no shouting, throwing of the plates, only just a left jacket of a suit in the bedroom, and a husband, who decides to take revenge with the finest psychological horror. In a summary and on the surface, this is the story of the short-story of The Suit, written by the South-African Can Themba, which has been put on stage by the Maladype Theatre, led by Zoltán Balázs, director – together with Adrián Kovács, composer – as a smothery, but very stylish jazz-opera, which you cannot forget for a while.

There is a moment, when in a marriage nothing has to be said, the silence can settle everything. The plates are not broken, there are not any slammed doors, the husband does not shout with his wife...just a suit left there, a suit of an unknown man. The lover’s one, who in his hurry left the evident behind, and the husband decides not to throw it away. Why would he do it? The revenge is the best, if it cannot end. A slap hurts just once, a shot can kill once. But a suit remains in the room, and he can punish with it again every morning.

The South-African short-story, which was written in 1963, seeming a self-mythology with a closed chain: the unfaithful wife, the husband, who has caught her and the escaping lover’s left suit. In reality it can show us the soul-destroying everyday life in the once black cultural district of Sophiatown, Johannesburg – it was the symbolic place of the social and political violence of the apartheid era. The short-story is exactly about the dictature, which is led into intimacy: that moment, when the logic of the outside power has not threatened from outside any more, it has moved into the flat, and tells us how to behave. The Suit is the costume of this power, as power does never consist simply of lows and actions of police, its greatest success is always when it does not have to force from outside, people do terrible things with each other, as the husband does it with his wife.

The first adaptation of the story was in 1994, at the beginning of the falling of the apartheid in the Market Theatre of Johannesburg, then Peter Brook, one of the most effective British director of theatre history put it on stage twice. First in 1999 in Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord in Paris, then in 2012 he made another version at Marie-Hélène Estienne, and with Franck Krawczyk with live music score. The story has theatrical past, but Zoltán Balázs does not repeat this past, he has translated it into his own theatrical language, into the language of Maladype.

In Balázs’ theatre it is rare just to “perform” something. An actor does not simply step into a situation, but gets into a system instead. The movement is ruled, the place is structured, the body exists only in a choreography. From his earlier works, for example the objective world of the King Ubu or from the musical-physical discipline of Leonce and Lena his aims are well-known: people sooner or later become puppets and the objects become characters. Now he almost has an easy work, the suit is an empty human form, without body it can imitate a body. It is presented instead of someone else, while he becomes threatening with his lack. It is a property and individuality at the same time, a proof and a punishing tool. The object slowly gets the place of a human, and the husband becomes the justice.

“Zoltán Balázs’ theatre does not let us watch it from the comfort of a real drama of a marriage, the stage is a construction, the body is a sign, the movement is rule. That is why The Suit can become a jazz-opera.”

Adrián Kovács’ music does not paint some African feeling on the story, as the South-African nature should be proved with some exotic tunes. The music is much cleverer than this, it can organise the play from inside. The rhythm can give the movement, the sounding can give the tension, the repetition is to show its closeness. Jazz can express freedom and the loss of it at the same time. The world of the once Sophiatown can be heard as we can hear its disappearance in it at the same time. The most beautiful cruelty of the performance is, that the music of freedom slowly becomes the music of prison. In jazz there is always an attempt to escape, the rhythm escapes, the tune bends, the instrumental music improvises. In Adrián Kovács’ music behind the improvisation the structure is still there. As someone can move freely in his cell, however, the walls of it cannot be seen, but Matilda, the wife knows well where are they and she moves according to it.

Csilla Radnay does not perform the destruction with one huge tragic gesture. Something worse happens to her; the world is getting narrower around her. She still has body, but she has not got any freedom. She can still speak, but behind the sentences fewer decision can remain. She tries to get normality back into their life, as it can be got back, which she has lost, with playfulness, kindness, and the small rites of everyday life. It cannot happen, the dictatorship – it can be political or marital – does not want you to obey, it wants you not to be able to imagine the disobedience.

“Philemon by Barna Kelemen Bányai is not an inarticulate, shouting tyrant, there is something elegant in him, some kind of gentleman-like peace.”

He practices cruelty with intelligence and not with anger. He does not lose, he practices control, that can make him horrible. Behind his ordinary politeness there is a concentration camp, behind his smile, there is discipline, behind the etiquette of the marriage there is an execution. Barna Kelemen Bányai can perform the elegant fulfiller of systemic oppression, meanwhile he keeps the mask of the elegant man; he forces his wife for psychological self-destruction like he would do a social protocol.

The suit is in the middle, as a third person, who does not need to speak. Ferenc Fehér’s presence can create a strange duality. The lover is presented and not at the same time. His body is saved by the cloth and his personality is replaced by the cloth, the lack can become a character. This is an old trick of theatre: to give life to something, which is lifeless. But here the trick turns the other way around, the lifeless object can take life from the living ones. Philemon does not only punish Matilda, he wants to change the reality, he wants to make the woman accept: the suit has the right to be there, it must be taken care of, they must talk to it and it deserves respect. The nonsense has become obligation, that is how the power is formed, first it changes the rules than finally what we can feel to be normal.

Zoltán Balázs has psychologized over the process. He does not explain it, why Philemon is evil, and why Matilda is a victim. He chooses a more theatrical solution: he closes them into a system of rules.

“The space has turned into a ritual arena, where the movements have their own law, as the music does.”

People cannot just step out of the choreography. As the marriage has been choreographed basically, but while one of the partners has known the steps, the other one has not had music yet. The South-African story slowly leaves its own geography. Sophiatown remains behind it, as the historical shadow of apartheid too. But the question is not about that what has happened in South-Africa, but that how familiar the mechanism is. The dictatorship does not have to start on the streets and does not always arrive in uniform...sometimes in suit.

That is why the choice of the genre of jazz-opera is so accurate. The jazz has historical memories about freedom, meanwhile on the stage we can listen to the gradual loss of freedom. The beauty of the music cannot ease the story, but it makes it even more cruel. The viewers almost feel ashamed that they can enjoy it, while they can feel well, that something irreversible is happening, the horrible one becomes a form. Maybe it is the most important statement of Zoltán Balázs’ staging, that cruelty is not always chaotic. It can be elegant, punctual, aesthetic, there can be rules to it. At the end of the performance, tragedy does not simply happen, it is performed as an accurately written musical movement, which all moments have already returned, all the instruments have arrived, and in the end nothing else remains than the final chord. But now it is not the music, which dies, but the human being, Matilda, but the suit remains.

The performance is ritual, thanks for the strict theatrical language it does not remain a far away, South-African story, it becomes a universal model about the human cruelty. How can vengefulness and mania of control destroy systematically the most intimate human relationships, as dictatorship does not stop outside the walls of the house, it gets into the most intimate sphere too.

According to its visuality and musicality the performance is excellent, while it does not let me calm down for days.

Izabella Andrea Cseh, PRAE.HU, 2026

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

The Exercises in Style performance of Maladype Theatre should be watched by all enthusiasts of film. Anyway, it is hard for those, whose knowledge about films are on under construction state, but they can even get an encouragement. But what kind of exercises, the performance, staged by Zoltán Balázs, is about?

“There are 66 scenes instead of 99” – the director starts his introduction with it, before the performance, and he also mentions, that if we see a scene and we do not recognise that which film must have been quoted there, do not think about it more, but let us just accept the next one. However, we can meet many things from Takeshi Kitano, through Fellini until the Pulp Fiction, while also the Godfather smokes behind his cigar. The performance is characterised by the unbelievable, almost unfollowable diversity, while Raymond Queneau’s play the Exercises in Style shows the interpretation of one story in 99 versions. Since Queneau (and his Hungarian translator: Róbert Bognár) was genius, because he could write the same story in 99 different genres, meanwhile the Troupe of Maladype performs the same in the styles of 66 different films. They have reduced the number, because they realise that the Hungarian viewers, especially in the given narrow place, can bear that amount without greater suffering. We should add to it, that all happens with full houses of 120 percent.

At the beginning we can see a typical figure, who is sitting backwards (Ákos Orosz), who tells his story while he is typing, according to it, that day on bus number five, his attention was raised by a weird looking – who has unnatural long neck – young man, who pushed the others on the bus. Which is surprising, that the storyteller, some hours later, could see the same man, talking to one of his friends, who is educated about the fact, that he should sew another button onto his coat. It can be a mystical, unsolved story, or even an everyday side moment. The way, as he tells it, is not something like this. The beginning of the performance is almost frightening: it starts with The Shining. Then newer and newer scenes are coming, and they tell the story differently. The story has an inner mathematic, there are repeated long scenes and meanwhile the actors’ performances are also enchanting.

We have already know about Maladype, that the performing troupe prepares everything for themselves, they find out everything together, they even build up the set together. This kind of unity can be felt from the performance too: however, they “wear” different costume and expressive properties in each scenes. Their ability to connect to each other and the newer styles show us their great experience and feelings of community. Of course, those viewers, who have not recognised any filmish styles for a while, have started to pay attention to the way, how the four performers comes one after another (the already mentioned, Orosz, Zoltán Lendváczky, Erika Tankó and Ágota Szilágyi), how fast they can change costumes, that they are inside even those scenes, where they cannot be seen anyway. The atmosphere of The Shining cannot remain all the time, it is true, that there are some other horrific scenes, for example, Metropolis is cited by the prolonged shadows, and some moments are Twin Peaks-like. (However, maybe it has not been the aim, just the writer of these lines, as a viewer would like to see them everywhere).

The performance can be an excellent subject for lessons of film history, as it is a practice field for different styles and films, from the silent films until The Lord of Rings.

However, the expression of postmodern and post-dramatic has become a little bit old-fashioned, but the performance can be a good example of them. Not the empathy is the most important one, not the structure of the dramaturgy, which try to reach the viewers’ catharsis, but the continuous disruption is the important one, that way, the story is continuously repeated. Anyway, even in the fragmentation of the performance, which is built on sequences, there is a punctually built up and executed aim: Takeshi Kitano’s puppets are going on, and pull each other many times through the corridor like stage, and they always tell something from the well-known story. And they pull each other even finally. We should not explain why. It is wonderful.

Spoiler: after the performance, the director answered to out question that soon a detailed list would be made too, about the film, which “can be seen” in the performance.

Ágnes Bakk, mandarchiv.hu, 2015

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

On the Island of Margit there is a path on the Palatinus beach, between the sport fields and the pools. It is an idea against the season, but if somebody puts his towel next to it, he does not have to move and get the whole offer from the left and right hand side: women and men, fat and thin ones, with round and straight shoulders, alone and in pairs, with the big family. Those who are hugging, and quarrelling, the lazy and happy ones, the lovers and haters, with neat artificial nails or bitten fungal nails, the beauty ones and those who are seemed to be beautiful, all permutation of the good, bad and the ugly ones.

On the performance of Maladype Theatre the situation was eerily similar: in one of the room of the base, which has been formed from one of the civilian flats of the eighth district, we are sitting by one of the longer wall, while from the both sides different figures of film history arrive to us. They tell a story, which has started on the bus number 5, about a man with long neck, who is wearing a hat. We cannot even move: originally, there are many of us, but – by making them sitting on tiny chairs – they even push some young viewers on this crowded atmosphere. It is not the Palatinus, but the offered view is not there just to watch.

At that time, in connection with Leonce and Lena Zoltán Balázs has received both good and bad as a director. Bad one (between the others at us too) by telling that the scenes, which have been worked out in more versions, and put next to each other almost in an ad hoc way, cannot form a whole performance. Good one (among the others, from the writer of these lines too), because that playfulness, which has been formed by hard workshop activities becomes a special quality of theatre that is full of ideas, on the stage. It is a fact, that they have torn into pieces Büchner’s play, and from it finally something has been formed, but it was a question that what kind of relationship has it got with Leonce and Lena.

Raymond Queneau wrote the Exercises in Style in 1947 against this structure originally – nomen est omen – tells a story in almost a hundred different styles. However, it is true that they are organised according to a musical-mathematical composition, but this structure, which is both free and fixed, originally over-writes the fact that the performing of the whole play would mean a serious trial for the viewers’ tolerance. So the Exercises in Style has already been separated from different points of view, and now the Maladype Theatre with the playfulness, which is their characteristic, separates on that way that meanwhile something has been built up slowly.

The Godfather can be a film etalon, and Marlon Brando’s head of the family with his harsh voice is well recognisable at once, while he is talking about a man, who he has seen on the bus number five. And then we have not talked about Chewbacca and C-3PO, but it is not evident that all scenes of the performance cites a movie. According to our knowledge of films, this puzzler-finder offer of the performance may prevail better too. Independently of the recognition, the different, typical figures are coming continuously, and they live their different, typical lives, which we can see only meanwhile, they have not finished that exact story.

There are figures far away: Ágota Szilágyi slow walking in patterned green dress (maybe with an umbrella) is not from this world enchantingly, while the other times our stereotypes from the eighth district are represented here. We can be separated from them by continents, or not even by a glass, the figures are always born from the artistic social distancing: they have touchable characters, but they have not got any personalities – they cannot even have in every one and half minutes. There is another offer to play, the viewers can experience these roles from close distance – they can fill them on inside. Above all, the characters have reaction on every noises of chairs and blowing of noses: like in the clever girl’s story, they both exist and do not. Behind the full transformations and very fast dressings, slowly we can see the Enchanting Victim (Ágota Szilágyi), the (Self)Destructive (Erika Tankó), the Aggressive (Ákos Orosz) and the Loser (Zoltán Lendváczky). The four of them, in front of us, together with us, from us – and the performance has been formed that way.

As some objects appear repeatedly (umbrella, knife, gun, book, camera, and so on), sometimes they become exciting playing partners of the actors, then other times they can hardly find themselves, and the scenes themselves are thrown away many times. The great amount of ideas sometimes entertain us with great tricks, then surprise us, then sometimes they are a little bit boring, froze us or make us think them over. The rhythm of their scales and the usage of music seem to be very over thought, the whole performance is a little bit too much and too long. We get tired by the end, and tiredly we cannot play.

According to the story, which is told sixty-six times, later the man in hat is asked, why he has not sewed upper his top button. The performance puts on speaker this why. As for the button, maybe this thing is less important – anyway somewhere they should start it.

Ákos Török, 7óra7, 2015

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

The Scottish like name must be sounded strange, as Stratford – upon – Avon is not only far away from Scotland, but the writer himself is far from it, as his is English to the core, but anyway some kind of weird affinity can be felt at many points of his life, towards the Northern, mythical – superstitious neighbouring society that can experience not a little amount of suffering because of their stormy history. Shakespeare’s last tragedy, the “Scottish one” expresses gloomy and impenetrable darkness onto the history, power, fate, on everything, which has been the importance of the tragedy before, and on which he wanted to increase till the end as a goodbye action. However, Macbeth not so paradoxical way, was written for a celebration: for the reception of the Danish king, on behalf of this I. Jacob (Scottish: VI. Jacob), who can know the important side character of the tragedy as one of his ancestors. Which is called to be the “Scottish play”, by the superstitious theatres, because the demons visit not only the play, but the performances too, so it needs many courage and self-awareness to perform three Macbeths in Gyula during the double anniversary.

Next to Shakespeare’s four hundred and fiftieth birthday, the festival of Gyula, which has been named after him, has become ten years old this year. Here we should spend some time, because while the British play writer is getting younger by the time – his modern nature, actuality and present sense became the calling word of the conference, which has been organised as the important event of the festival – but the Shakespeare Festival of Gyula is not similar to a child, it gets matured in time, it has important attraction, it has formed its own identity; it has grown up magnificently. During a decade it has not only risen from the great amounts of local events, and it has not only put on the map of Europe the wonderfully various and always high levelled events of Gyula of the long week, but it has made an international pilgrimage site the middle-aged stone castle, which has seen many things. As those kind of performances are shown here during these days, which cannot be seen anywhere else, in our country, which is lack of international theatrical festivals, we should appreciate the continuous high standard of artistic level, the virtuosity of the organisation, and the atmosphere of the scales of events: with concerts, conversations, and with the anniversary exhibition in connection with the first nine festivals – which can be seen anyway as a contemporary international theatrical anthology too...

...the scales of Macbeths’ archaic story, has begun with the anatomy of the main character with the performance of Maladype Theatre. So it is not a representation, but analysis, reflexion and the scales of comments, which naturally – sometimes as it comes from the logic of the play: unnaturally – can serve the task of narration. And because of it the Scottish play seems to be suitable for this kind of opening and re-composition, as it can be seen as one of the “plays of thoughts” by Shakespeare, as we are inside in reality the main character’s soul and mind, who is fighting with his own doubts, posture and of course with his opponents. The amount of Macbeth’s texts is almost the double and half of his most talkative partners’, his monologues many times counterpoint the action, other times they paraphrase or refute it, that is why the relationship between the actions and words is more plastic and nuanced, than in case of other tragedies by the writer.

That is why the performance has not opened the play from the side of the “word”, but from the side of the vision and sounding, which as it is well-known can burn into our memories more strongly than the diction, and which get the most important exercises of the communication during this evening. The place also expresses it: as we are inside an instrument, or we ourselves can become instruments too, the background wall appears as wall with strings, on it must be a giant guitar, and while the silver lines have sounds, they also divide and connect at the same time, and then when a cut head appears on the side string, the closing accord was born, which silenced the overture. At the end of the story, Macbeth’s cut head becomes the part of the final, when it is put into the cage of silent rats, by which they give the possibility of really thought-provoking comments and associations. Especially with the knowledge of the study of rats, as the very intelligent animal – which giant skeleton is one of the most dominant visual elements of the performance – has many characteristics, (as the zodiac sign of Chinese astronomy has known a lot about it) which are coloured dark only be the characteristics, which are connected to them, on its own, these are the survival instinct with elemental power, the pragmatism without any values or even the characteristic of active formation of fate – and then we are not so far away from Macbeth.

Zoltán Balázs has strengthened the aesthetic effects of the vision and sounding in this performance against the verbal conventions, that in it the place – body – sound can appear in a composed, stylized and naturalistic way at the same time, and the logic of the story can be opened only by the imagined and associative ways. The nakedness, which is used as one of the dominant visual elements, sometimes can carry fallibility, sometimes its flexible softness nature raises desires, and with it I can emphasise mostly the dramaturgy of the viewers’ looks and that is why the clothes are not for covering the bodies, but to put them in frame and to offer them. The material, colour, elements of which sometimes give answer to the motifs of the set, as they would turn it for the story, which feels itself at home in the world of magic, as it can do it with the bodies, and turns the fallible bodies either in the desire or in the murder into objects as the tragic continuation of the same story. The stylization of the movements is also divided with “ritardando” and “presto” from the rules of souls – the anatomy does not know psychology – sometimes the puppet of sticks that is formed wittily seems to be more realistic than his flesh and blood mates. Other times the excesses of fear and horror shake Macbeth, who is ready to die, to death with extreme power: only a few can talk so punctually about death, which is waited, deserved, well-known and anyway horrific. The anatomy, according to its original meaning, is about the body, but the origin of the term must have come from the Greek verb “to cut” – that way the cut-up Macbeth will not be the “performed” or “shown” Macbeth, but it is mostly the demonstration of the cut-up, cut-out one. Because of it, the title of the performance, defines the genre, which is well-known in fine art, from Leonardo and Rembrandt until Barcsay, and it has important lyrical examples too; and according to it, they expect different attitude from the viewers too, as the body – as well; the performed – body – that way these are those kinds of eminent theatrical versions, which show the entire thing.

András Nagy, Színház (extract), 2014

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

What we can see before the pulling down of the lightening is promising: the set is wonderful, which glass-like base lightly rises up, while the cables, which are coming from it and going up towards the ceiling are similar to a harp in front of our eyes. Above all these there is an imposingly worked out skeleton, which is similar mostly to a sabre-toothed tiger, and which is also placed on the podium, which serves as the set. It is a real associational cavalcade, especially if we added those rats that later appear in the podium.

We cannot complain about the set, only because of the fact, how the performance uses all of it. The tiger is ridden as it is supposed to be, they sometimes look out between the strings of the harp, sometimes they even strum is softly, but nothing else. The set of vision – which is there to raise catharsis – can be seen at the end of the performance, exposes itself at least before its big setting-up.

At the compulsive disassembly of the skeleton at least once they can use the set playfully and full of sense way, when they set the bed from it for Lady Macbeth, who escapes into craziness and then suicide. The disappearing of the skeleton is necessary, the most beautiful must be if it can moulder but its taking apart is compulsive – during more scenes all the characters are trying to take it away from its original place, while they are fighting with the difficult Shakespeare’s text. As later it turns out, mostly because it must give its place to the closing picture, in which meaningfully the rats – according to the reference of the text by words, they are the members of the Scottish society – are eating Macbeth’s head that is pulled on a stick.

The understanding of the performance is bothered by the fact, that only four actors perform it, however – as the fifth one – sometimes the musician jumps in, who becomes a character himself too, from the left-hand side of the stage. Ákos Orosz may never change into any other characters from Macbeth, but Andrea Petrik, who performs Lady Macbeth sometimes appears as one of the members of the choirs of the witches. Zoltán Lendváczky and Erika Tankó perform many roles, between which they change with nice markings, but it does not always help the viewers to know clearly who is talking at the moment, to whom and finally why do they do it. Many times, the text gets over the performance; it makes the actors rigid, who become vax-, alabaster- or marble figures, and because of it the vision of stage gets a panoptic like nature. It matches to the staging conception that is marked in the title, as it is an anatomy, because of it we can see the exposed bodies in a given pose, that is conserved in formaldehyde. Shakespeare’s wonderful language can have a similar effect, but with this, many times appearing static nature, the playfulness disappears again from the actors’ performance. Unfortunately, it can be seen on the performance that this is the first one after the premiere. Sometimes the text gets stuck, sometimes the characters get stuck in the place, this lack of lubrication follows and haunts the whole performance. The showing of the puppet of pencils has been the great promise of the performance, and the play with it, thanks for it, they can put some humour and childish playfulness into some scenes, but the conception is not coherent here too; at the beginning of the performance the puppet is similar to some skeleton like figure of death, which is pulling with itself the cauldron of fate, which hides the head of the thane of Cawdor, then later it appears many times as a “child character”, who like some kind of monkey babies are going up and down on their parents.

We cannot complain because of the quality of the music, maybe only because of the moment, when Macbeth imitates the playing of the guitar, however, it is obvious that the musician, who is standing behind him, performs the sounds. Maybe, the performance would deserve its own music too, I do not feel the hits by The Doors to be very strong choices. Pál Péter Szűcs, who is responsible for the music, plays well, his voice is also good, the unique instruments are wonderful, which would earn to play something unique.

It is an interesting solution to show Szűcs as a Doorman, it can be felt that they try to strengthen the comic line there too, anyway why he would speak with a burr compulsively, but he is totally separated from the performance, his artistic performance moves in a different register than the others, so his performance does not remain anything else than a hopefully but prolonged episode.

At the end of the performance, which is very long, we can feel, that the Maladype has lost the noble fight against Shakespeare. The wonderful set restricts more than catalyse the actors’ performance. The performance is twenty minutes longer than it has been advertised, from it the unoiled nature of the hardly played performance. As the actors have not got the whole performance, or they get so immersed into themselves and in the autopsy of the characters, who are chased by fate, that they cannot express it as actors, and it can be spectacular, the play can be ready to burst out, it remains that kind of Macbeth interpretation, which does not have a real dialogue with the original play, but wants to be something new compulsively.

Ferenc Margl, KULTer.hu, 2013

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

How can Shakespeare’s short, dark, Scottish play become a contemporary performance? There are rats, 3D drawing and a glass guitar – all of it with a little bit of circus-like magic with Zoltán Balázs’ staging in the Macbeth/Anatomy.

The story, which is thought to be a classical one, is given: Macbeth, the criminal play by Shakespeare, which is about the desire for power, the killing of a king and the compulsory punishment. The new performance of Maladype Theatre is prepared from it, which advertises itself according to the idea of the “anatomy of curse”. According to their professional marketing advertisement “they are looking for the balance between the sacral and profane one in a world, which is ruled by the sexual and diabolic powers”. The performance, which wants to deal with taboo topics, also concentrates on the phases of Macbeth’s double personality – according to the advertisement, which promises a lot. However, the main character has more sad eyes, he is a little bit shy, he performs the figure of Hamlet, who talks to ghosts, with his typical asexual attitude. The primer desires, which take over Macbeth’s human side (sexuality and power) remain hidden, in the mask of the middle leader, who fights with his existential difficulties and impotency.

György Katus’ sculpture takes the middle place of the open stage of Trafó, the giant rat skeleton, which is first similar to a dinosaur and Macbeth’ (Ákos Orosz) naked, huddled thinker. All of it is on the lengthened podium, which has been similar since his staging of The Tempest, which speciality in this present time is the sandbox under the skeleton and the glass made structure of glass that can be enlightened, in which vivid rats are running up and down. It needs courage to make so many terrifying animals, which can raise panic, perform in a place, where the auditorium and the stage are not separated. Fortunately the actors are ready to catch some rats when they need to, because they climb out of the set; the soldiers are about to escape, the help arrives at the last moment, and the viewers remain in safety too.

The picture of the rat skeleton burns into the viewers’ minds, but its function remains hidden. The actors take it apart, than put its pieces to somewhere else during the ending scene of the performance, the place of the monster is taken by Macbeth’s head, which is closed in the cage, as the night snack for the rats. It is horrific, expressive and very long. Besides the killers, all the other roles are performed by Zoltán Lendváczky and Erika Tankó, who are fighting through agonizing moments, to be able to dig deep enough the cage into the sand, as the rats are separated only be it, from their desired freedom. Next to shivering, the humour has a special creation too, Róbert Bánky has designed a special character, the man of sticks, who is well known from the virtual world, the 3D puppet of pencils. Its death as Macduff’s son is a grotesque dessert of humour in the darks special atmosphere of the performance.

The dramaturgical mistake is noticeable, which does not come from the (sometimes very small) cuts of the text, but from the translation by Lőrinc Szabó: in the story the Macbeths has no children, anyway the killer refers to the Lady’s (Andrea Petrik) breastfeeding past, while proving her determination to become a queen. Then the husband wants a future male descendant from his wife. Their dialogue can have exceptional importance and attention, as during the performance this is the only moment where sexuality appears. The naked bodies, which appear occasionally, are objective, they are bio sets, and they affect as the figures, which can be known from books of anatomy, they are without any eroticism.

The unique nature of the performance is raised by Péter Üveges’ collection of instruments, the patent of the guitar design, which is called the “system of Y”, which he has shown to the public for the first time. The newish sounding and form world of electronic instruments, which are made of steel, aluminium and glass, is filled with content by Pál Péter Szűcs’ music. As a doorman, his necessary joke is the song by Guns N’ Roses, the Knocking On Heaven’s Door, which we can listen to at the moment of knocking.

Zoltán Balázs’ staging conception is exceptional again. He expects artistic teamwork, the closed examining work before the performance, the resonation on one another from his performing partners. The movements and feelings, which are fixed precisely, cannot fill the auditorium anyway. In spite of the Zoli Balázs-like circus-like magic – the coherence of vision, music, form and content – the play is static and silent. What do deep Freud psychology, the investigative phase studying of the processes of psyche and the reflexions on the double poles nature of the human individuality mean, if there is not any action, and the viewers cannot hear the text?

Emőke Sárosi, Ellenfény online, 2013

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

About two performances of the 10th Shakespeare Festival of Gyula (extract)

This year, at the beginning of June, the Shakespeare Festival in Pécs has been held for the tenth time, this Shakespeare celebration, which can be called to be a fine artistic one too, where usually many exciting performances appear from the plays of the English play writer from the scale of the latest Hungarian and foreign performances, where besides the performances there are classical and popular music concerts too, thematic conferences and exhibitions with which they re-interpret again, what is known as William Shakespeare’s inheritance. One of the most exciting moments of the annual festival is always the new performance, which the Castle Theatre of Gyula always performs in coproduction with another theatre/troupe. This year, together with the National Theatre, the Midsummer Night’s Dream is performed with the staging of the Georgian David Doiashvili. From now on I would write about this performance and about the Macbeth/Anatomy performance (d.: Zoltán Balázs), which also takes place on the festival, and it is performed by the Maladype Theatre. Both performances independently from the genre of the play, which they use as a base, and depended on it they try to find the key in some kind of playfulness. But while in case of Doiashvili the technique and the enchanting performance can make the performance operated, in case of Zoltán Balázs’ performance, the play is a form of cruelty and fighting.

If in case of Doiashvili’s staging the joy based on laugh and tricks are necessary elements, then in the performance, which is directed by Zoltán Balázs, it is surprising that Macbeth can make us laugh freely or smile and deeply terrified at the same time. And the question rises up, that these two really different points of view, how can work together, without extinguishing each other, so how can it happen that the performance can make us forget that we are watching Macbeth, than on the other hand it can make sharp with its special power, the ideas of Shakespeare’s play. The answer of the Macbeth/Anatomy by Maladype is that it takes obvious, that both the most frightening and most wonderful things can exist at the same time, and they can gain meaning together. This clever counterbalancing organises the whole performance, from the set and costume, through the actors’ performances, until the solutions of dramaturgy and staging.

On the middle-sized stage of the lake stage of Gyula, the sets of the performance are placed a little bit strangely, we can hardly see the actors, who appear from the cable tray for example, but I rely on my imagination and I try to remember the place of Trafó, which has accepted the performance. In the place a long, black podium can be seen, in the middle of which, we can see a dinosaur skeleton, which is put into a hole, filled with sand. On the right-hand side there is a corridor singed by cables, behind it there is a musician (Pál Péter Szűcs), who plays with specially designed guitars (Péter Üveges) the music of the performance, which has elector-psychedelic sounding. Behind the podium there are more long lines of cables. All of it seems to indicate, that the performance is going on Macbeth’s (Ákos Orosz) nerve fibres, who himself holds a guitar at one moment of the performance to start a rock-like performance together with Lady Macbeth (Andrea Petrik). The coldness of the silver strings comes back on the tiny chains of the plate-armour of the usurper couple, which are very strange on these human bodies that are shown many times explicitly during the performance. On Macbeth’s soft body, which was naked at the beginning of the performance, an armour and then a royal dress is put on, while Lady Macbeth’s tallness is covered by colourful odd wigs and dresses from rough material, which are similar to the ones of Macbeth. Similarly to it, the story by Shakespeare is also performed in its roughness, dryly and tightly. The performance assumes the knowledge of the play, so it does not take care of the details, and it focuses on the Macbeth couple and the birth of craziness instead. But we do not have to think about anatomy from the psychological point of view, mostly from the points of view of the body and musicality. Maybe, because of the acoustic surrounding, Ákos Orosz as Macbeth speaks dispassionately, and by this simplicity he always emphasises the poetic and text like nature of the play. By Andrea Petrik’s deep voice Shakespeare’s lines are seemed to be clicked. The weird nature of the text becomes evident with the play of the man of sticks, which is performed by Zoltán Lendváczky and Erika Tankó, who perform professionally the other characters: they move this enchanting puppet of sticks together, which cartoon like appearances can make the performance for some moments unexpectedly free and easy.

The strange mixture of elements, effects and styles always stop the viewers to nod comfortably because of the previous knowledge of the play during its stage version. Zoltán Balázs’ staging is always against the original text and all connotation that we have culturally; as the performance itself is fighting against its ancestor. If you like, it is the same kind of usurpation and cruelty, as Macbeth’s royal killing. And if Macbeth tries to find out, how far can he go on the way of living the destructive freedom, and during this experiment, he himself stops existing (the ending scene of the performance with the vivid rats is disgusting and genius at the same time), then Macbeth/Anatomy has similar questions toward Shakespeare’s play too. This later one, so the performance itself, has more success, than our hero, and maybe because of it, while it is deconstructed fully, what we thing about Macbeth, he can use its pieces productively to create a polarizing, changeable performance.

Panna Adorjáni, Játéktér, 2014

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

It is worse to do a brave conception cowardly, than not to accept it, and that way do not do anything. Then people would not accept anything, they are just acting out thing, performing on stage, moralizing a little bit on the stage, and after the applause everybody can go home without any more special pains, and forget about everything short after. But when most of the theatrical properties and a brave idea are also presented for a performance, then all the missed acts on stage can be stabs into Thalia’s heart. It is compromise and bartering away.

The performance of the troupe of Maladype, after we have spent a hundred and thirty minutes in an under-lighted place with bad acoustic, at once indicates that it is the Macbeth, which has gone so far in a weird acoustic trap, towards a totally untouchable and imperceptible, possible ending (fate). After all it is nothing else than a big social metaphor, in which the one with despotic tendency, can get on the throne in a sinful way, and the king, who is crueller and crueller is eaten up by community of rats (mean it by words, with many rats). This must be the “brave” part of it, however, if we leave it, the use of strings, which criticise the political system, means courage as a matter of right. We must admit, it should not be a big thing on its own, then not so many brave things would remain in the artistic conception, which tries to avoid fearfully the concrete ones. But let’s start at the beginning.

The beginning is funny. A pencil puppet, which is similar to the Menő Manó – in Zoltán Lendváczky and Erika Tankó’s hand this puppet can become vivid – tries to carry a basin, which is three times bigger than it is, in it the cut head of an important person can be found. This is a likeable part of the performance; it is a returning figure, together with the punctual and humble puppet work, always become a refreshing phenomenon on the stage. But even then it seems to be fatal, that 1) it is hard to hear the text, which volume has not been matched to the area of the Trafó, 2) basically the actors are working with scales and not interpretations. Mostly in the performance, it does not turn out, that the given sentences – which are strongly cut parts of Macbeth, which concentrates on the morals, colouring, feelings instead of the happenings – are told on behalf of what. Many times the form is more important than the content, then the form also gets tired, and it is endlessly goes on, many times it is monotonous, its slow and reserved flow of text does not want to get into anyway the lines of the viewers. Everything has its meaning, but only a few sentences can get real meaning, which is really painful, because two excellent actors get lost in the form world of the director, which seems to be rather self-serving, like Ákos Orosz and Andrea Petrik, who obviously could be wonderful Macbeth and Lady Macbeth.

Now it can be felt, that somehow Zoltán Balázs’s staging individuality and the actors’ performances (from which, we can see that they do not miss the energy) cannot find a common voice. Because of it, the basically formalist surrounding goes against the reserved, precisely set telling of the text, which must be overthought, and they cancel reliably each other out. The place, which must be fine-artistically interesting with the huge throne of a rat skeleton – also the director’s design – turns out to be useless as a set on stage – or maybe the actors have not got used to it, or maybe the director has not caught up with the set designer. The stylized area, which combines the stylizes text telling with the stylized lights and costumes, stylized music and a little bit cacophonous leading of actors. The constructed gestures cannot find the common voice with the instinctive outburst of feelings in the offered area – it seems to get over that elevated phase, which a stage can handle. And which slows down even more the viewers’ subjective sense of time, is the fact that besides the puppet we can find the sparks of humour only in case of Pál Péter Szűcs’ musician, who is without any trousers, but the whole performance tries to prevent that it can become a little flame, even for a moment. Before the desperate experience of endlessness could take over the auditorium, suddenly a moment happens, which can show theatre again to be a spontaneous, witty and living organism. A rat – who knows how – gets free from behind the carefully closed plastic thing, and it starts walking around the actors’ legs with interest, and it can raise instinctive, childish reactions from the faint viewers. Deus ex machina? If it is then Thalia has a sense of humour at least, but it is for sure, that it marks well: some kind of elemental thing has been missing from the stage up until this moment, without which there is no theatre.

Balázs Zsedényi, 7óra7, 2013

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)

Those photos are important to us, which we cannot see, but somehow with their meanings they are in front of our eyes, a performance can become „visual” in reality, when it is not here, then it turns out, that what has remained on our retinas, in our feelings, in our minds. Surprisingly many boring, even tiring performance can become important later, as the (physical) boredom leaves us, and some ideas, recallable sensuality, real experiences can remain. Other way, some hours of our lives fall out without any traces.

Maybe it would be better if I did not learn even later that how hard the troupe of the Maladype Theatre has worked to perform Macbeth/Anatomy, what kind of rehearsal period is behind it (night rehearsals in an Italian haunted town, the top of the mountain, monastery). Maybe there, on that place the performance can be saved, and can be filled with our imagination thanks for the place, its energies are turned up; it is a common thing. The Trafó seems to be hopelessly big and they are unable to fill it (not with the viewers, they are sitting even on the stairs). The long, crowded performance, which put the viewers to the test, after all still leads to fall apart, even if some pictures of it can be remembered, and the composition is so complicated that a final exam can be written on it.

Macbeth, besides many other plays by Shakespeare, is especially suitable not only for the endless reduction, to be cut into a one-character play, but many ritual theatres – according to this still – have been performed from it. This means that: they will not tell the stories of the play on the stage, we do not get an adaptation, which is in connection with our present world or with the concrete reality, but they find an independent world, which is closed into itself, with its own system of signs and inner stories.

The performances of Maladype can effect with the power of form, when they can. At the same time, many times empty, formal plays are performed by them, especially in big places. The theatrical troupe, which leaves their tiny area behind, seems to be lost, silent and they are unable to be heard now in the Trafó – we cannot understand the actors’ voice, sometimes they seem to be speaking a foreign language, and after a while I give up listening to Lőrinc Szabó’s difficult lines. There are many technical mishaps too, which are not allowed by this kind of ritual performances (the loudspeakers are feeding back, the lightings are bad).

The title refers to the fact that we will be able to see into the depth of the play, which is reduced to the most important things and it is lighted through by X-ray. The vision of the stage brings this kind of metaphors (the set has been made by the director, by Zoltán Balázs), and when I have watched it more, I can see the different elements of the composition, the offered parallels: the instrumental body of the huge set, the strings of the background, the weird guitars – which were simplified from the skeleton-, from the so called skeleton guitars to become string – the skeleton of the fossil, which defines the whole stage or the man of sticks, which is moved as a puppet. The actors’ naked bodies also appear in order to reach “the most important thing” (anyway it is a cleverly used nakedness), as well as the small black rodents that “mean” the rats: all these are important animal-like elements of human inside, these are the metaphors of the bad one, which is inside. This visual system of motifs would become complete, if the possibility of the acceptance by the viewers can be found somehow in this (big) dream by the director. If all these “voice and craziness” (a quote from the Macbeth) can from some kind of meaning in us. If the director held the viewers’ hands little bit more carefully and maybe with more affection, that way he guides us into his world, and he would not get closed in front of us by admiring his pictures, which he has put on one another. So he should communicate somehow with the viewers. All pictures try to have their effects on us, but none of them talks to me. Zoltán Balázs’ skeletons are silent. They remain dead. That is way, I am thinking about that who does not have the synopsis of the bloody handed couple’s story, what can do with “Cawdor’s thane”.

The play, which is stripped into five characters – probably thanks for Zoltán Balázs’ dramaturgical work – cannot express neither that kind of intellectual nor sensual content, which can tell anything about the person, which could fill this more imagined than that kind of form, which was born from a feeling. There is hardly any connection between the characters, the energies go away, it is hard to go on. The play can be called as III. Richard or any other ones from the Elizabethan era – and as it remains on the level of generality, it is the fault of it too.

Ákos Orosz, who is enchanted other times in a small place, now gets lost as Macbeth. Only Andrea Petrik’s appearance on stage, who has got used to bigger stages, can bring some fleeting breakthrough, but either, she cannot sing, or it is impossible in this performance. Pál Péter Szűcs, who creates the music material, and who is important also as an actor, is always exciting, however, he cannot do anything with the technical problems. Zoltán Lendváczky and Erika Tankó remain incomprehensible, no matter how hard they work.

As the English say it: all of it is pretentious, or as it is translated by the dictionary: it is ambitious, loud, sets expectations, sensationalist, arrogant.

Andrea Tompa, Magyar Narancs, 2013

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)