Before the Gate, a Rain of Light
Octavian Szalad*
Én vagyok a szél / I am the wind by Jon Fosse. Hungarian translation by Zsófia Domsa. Direction Gábor Tompa. Set and costume design by Gyopár Bocskai. Choreography by Enikő Györgyjakab. Music composed by Csaba Boros. Lighting design by Romeo Groza. Co-repetition Zsolt András. Assistant director Dorottya Képíró. Stage manager Réka Zongor. Cast: Zsolt Gedő as The One and Loránd Farkas as The Other. The Women’s Chorus: Andrea Kali , Emőke Kató , Gizella Kicsid, Anikó Pethő, Júlia Laczó, Csilla Varga. Produced by The Hungarian Theatre of Cluj, Romania, 13th of February 2025.
In his staging of Én vagyok a szél / I Am the Wind by Nobel Prize-winning author Jon Fosse at the Hungarian Theatre of Cluj, director Gábor Tompa continues his artistic endeavor to explore the theatrical means found in plays that align with what Hungarian-born critic Martin Esslin called the Theatre of the Absurd. In recent years, particularly in the post-pandemic era, Tompa’s work has returned more sharply to this interest, which helped establish him as a leading figure on the Romanian theatre scene. His latest productions have focused more on works by the French-Romanian playwright Eugène Ionesco, his latest production being Stroll in the Air at the Lucian Blaga National Theatre, Cluj in 2024.
This homecoming of the director to the Theatre of the Absurd more often than not emphasizes the political and cultural conflicts of the play’s worlds, exploring the dehumanization of the individual and the internal struggles within society. However, I Am the Wind takes a distinct turn in this regard, shifting from a political perspective to a spiritual one. The production places significant emphasis on Christian music, filling the atmosphere with the feeling of a prayer or even a full liturgy that retraces the cycle of birth, life, death and rebirth. This musical arrangement, created by theatre composer Csaba Boros, transforms the performance into something akin to a theatrical Gregorian chant, reflecting on life, loss and the passage between realms of existence from a deeply Christian perspective. The production is dedicated, as a heartfelt requiem, to the memory of the late actress Tekla Tordai, the director’s longtime partner, whose passing left a profound mark on the performance. As such, the choice of venue, the Hungarian Theatre of Cluj, where Gábor Tompa has been the manager for over 35 years and where Tekla Tordai was employed, adds an even more intimate layer to the entire context.
In Jon Fosse’s 2007 play, two anonymous characters find themselves drifting in a boat along an uninhabited shore. These characters are distinguished only by their desires: one longs to venture further into the open sea, while the other is hesitant, fearful of its unpredictable waves and endless horizon, feeling a stronger pull toward the solid ground of the shore. They are simply called The One and The Other, embodying a conflict between two opposing ideals. I Am the Wind delves into one of the recurring themes in Fosse’s plays, that of suicide, and the act of surrendering to the call of the sea.
In the vision of director Gábor Tompa and scenographer Gyopár Bocskai, the boat is replaced by the abandoned salon of a World War I hospital. The empty, desolate room is sparsely furnished, with only a hospital bed and a wheelchair. From beneath the peeling paint on the walls, the faint shapes and diluted colors of old Christian icons emerge, framing the central door of the salon, symbolizing either the gates of heaven or the Dantesque portal from The Divine Comedy. On one side, there is an image of the Holy Mother and child, flanked by two angels; on the other, the imposing figure of an old bearded saint, perhaps The Father, awaiting the return of the son or daughter to complete the image between them. This visual world, which is crucial to the play’s atmosphere, is dominated by the production’s defining color motif, a pale, sanitary green, reminiscent of the algae-infested waters of the Black Sea. In choosing the hospital salon, Gábor Tompa reflects on the idea of the hospital as a liminal space where the soul embarks on an initiatory journey towards an unknown destination.
The One and The Other appear as two embodiments: one representing The Son, wrapped in white bandages that cover his body like the holy shroud or, more closely, the mummified form of the Egyptian god Osiris; the other, an apostle who, fearfully, treads the path of salvation through the valley of grief, seeking the possibility of safety. The two actors, Zsolt Gedő and Loránd Farkas, in the respective character order, explore this tender relationship between the dying one and the grieving witness. Zsolt Gedő, as The One, portrays a young and exhausted figure, whose impending death paradoxically awakens in him a conflict between his desire to live in and to leave this known world. Loránd Farkas as The Other embodies the protective, compassionate figure who seeks to ease the passage of time and safeguard, to the best of his ability, his fragile companion.
For this production, departing from the playwright’s indications, director Gábor Tompa introduces, in addition to the main duo, a chorus of women who embody various aspects of universal and Christian mythology. At different moments, they take on roles such as nurses tending to the dying patient, sirens luring sailors to their doom on the jagged rocks of the fjords, or angels who come to guide the spirit of the departing and sing of his rebirth. Near the end of the journey, Gábor Tompa envisions the women’s chorus as a reaffirmation of the protective mother figure who gave birth to the individual and returns to the mind of the dying as they approach the end. This maternal presence, much like the Holy Mother at the foot of the cross, underscores the essential role of the mother as a carer.
In the end, two symbolic elements ultimately define this rite of passage: water and light, both powerful symbols of purification. Water represents the holy baptism that cleanses the original sin, while light purifies the sins committed in life. Through the grates above the hallway, leading toward the central entrance (or exit) of the salon, water drips and light pours forth, healing the wounds of the soul and embracing it in eternity. Like the damned figures in a Katabasis icon, the women’s chorus forms a circle around the water and light, desperately attempting to immerse themselves in them, driven with the urgency of an addict seeking his fix. After this, when the journey of this universal figure nears its end, we are left to reflect on our own road that – more often than not, if we follow the news programs—will eventually take us to the same hospital salon.
Packed with hidden messages about the human journey and the triumph of life over death, the show succeeds in building a tangible world, where theological ideas are analyzed in a cold, codified, rational manner, appealing for the over-scientific way that contemporaneity values the outer and inner worlds. It reflects the director’s personal, intimate exploration, while skilfully generalizing the context to resonate with a wide audience.
*Octavian Szalad is a researcher, theatrologist and theatre critic. Editor at Teatrul azi and book editor/reviewer at the Camil Petrescu Cultural Foundation. He is a PhD student at the National University of Theatre and Film “I.L. Caragiale” in Bucharest, researching the history of puppet theatre in Romania. He is editor for the CONCEPT Academic Journal.
Copyright © 2025 Octavian Szalad
Critical Stages/Scènes critiques, #31, June 2025
e-ISSN: 2409-7411
This work is licensed under the
Creative Commons Attribution International License CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.
