Building Theatre Bridges in Southeast Europe
Yun-Cheol Kim*
2025 Varna Summer International Theatre Festival: June 1–11, Varna, Bulgaria.
It took a full 20 hours, including airport layovers, to reach Varna from Seoul via Istanbul. Although this was my seventh visit, the Varna Summer Theatre Festival is always remembered by me as an event of “good theatre, beautiful nature and warm people.” Yet, as I set out on this long journey, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this might be my last trip to Varna—a rare moment of sentimentality for me. Long-distance travel and adjusting to the time difference are becoming increasingly difficult. As a critic, maintaining my physical and mental condition at its best before seeing performances is part of my professional ethics, but this is not easy anymore. The morning after my arrival, I looked out the hotel window at dawn and saw pure white seagulls already flying low over the old town. “Good morning!”
This year’s festival especially spotlit Romanian master director Silviu Purcărete, whose adaptation and direction of The Ploughman and Death, based on the early 15th-century German work by Johannes von Tepl, was performed on the second stage of the Drama Theatre. The production by Romania’s National Theatre of Iași, which premiered in 2021, swept numerous theatre awards. Although the second stage had been reopened after years of renovation, it appeared even more cramped than before. However, as soon as the play began, an astonishing spectacle unfolded, overwhelming the audience. A heated and vivid debate between a farmer who recently lost his wife, and Death itself, ensues. As expected, the play concludes with the farmer finally preparing for death with his eyes wide open, but in the process, Purcărete creates an epic reconciliation of life and death by making living actors coexist with their doubles in holograms and giant video projections. Death is, in fact, merely the shadow of the farmer facing his own mortality. When this shadow expands to an enormous size, the presence of unreality overwhelms reality, vividly reflecting the farmer’s existential fear and anxiety. Purcărete’s distinctive philosophical, physical and emotionally intense style remains undiminished. Marvin Carlson, the esteemed scholar who sat beside me for many performances during the festival, named this production as the festival’s finest work.
On June 10, another Romanian masterpiece arrived. Marin Sorescu National Theatre of Craiova, Romania, presented Oedipus Rex, directed by British director Declan Donnellan. Donnellan had also worked with this theatre on Hamlet at the Craiova International Shakespeare Festival last year, suggesting an ongoing collaboration.
Known for creating immersive theatre that deeply engages audiences in the action on minimalist, bare stages, Donnellan is arguably the most fitting director for today’s environmentally conscious theatre. This Oedipus Rex, performed on the second stage, notably emphasized Oedipus’ human weakness, deconstructing the archetypal tragic hero. The stage consisted only of two low platforms and a single microphone. Oedipus uses the mic only when announcing his command to find the murderer who killed his father and married his mother. Creon, a dictator-like figure, dominates the platform while rebuking Oedipus, who appeals from the floor level among the audience (citizens), backed by our collective presence against Creon’s authority. Oedipus remained almost invisible, with only his desperate voice heard from the crowd. The lack of spatial separation between actors and spectators intensified the immersive nature; I collided physically with Oedipus (actor Claudiu Mihail) twice. Still focused on his role, the actor apologized to me with his eyes. Without altering the plot, Donnellan reinterpreted Oedipus’ heroism with his unique vision.
The most striking scene was the ending: Oedipus, now blind and self-exiled, appears completely naked yet liberated, dancing joyfully with Jocasta—who reappears in glamorous attire as if resurrected—symbolizing his release from fate’s curse. The program leaflet warned audiences that “this performance includes non-sexual nudity,” perhaps to soften the shock for conservative viewers.
This Oedipus Rex was actually the second part of a double bill, following Donnellan’s Medea, produced with Bulgaria’s National Theatre. The Medea stage was even lower with only one platform, focusing core scenes there. While this allowed actors to blend into the audience, the immersive element felt slightly—just slightly—less intense than in Oedipus Rex, which ironically helped audience concentration. There was minimal physical contact, and the invisible boundary between actors and spectators allowed deeper immersion—an important note for immersive theatre artists. Donnellan barely deviated from the original plot but explored betrayal, revenge, personal desire and societal expectation through psychological realism. His interpretation suggests that while Medea’s methods are extreme and irrational, they follow strict logic—a timely warning for today’s tech-driven, algorithm-obsessed society. Actress Radina Kardzhilova, as Medea, wore almost no makeup, casual home clothes, disheveled hair and bare feet, amplifying her exposure and intensity with wild eyes full of madness. I was utterly absorbed. She later watched Oedipus Rex from the audience, blending in so completely that her everyday life and role seemed indistinguishable.
Recently, Bulgaria’s National Theatre has greatly expanded its expressive capacity by working with renowned West European directors like Robert Wilson and Declan Donnellan.
On June 6, the main stage of the Drama Theatre featured Bertolt Brecht’s Mother Courage and Her Children by Sofia’s Satirical Theatre, directed by Stoyan Radev. Using classic Brechtian techniques—songs, placards, alienation—the production initially seemed textbook-like. However, designer Nikola Toromanov transcended traditional epic theatre aesthetics with a giant metallic wheel dominating the stage. Mother Courage, fiercely pursuing profit even at the cost of her children’s lives amid the mechanical threat of modern civilization, was no longer a brave 17th-century war merchant but a pawn of malignant capitalism in today’s era where war is reduced to “a deal of the powerful”—an apt satire.
As the fast-paced show unfolded, Albena Pavlova, as Mother Courage, matched sharp wit with rapid movements and speech, overwhelming opponents in negotiation without pause—who could resist such energy? Her lightning-fast emotional shifts were breathtaking. The rest of the cast, stylized almost like commedia dell’arte, contrasted with Pavlova’s vivid characterization. I had rarely seen a Bulgarian actress create such a strong, confident and sharply defined role. Mainly known for comedy, she defied expectations and swept Bulgaria’s top acting awards—deservedly so. Scholar Marvin Carlson mildly lamented that Radev cut too many lines by reducing Brecht’s original twelve scenes to eight, slightly damaging the message. I share some sympathy, believing great theatre benefits from length.
Two documentary theatre pieces deeply moved me. One was 96%, performed by Greece’s National Theatre of Northern Greece at Varna City Art Gallery. It revealed the massacre of 96% (about 50,000) of Thessaloniki’s Jewish residents in Nazi death camps during WWII, using research, street surveys, interviews and re-enactments. The core focus was how Thessaloniki’s Greek citizens participated, ignored or resisted this atrocity. Like the Germans, many locals likely suppressed this shameful memory—the production sharply criticized this denial. My friend Savas Patsalidis, editor of Critical Stages, is from Thessaloniki; I wondered about his reaction but refrained from asking. I do recall that Alexandra Chatzopoulou Saias, a key performer and project leader, was proudly introduced by Savas Patsalidis, her former teacher before the show. Asen Terziev, involved in the festival programming, noted the play’s relevance to Bulgaria as well.
The other documentary that touched me deeply was Anna the Incorrigible, which I saw at the Puppet Theatre. Written by Italian author Stefano Massini, and directed by Nadya Pancheva, Anna the Incorrigible is a tribute to Russian journalist Anna Politkovskaya who was assassinated by Russian agents in 2006 because of her uncompromising commitment to truth and human rights in favor of those Chechens persecuted and executed by Russians. Like 96%, this piece is also a lecture performance combined with reportage and reenactment. It graphically exposes and strongly protests against the brutal atrocities committed by Russia, laying bare the same cruelty revealed in the recent invasion of Ukraine. I rarely give standing ovations at curtain calls, but this time I did, enthusiastically.
The Bulgarian Ministry of Culture’s sharp budget cuts likely spurred more regional Balkan participation this year. With the global economy expected to decline further, partly due to Trump’s influence, the future remains uncertain. Yet, I salute the organizers for their meaningful festival design despite these formidable obstacles.
*Yun-Cheol Kim (PhD), served as President of the International Association of Theatre Critics (IATC) from 2008 till 2014. During his presidency he launched IATC’s webjournal Critical Stages in 2009. Now he is an honorary president of the association. He served as artistic director of the National Theatre Company of Korea for four years from 2014 till 2017. He retired from the School of Drama, Korean National University of the Arts in 2015, where he taught for twenty years and is now its honorary professor. He received the Cultural Order from the Korean government in 2008. Two-time winner of the Critic of the Year Award, he has recently published his thirteenth book, Promenade into Contemporary European Theatre in the 21st Century.
Copyright © 2025 Yun-Cheol Kim
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.
