The Challenges of a Multilingual Showcase

Savas Patsalidis*

Micostagiune Showcase in Timișoara, Romania, Jan 30 to Feb 3, 2025.

Timișoara is a multinational Romanian city with 21 nationalities, 18 religions, six universities and 40,000 students. Located on the Bega River, it is considered the unofficial capital of historical Banat, and is well known today as the city where the popular uprising against the Ceaușescu regime began. I visited the city as a guest of the showcase organized by its two major theatres, the Teatrul German de Stat Timișoara and the Teatrul Maghiar de Stat “Csiky Gergely,” both of which are housed in the same building, along with the Opera and the National Theatre.

The building that hosts the German and Hungarian Theatres. Photo: Web/ Wikipedia

Each theatre troupe has its own artistic direction and repertoire; the respective languages are German and Hungarian, with surtitles in Romanian and English. The Hungarian theatre has 28 permanent actors, including 6 puppeteers, and one director; the German theatre has 26 permanent actors and one director. For most of the actors, Hungarian or German is a second language. Although the two theatre organizations share the same building, they rarely collaborate: in fact, the last time they worked together before the present showcase was about a decade ago. Therefore, the Micostagiune Showcase represents the first instance since then of cooperation between the two groups, featuring 7 acclaimed productions from recent years, highlighting diversity, reaffirming the bond between the two minority theatres and enhancing artistic dialogue between communities.

Cloud Tectonics **(Tectonica Norilor)**

The first performance I saw from the German State Theatre was the play by Puerto Rican playwright José Rivera, Cloud Tectonics (1995), a love story between Celestina, a beautiful yet strange 25-year-old who has been pregnant for two years, and Anibal, a Puerto Rican baggage dealer, who meets her while she is hitchhiking in a storm on a road in Los Angeles. He offers her shelter in his home and falls in love with her, as does his brother, Nelson who is about to leave for military service in the war in Bosnia.

*Cloud Tectonics.* The apartment of Anibal, the Puerto Rican baggage dealer. In the photo: Silvia Török (Celestina) and Harald Wiisz (Nelson). Photo: Ovidu Zimcea

In the lovers’ home, time stands still, while the outside world changes and ages rapidly—with the exception of Celestina who continues to be pregnant. On her body, the poetic realism of Rivera’s writing intersects with the imprint of magic realism reminiscent of Gabriel Garcia Márquez. As Silvia Török interpreted the role of Celestina, director László Bocsárdi introduced us to a charming and perpetually strange being. In contrast, Anibal, interpreted by Marc Illich, was portrayed realistically. He had stage energy, the passion of a lover and a good transformative arc, but he lacked humor, a result of his struggle to communicate with Celestina’s curious world. Nelson, portrayed by Harald Weisz, was the more external and one-dimensional character in his portrayal.

*Cloud Tectonics.* In the photo: Marc Illich (Aníbal de la Luna) and Silvia Török (Celestina del Sol). Photo: Ovidu Zimcea

József Bartha’s set design somewhat conveyed through visual means what the names of the characters suggest: Celestina del Sol and Anibal de la Luna, the sun and the moon, embodying the cosmic imagery that pervades the spatial and temporal aspects of the story. The closing scene, with colorful stage objects ascending towards the clear sky, provided a final image of a world without boundaries, where ultimately love and poetry win the day.

*Cloud Tectonics.* Marc Illich’s metamorphosis into an old man. Photo: Ovidu Zimcea

I would suggest that perhaps a stronger touch of surrealism and abstraction might prove more beneficial in conveying the play’s otherworldly atmosphere. Towards this end, Sándor Baumgartner’s lighting design could be utilized more effectively. Also, the materiality of the stage objects kept the work grounded and did not allow it to evolve into a perhaps more revealing and evocative poetic reality.

*Cloud Tectonics.* Harald Weisz (Nelson) in front of the mirror, unable to understand what is going on. Photo: Ovidu Zimcea

Nonetheless, and despite these reservations, the overall performance had many strengths, including good rhythm, coherence and beautiful imagery.

***The Son* (*Der Sohn Fiul)***

Florian Zeller’s acclaimed play The Son (2018) may not display the same intensity as The Father (2012), but it is nonetheless a skillfully crafted work, exhibiting a carefully controlled ebb and flow of emotional intensity that resonates with us. It is a work full of merit and, above all, passion.

The cast of *The Son* in the “Father’s” house. Photo: Courtesy of the Festival

If I were asked to isolate its most obvious weakness, I would say it is the inexplicably clumsy handling of the son’s illness. It is hard to believe the behavior depicted, of two affluent New Yorkers faced with the symptoms of depression. Beyond that, Mădălin Hîncu’s direction, on a set created by Răzvan Bordos which featured an enormous couch adorned with countless pillows, delivered a performance of solid psychological realism, without any attempts at innovation. She produced a coherent whole in which the father’s world, convincingly portrayed by Bülent Özdil, is more prominent, characterized by his egocentrism, his mistakes and the emotional turmoil he experiences.

Oana Vidoni (Sofia) and Bülent Özdil (Father) discussing the problematic behavior of the “Son”. The messy setting reveals the psychological state of all the family members. Photo: Courtesy of the Festival

In contrast, Yannick Becker’s portrayal of the son attempted to convey depth but ultimately fell rather short. We did not feel the intensity of his emotional turmoil or his feelings of being stuck, nor did we sense his constant shifts of mood toward his father. It was also unclear how the two women actually treated him: his mother Anne, played by Enikő Blénessy, appeared to care but did not express it in her behavior; on the other hand, his indifferent stepmother Sofia, portrayed by Oana Vidoni, viewed the son as a hindrance to her relationship with her partner.

In front the ”Father” (Bülent Özdil) and at the back Robert Bogdanov-Schein (left) and the “Son” (Yannick Becker, right) in *The Son.* Photo: Courtesy of the Festival

Although the director of the German State Theatre may not have fully illuminated the many emotional nuances that infiltrate the characters’ relationships, the production did highlight what generally characterizes the author’s writing: his ability to ignite strong emotions.

1978

The Hungarian State Theatre’s performance-documentary 1978, directed by Slovenian Tomi Janežič, based on stories and narratives from members of the Hungarian Theatre, spanned nearly three and a half hours. This multimedia performance of epic scope extended its performative tentacles across three floors of the Polytechnic School building at the University of Timișoara, aiming to demystify the dramatization of a convoluted journey back in time, a hybrid mix of fiction and history, through the lens of a Romanian family living during the Ceaușescu regime in the 1970s.

The poster of the performance. Courtesy of the Festival

From the interior of this family’s home, pathways emerge on the second floor / classroom as memories come to life, leading to traumatic moments and experiences that connect and sometimes haunt the various groups of people in the region, including Romanians, Slovenians and Hungarians.

People are waiting to enter the site of the performance. Photo: Savas Patsalidis

For each of the three acts, the director follows a downward movement from the upper to the lower floors, culminating in a dystopian storage area representing the Isonzo Front, now located in present-day Slovenia. At an intermediate stop on the first floor, we witness the comedic and literal destruction of theatre’s “fourth wall,” a directorial choice that could be interpreted as a symbolic and spatial descent into the heart of darkness, into the concept of violence and the absurdities of human psychology.

Preparing for the opening of the performance in the classroom. Photo: Courtesy of the Festival

The dominant color at the terminus of this vertical and revelatory trajectory is blood red, reminiscent of the horrors of World War I, with the central image an enormous pit that the soldiers themselves dig, eventually to be filled with their bodies.

The set of the first act: τhe classroom. The portrait of Ceaușescu dominates, just as it did on many other walls during his dictatorial rule. Photo: Courtesy of the Festival

The black snow falling on stage signifies the end of the historical and educational panorama depicted, covering approximately 70 years of Romanian history, articulated through a combination of codes of extreme hypernaturalism and postmodern aesthetics.

The audience two-level arrangement in the last act. Photo: Savas Patsalidis

This ambitious pastiche of narratives and events possesses many virtues. For example, it effectively employed the concept of stage play, character transformation and direct audience engagement. The theatrical ingenuity of the eleven actors was noteworthy; their energy, on-stage chemistry and endurance were exceptional, embodying both the artistry and the suffering inherent in their roles.

Soldiers digging their οwn grave. Last act. Photo: Savas Patsalidis

Last act. The basement of the building. Those who are about to die. First World War. Photo: Courtesy of the Festival

My only reservation is the concentration of excessive historical fragments to a point at which the focus of the performance was threatened. From the audience’s perspective, there were several moments during which the kaleidoscope of impressions needed to be simplified in order for clarity to emerge. The more that was offered, the less a spectator’s memory could retain. The ancient saying, “Nothing in excess” is well-known, as is the modernist adage “Less is More.” The direction evidently had a different opinion, opting for the postmodern saying “Less is a bore.” If the director had viewed the world of the performance through the eyes of an unprepared spectator, he might have recognized that after the initial and clear act, the avalanche of changes, the continuous flashbacks and fast forwards obscured rather than illuminated the thread of events. To me, these felt more like verbose fill-ins than substantive additions to the overall trajectory. This is unfortunate, because the performance was otherwise very engaging, compelling, demanding and illuminating.

From the last act. Photo: Courtesy of the Festival.

Conclusion

Space does not allow me to address the other performances I attended, such as The Dragon (Dragonul), directed by the Russian-born theatre actor and director and now a United States citizen, Yuri Kordonsky, with its excellent video integration.

Evgheni Schwarz’sΤhe Dragon, directed by Yuri Kordonsky. Cast: Isa Berger, Robert Bogdanov-Schein, Alma Diaconu, Ioana Iacob, Marc Illich, Alexandru Mihaescu, Harald Weisz. Photo: Ovidu Zimcea

Overall, I gained precious insights from all of the productions, especially as a result of their linguistic diversity and performative solutions. Each performance was a form of exercise, a beneficial dialogue of languages (and styles) where most often, alongside the translation, 3 or 4 languages were intertwined. Such variety within a single artistic project, providing a unique and rare experience for the audience, is to be cherished.

*Savas Patsalidis is Professor Emeritus in Theatre Studies at Aristotle University of Thessaloniki, where he has taught at the School of English for close to 35 years. He has also taught at the Drama School of the State Theatre of Northern Greece, the Hellenic Open University and the graduate program of the Theatre Department of Aristotle University. He is the author of fourteen books on theatre and performance criticism/theory and co-editor of another thirteen. He is on the Executive Committee of the Hellenic Association of Theatre and Performing Arts Critics and the editor-in-chief of Critical Stages/Scènes critiques, the journal of the International Association of Theatre Critics.