{"id":625,"date":"2025-06-24T18:20:10","date_gmt":"2025-06-24T18:20:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/31\/?p=625"},"modified":"2026-05-21T17:50:00","modified_gmt":"2026-05-21T17:50:00","slug":"stage-worlds-of-poetry-and-human-passions-iasi-national-theatre-showcase","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/31\/stage-worlds-of-poetry-and-human-passions-iasi-national-theatre-showcase\/","title":{"rendered":"Stage Worlds of Poetry and Human Passions: Iasi National Theatre Showcase"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Savas Patsalidis<\/strong>*<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What stands out in my memory from my second visit to Iasi, which extended from 30 November to 7 December 2024? If I were pressed to pinpoint the most remarkable part of the festival, undoubtedly it would be the flawless organization of the festival and the graciousness of our hosts, who made sure our entire experience was enjoyable. The captivating and diverse lineup of performances also left a lasting impression.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Lysistrata, Mon Amour<\/em> (Lysistrata, dragostea mea<\/em>) by Matei Visniec. Directed by Zal\u00e1n Zakari\u00e1s. A musical version of Aristophanes classic antiwar satire. In the middle of the picture is the leader of the sex strike Lysistrata played by the talented Diana Roman. Photo: George Popovici. Courtesy of the Festival<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Among the six (out of seven) performances I attended, three carried the signature of the renowned and award-winning Romanian director Radu Afrim. One could argue that this showcase served as a mini tribute to his work, and rightly so.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Similar to other renowned Romanian directors like Silviu Purc\u0103rete and Andrei \u0218erban, Afrim creates a distinct and recognizable stage universe populated by everyday people, showcasing both their virtues and flaws. His works depict human microcosms rich with themes such as disappearance, homecoming, betrayal, scapegoating, fragility, victimization, traumatization, denial of freedom, violence, migration, boredom, desolation, death, rebirth, nostalgia, youthfulness, and childhood memories.[1]<\/sup><\/a> Collectively, these worlds weave a revealing tapestry that reflects contemporary Romanian history, which he poignantly described as \u201cdrowning culturally, educationally\u201d (Rusiecki 13). This statement, made in 2013, emphasizes his pursuit of a more radical method for portraying the challenges of his homeland.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Radu Afrim. Photo: Claudia Gorun. Courtesy of Radu Afrim<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Since then, he has sought solutions inspired by contemporary issues, but without the confrontational stance of the earlier years. Now, with greater self-assurance and a more assimilated set of artistic tools, along with a clearly different and more receptive audience, he no longer feels the need to shout or provoke to make his voice heard. He is well known and established within the mainstream, though this doesn\u2019t mean that his earlier style has disappeared. On the contrary, while he draws from the well of everyday realism for his ideas and characters, he still diverges significantly from the conventional approach to familiar realism that typically presents psychologically and emotionally well-rounded portraits. His characters emerge through fragmented actions and unpredictable reactions, indicating that he does not conform to the principles of psychological theatre realism. Instead, he aims to highlight the theatricality of his subjects, drawing from a range of influences such as the grotesque, melodrama, pop culture, and technology. These elements find their significance and presence on stage through a carefully calibrated use of performative exaggeration, characterized by an overall theatrical style and behavior encompassing gestures, facial expressions, speech, playfulness, stylized movements, colors, makeup and soundscapes. In the insightful reflections below, he articulates his motivations for directing:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I started directing because I wanted to combine painting, poetry, architecture and literature. [\u2026] [F]or me a work is good when it manages to break as many of the textbook rules of directing as possible. When it contains a sufficient dose of energy of uncertain provenance and a slice of ephemerality is delivered by heavy goods vehicles, [\u2026] if the relationships between the characters are completely unpredictable, then it\u2019s almost perfect (Rusiecki 198).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Afrim undeniably belongs to the category of auteur<\/em> creators. His stage grammar diverges from established conventions, following more fluid structures and more oblique pathways, one of which is his propensity to engage with texts not originally intended for the stage, such as prose writings, poetry, memoirs, and biographies. While he does not dismiss traditional dramatic texts, he appears to be more attracted to works that allow him greater latitude for creative and personal expression.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This approach, while inviting, does present challenges, as not all original material is suitable for the dynamics and demands of the theatrical medium. Some works, despite their quality within their respective genres, may struggle to convey their essence effectively, lacking the immediacy required for theatrical discourse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

These very brief comments serve as a prelude to the work of a great artist, who, upon his debut, created a stir among the audience and critics due to his style of directing, his engagement with his international theatrical models, and more generally his unique approach to managing theatrical and interpretative codes, dramatic forms, character development and current social trends and issues. It is no coincidence that from the beginning, a large portion of his audience has been, and still is, young people, those individuals who are always ready to embrace change, the unfamiliar, the new, the visionary. It is not an exaggeration to say that Afrim’s presence, although controversial at first, would later prove to be the key factor in the transformation of Romanian theatre. It is also important that the Romanian theatre public is now far more mature, more cosmopolitan and receptive to new ideas, more willing to adopt a policy of tolerance, qualities that are necessary for the legitimation of an art form which a few years ago triggered tensions and controversies. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Having said that, we will now shift our focus to the primary subject of this short article: the three performances I attended in Iasi in 2024.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Time for Joy<\/em><\/strong> (Zi de bucurie<\/em>)<\/strong><\/h5>\n\n\n\n

Time for Joy<\/em>, authored by Norwegian playwright Arne Lygre, releases an aura of Scandinavian psychology and temperament infused with elements reminiscent of Jon Fosse, and an atmosphere akin to Samuel Beckett. This play resonates on a universal level, engaging with fundamental human themes and concerns such as loss, grief, sadness, desire, and, most prominently, joy. It explores how individuals derive joy from their lives by pursuing their unique paths. A notable example is the character of the Mother of the play, who perceives the community cemetery, particularly the specific location where she wishes to be interred, as the ideal place to reunite with her two children. However, only her eldest daughter responds to her call, while her son remains absent. No one knows if he will appear.<\/p>\n\n\n

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Time for Joy<\/em> (Zi de bucurie<\/em>). Stage design: Anna Kupas. Choreography: Alice Veliche. Photo: Radu Afrim. Courtesy of the Festival<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Gradually, the cemetery becomes populated with people who have experienced the loss of their loved ones, coming to leave flowers or simply to chat. These individuals want to feel part of a collective experience, each carrying their own narratives and personal stories that they wish to express. Ironically, they find attentive listeners in a space where life stories and experiences ultimately converge to a close.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The playwright adeptly and thoughtfully explores the seemingly ordinary lives of these individuals, illuminating their fears, passions, tensions, loves and joys, as well as the profound sorrow of abandonment. Dramatic figures emerge unexpectedly within the encompassing context of these stories, only to vanish just as swiftly, as if conjured from our imagination, denying us the opportunity to fully understand them. This raises pertinent questions, such as the following:<\/p>\n\n\n\n