Risk, Bravery and Theatre or The End and the Beginning of the Free World: Interview with Märt Meos
Inna Grünfeldt* and Katarina Tomps**
Founded in 2010, the Vaba Lava (Free Stage) Foundation has become a vital force in Estonian theatre, known for championing freedom of expression and supporting independent voices. In 2021, Vaba Lava launched the Freedom Festival in Narva, a border town between Estonia and Russia, a symbolic location at the crossroads of East and West.
Initiated by theatre producer and managing director Märt Meos, the festival brings together artists from regions plagued by censorship, repression, and political conflict. Its program highlights urgent themes such as freedom, censorship, and social upheaval, featuring productions from Central Asia, the Caucasus, the Middle East, and beyond.
At its heart, the Freedom Festival is a platform for voices that face persecution, or even death, for their artistic expression. As Meos puts it, “It seems that theatre is the most dangerous thing in the eyes of a dictator.”
In the conversation that follows, we speak with the festival’s artistic director about the challenges and responsibilities of curating a festival at the fault line between civilizations, and why, now more than ever, declaring freedom on stage matters.
Märt Meos recalls that when the festival was first launched, the name, Freedom Festival, often raised eyebrows. Some even questioned it with a hint of criticism. But for Meos, the reason was clear: freedom doesn’t simply exist; it must be defended, again and again.
“Freedom is always a relevant topic,” he explains, “because censorship continues to thrive in many parts of the world. Artists and cultural figures are still pressured to create work that pleases authoritarian regimes.”
The Freedom Festival was born out of a need, a lack of any existing platform where theatre-makers from both East and West could meet. “Before this, there was no space for that kind of exchange,” Meos says. Now, every two years in Narva, theatre companies from the former Soviet Union, Central Asia, the Caucasus, and beyond gather alongside their Western counterparts to share their work and experiences.
When the festival began, the Bridge of Friendship connecting Estonia and Russia was still open. “Narva is a perfect meeting point,” Meos reflects. “It’s the end of the free world on one side, and the beginning of the free world—with its lights and glitter—on the other.”
Things have changed, Meos acknowledges. Today, freedom is no longer an abstract theme, it’s something we think about every day. “We can’t talk about the world without talking about Ukraine anymore,” he says. “These stories need to be told, again and again.”
One of the festival’s core goals is to spotlight theatre groups that are rarely seen in Europe. Finding them requires active outreach, traveling to different countries, witnessing firsthand where and how theatre is being made, often under extraordinary conditions.
“They’re incredibly brave,” Meos says. “Some of this theatre is created in environments where freedom, and even people’s lives, are at risk.”
For Märt Meos, the message behind the Freedom Festival is far from symbolic. “These are not just empty words,” he emphasizes.
He recalls meeting a theatre artist from Tajikistan, now serving a 10-year prison sentence on terrorism charges. “He had nothing to do with terrorism,” Meos says. “He was an actor and a YouTuber who raised awareness about social issues. He just wanted to make theatre. Now he’s behind bars.”
The risks faced by artists are not new. In 2007, renowned Uzbek theatre director Mark Weil was murdered in Tashkent. His Ilkhom Theatre, one of the most influential private theatres in the region, had long been a regular guest at festivals across Europe.
Each edition of the Freedom Festival has focused on a different dimension of liberty. The first tackled free speech and censorship. The second explored freedom of thought, expression, and creation. This year’s edition (2025) takes a broader view, examining freedom in light of the seismic shifts reshaping the world.
“The true value of freedom has become clearer to us through these festivals,” Meos reflects. He notes that when the idea was first born, the political climate wasn’t as dire, but the warning signs were already there. That sense of foreboding was captured in Mein Kampf, a provocative production by young Polish director Jakub Skrzywanek.
At the inaugural festival, Meos recalls bringing together the producer of Ilkhom Theatre and the director of Mein Kampf, a moment of symbolic and artistic unity. The second festival saw another powerful collaboration: Underground Girls, a searing production about women in Afghanistan.
“When co-productions like these are born,” Meos says, “we know the festival has done its job.”
Why do people risk their lives for theatre? “I guess human beings are created free by nature,” says Märt Meos. “Theatre is a way to fight for that freedom. There are many who are brave enough to take the risk, and these are the kinds of theatre-makers we look for at the Narva festival.”
He shares an example from Ode to Freedom, a production in which a young woman from Kyrgyzstan speaks candidly about what freedom means to her. “It was an act of great courage,” Meos reflects. “In her home country, she has to hide those thoughts. I remember thinking, if she had performed this piece in Kyrgyzstan, she might never have made it to our festival.”
Theatre, he says, is feared because of its power. “It seems that theatre is the most dangerous thing in the eyes of a dictator.”
Märt Meos also speaks of his close friend Barzu Abdurazzakov, a prominent Tajik theatre director and a key figure at the 2023 edition of the Freedom Festival. In various interviews, Abdurazzakov has described how Tajik culture was systematically silenced in the early 1990s, a time of devastating violence that went largely unnoticed in the West.
“Central Asia lies between Russia and China, far from the European free world,” Meos explains. “When 250,000 people were killed, it barely made the headlines in Western media.”
Abdurazzakov recounted harrowing memories: bodies lying in the streets each morning; the grim task of collecting the remains of fellow theatre-makers; the overwhelming sense that his culture, his nation, might never recover. “He speaks of a feeling that Tajik culture has been destroyed forever,” Meos says. “That what happened was nothing less than a genocide.”
And now, Meos adds, “Russia is trying to do the same in Ukraine.”
This year’s festival program featured productions from Estonia, Ukraine, Pakistan, Turkey, Georgia, Kuwait, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, and Chile. For curators Märt Meos and Allan Kaldoja, assembling the lineup was both a challenge and a deeply rewarding journey.
“We were genuinely curious about these countries,” Meos explains. “We’ve tried to find theatre-makers who are not only compelling artistically but also courageous, those who take real risks with their work.”
The process took them across thousands of kilometers and through more than a hundred performances. “It wasn’t just about selecting shows,” Meos says. “We’ve become richer in spirit through this experience.”
Märt Meos emphasizes that for an international festival to make a real impact, it must attract international producers. “Nobody travels to Central Asia,” he says. “But if you bring theatres from there to Narva, there’s hope that someone will come. Narva is still Europe.”
While last year’s edition focused on Central Asia, this year’s festival took a broader approach. One of Meos’s discoveries came during his time as a jury member at one of the largest Arabic theatre festivals in Cairo.
“It was a completely new world to me,” he says. “Many people don’t even realize that there’s a vibrant theatre scene in Arab countries, but there is. They have several festivals, and a strong artistic community.”
One production selected for Narva, Mute, is a collaboration between artists from Kuwait, Syria, and Lebanon, countries that are currently in the international spotlight for very different reasons. “Theatre is being made there too,” Meos notes. “And this particular production isn’t just politically important, it also has high artistic value.”
The decision to hold the Freedom Festival every two years, alternating summers with the international performing arts festival Baltoscandal in Rakvere, was a deliberate one. Both festivals take place during the summer months, which allows the entire town to get involved. Many performances are held outdoors, creating a more accessible and communal atmosphere.
“Our festival is usually held around August 20,” Meos says. “That date carries deep meaning for us, it marks the restoration of Estonian independence in 1991.”
Despite the global relevance of Ukraine’s ongoing war, Meos notes that Estonian theatre has been surprisingly quiet on the subject. “Out of 150 premieres a year, only four or five new productions about Ukraine have appeared over the last four years,” he says. “And two of those were staged at Vaba Lava.”
When it comes to building a theatre audience in Narva, Märt Meos admits it hasn’t been easy.
“Because of the war in Ukraine, the situation has become even more polarized,” he says. “Some people in Narva see our theatre as a propaganda tool of the Estonian state, because we produce work in Estonian and conduct Estonian business. We also have a Ukrainian flag on the wall in our lobby. That alone makes things more complicated.”
During the last festival, two Ukrainian flags were stolen from the flagpoles in front of the theatre, an act that Meos believes reflects part of the local sentiment toward Ukraine. “But who should we work with in Narva?” he asks. “With the youth, of course, because they are the future. The older generations, influenced by the aggressive neighbor’s media, are much harder to reach. Sadly, most still are.”
Yet there are also moments of hope. Meos shares a story from when he was arranging accommodation for participants in a project involving Ukrainian war veterans.
“I was a bit worried, would there be problems hosting them in Narva?” he recalls. “I told one of the accommodation providers honestly that these were Ukrainian veterans, some injured, some still in recovery. He looked at me with wide eyes and said, ‘They’re my countrymen. I’ve been waiting to talk to someone about the war.’ Then he brought out a Ukrainian flag from somewhere. He was so happy. So no, it’s not all the same in Narva.”
Meos estimates that about 20% of the festival’s audience comes from Narva itself.
“Narva is a Russian-speaking city, so we also include productions in Russian,” he explains. “And every performance is translated into Russian to make sure nothing is lost. But a large part of our audience comes from all over Estonia and beyond. Over 120 international guests attended the festival this year. That’s the kind of cross-section we’re building.”
Still, he’s realistic about the impact. “Neither Vaba Lava nor the Freedom Festival can make Narva more Estonian on their own,” he says. “But if theatre can change anything at all, then Narva is the right place to try.”
The change is already visible. In 2022, many locals attended 100% Narva, a production by the German documentary theatre company Rimini Protokoll, which featured one hundred Narva citizens on stage. The Freedom Festival has continued this momentum, drawing audiences and returning visitors. “Narva is exciting,” Meos says. “Everyone who comes here comes back. You can see it.”
Theatre in Narva is more than an artistic act, it is a strategic and social necessity. In a city where most residents speak a different language and where public space is deeply entangled in a neighboring power’s cultural and political influence, theatre offers a vital counterbalance. It builds cultural bridges, fosters dialogue, and creates space for free thought.
Through Vaba Lava and the Freedom Festival, Narva is opened to the world—and the world is brought to Narva. In doing so, these initiatives strengthen the community and affirm that theatre can be a vibrant defender of democracy and freedom, especially in places where those values are most under threat.
Ιnterviewers’ Postscriptum
Vaba Lava is an independent Estonian theatre and performing arts center, with vibrant hubs in both Tallinn and Narva. Committed to creative freedom, innovation, and collaboration, it actively partners with artists and institutions across Estonia and internationally. The theatre’s programming is agile and responsive, addressing current societal issues through deeply personal and collective narratives on stage.
Renowned for its daring productions, documentary theatre, and cross-genre experimentation, Vaba Lava stands out for its unique two-year thematic curatorial programs. These are spearheaded by distinguished guest curators from abroad, who bring fresh perspectives and inspire original works. Recent curators include Marius Ivaškevičius (Lithuania), Harald T. Rosenstrøm (Norway), and Jakub Skrzywanek (Poland).
Unlike traditional repertory theatres, Vaba Lava operates on a project-by-project basis, maintaining a lean administrative and technical team. Each production assembles a new collective, primarily drawing on freelance actors and artists, fostering dynamic and diverse creative environments.
Beyond its own stages, Vaba Lava provides performance spaces for small theatres and independent groups, supporting Estonia’s broader performing arts community. Its influence extends nationally and internationally, with Vaba Lava being Estonia’s most prolific spoken-word theatre on the global stage in recent years. Many of its acclaimed projects emerge from fruitful collaborations with international theatre companies.
In a world of rapid change, Vaba Lava champions openness, critical inquiry, and artistic courage, believing firmly in the power of performing arts to illuminate pressing social issues and inspire new ways of thinking.
*Inna Grünfeldt (born 1961) graduated from the University of Tartu in 1984 with a degree in Estonian philology and completed the Estonian Theatre Association’s criticism seminar. She has worked in the research bibliography department of the University of Tartu library and, since 1997, has been a cultural journalist for the Lääne-Virumaa county newspaper Virumaa Teataja. Grünfeldt is a member of the Estonian Association of Theatre Researchers and Critics and serves on the juries for the Virumaa Literature Prize and the Eduard Vilde Literature Prize.
**Katarina Tomps (born 1993) is a theatre producer and researcher based at Vaba Lava, Estonia. In addition to working in Estonian theatre, she has collaborated with directors from Finland, Poland and emigrated directors from Belarus, and Russia. She holds a master’s degree in theatre studies from the University of Tartu and is an active member of the Estonian Association of Theatre Researchers and Theatre Critics.
Copyright © 2025 Inna Grünfeldt and Katarina Tomps
Critical Stages/Scènes critiques, #32, December 2025
e-ISSN: 2409-7411
This work is licensed under the
Creative Commons Attribution International License CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.
