{"id":348,"date":"2025-11-02T17:49:26","date_gmt":"2025-11-02T17:49:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/32\/?p=348"},"modified":"2025-12-21T10:04:39","modified_gmt":"2025-12-21T10:04:39","slug":"risk-bravery-and-theatre-or-the-end-and-the-beginning-of-the-free-world-interview-with-mart-meos","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.critical-stages.org\/32\/risk-bravery-and-theatre-or-the-end-and-the-beginning-of-the-free-world-interview-with-mart-meos\/","title":{"rendered":"Risk, Bravery and Theatre or The End and the Beginning of the Free World: Interview with M\u00e4rt Meos"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Inna Gr\u00fcnfeldt<\/strong>*<\/a> and Katarina Tomps<\/strong>**<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Initiated by theatre producer and managing director M\u00e4rt 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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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, \u201cIt seems that theatre is the most dangerous thing in the eyes of a dictator.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the conversation that follows, we speak with the festival\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
Vaba Lava Theatre House during the Theatre Festival. Photo: Jelizaveta Gross<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

M\u00e4rt 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\u2019t simply exist; it must be defended, again and again.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cFreedom is always a relevant topic<\/em>,\u201d he explains, \u201cbecause censorship continues to thrive in many parts of the world. Artists and cultural figures are still pressured to create work that pleases authoritarian regimes<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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. \u201cBefore this, there was no space for that kind of exchange<\/em>,\u201d 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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When the festival began, the Bridge of Friendship connecting Estonia and Russia was still open. \u201cNarva is a perfect meeting point<\/em>,\u201d Meos reflects. \u201cIt\u2019s the end of the free world on one side, and the beginning of the free world\u2014with its lights and glitter\u2014on the other<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Things have changed, Meos acknowledges. Today, freedom is no longer an abstract theme, it\u2019s something we think about every day. \u201cWe can\u2019t talk about the world without talking about Ukraine anymore,\u201d<\/em> he says. \u201cThese stories need to be told, again and again.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the festival\u2019s 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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey\u2019re incredibly brave,\u201d<\/em> Meos says. \u201cSome of this theatre is created in environments where freedom, and even people\u2019s lives, are at risk.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
\u201cWho Am I?\u201d Directed by Merle Karusoo, documentary performance with Ukrainian war veterans. Photo: Jelizaveta Gross<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

For M\u00e4rt Meos, the message behind the Freedom Festival is far from symbolic. \u201cThese are not just empty words<\/em>,\u201d he emphasizes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He recalls meeting a theatre artist from Tajikistan, now serving a 10-year prison sentence on terrorism charges. \u201cHe had nothing to do with terrorism<\/em>,\u201d Meos says. \u201cHe was an actor and a YouTuber who raised awareness about social issues. He just wanted to make theatre. Now he\u2019s behind bars<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\u2019s edition (2025) takes a broader view, examining freedom in light of the seismic shifts reshaping the world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe true value of freedom has become clearer to us through these festivals<\/em>,\u201d Meos reflects. He notes that when the idea was first born, the political climate wasn\u2019t 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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the inaugural festival, Meos recalls bringing together the producer of Ilkhom Theatre and the director of Mein Kampf<\/em>, a moment of symbolic and artistic unity. The second festival saw another powerful collaboration: Underground Girls, a searing production about women in Afghanistan.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhen co-productions like these are born<\/em>,\u201d Meos says, \u201cwe know the festival has done its job<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
Ode to freedom<\/em>. Kyrgyz girl talking about herself. Photo: Jelizaveta Gross<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Why do people risk their lives for theatre? \u201cI guess human beings are created free by nature,\u201d<\/em> says M\u00e4rt Meos. \u201cTheatre 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.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He shares an example from Ode to Freedom<\/em>, a production in which a young woman from Kyrgyzstan speaks candidly about what freedom means to her. \u201cIt was an act of great courage,\u201d<\/em> Meos reflects. \u201cIn 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.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Theatre, he says, is feared because of its power. \u201cIt seems that theatre is the most dangerous thing in the eyes of a dictator.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

M\u00e4rt 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.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCentral Asia lies between Russia and China, far from the European free world,\u201d<\/em> Meos explains. \u201cWhen 250,000 people were killed, it barely made the headlines in Western media.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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. \u201cHe speaks of a feeling that Tajik culture has been destroyed forever,\u201d<\/em> Meos says. \u201cThat what happened was nothing less than a genocide.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now, Meos adds, \u201cRussia is trying to do the same in Ukraine.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
Free Roaming Mares<\/em>, a performance about LGBTQ+ protest in Santiago 1973. Photo: Ilja Smirnov<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

This year\u2019s festival program featured productions from Estonia, Ukraine, Pakistan, Turkey, Georgia, Kuwait, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, and Chile. For curators M\u00e4rt Meos and Allan Kaldoja, assembling the lineup was both a challenge and a deeply rewarding journey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe were genuinely curious about these countries,\u201d<\/em> Meos explains. \u201cWe\u2019ve tried to find theatre-makers who are not only compelling artistically but also courageous, those who take real risks with their work.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The process took them across thousands of kilometers and through more than a hundred performances. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t just about selecting shows,\u201d<\/em> Meos says. \u201cWe\u2019ve become richer in spirit through this experience.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n