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THE TRAGEDY OF MAN AS THEATRUM THEOLOGICUM (A DRAMATURG’S DIARY)
Today’s rehearsal: reading the space. What does the space know; how can
it transmit its knowledge to us? Spatial studies. The space displays the most
resistance during the times of alterations and transition: Purcarete examines
the changes between Madach’s scenes, makes actions and rhythms more pre¬
cise, keeps track of timings — these are all meaning-constitutive components.
For Silviu, the acting space at first presents itself as completely unknown, even
alien. When they installed it, he sat for a long time in the auditorium, gazing at
it endlessly, from different locations, seeming actively to feel the space, without
so much as a tremor. At times he’d stand up and continue the contemplation
that way. Then he’d change locations and “learn” the space’s language from an
entirely new viewpoint. Meanwhile, he’d adjust details, and this, when one is
truly absorbed in it, has a truly captivating effect: after all, these are the fine
tunings. Only a completely rapt dialogue with the space makes it possible to
reveal and learn its possibilities in the theater. Mastering it is impossible since
its possibilities are infinite.
What surprises and catches him unawares is the space’s radical control with
respect to the viewer’s path: the viewer must step into the acting space to take
his seat in the bleachers, and he can only approach it from a single direction.
We mention the space designed by Helmut Stiirmer for the production of Lulu
(2008) in Sibiu, which was a perfect replica of a Renaissance dissection theater,
but there the viewer entered without being able to touch the acting space, con¬
tacting the self-referential zone of erotica and mystery, at once metaphorical
and concrete, from outside. The space of The Tragedy of Man retains the table
of the Lulu space, but here, in contrast, they are of traditional height while
there they were lower and comprised a single long structure.
The Egyptian scene” shows most clearly that the three Lucifers speak to us
— the viewers — and they must not speak the texts to their partners (Adam:
Zsolt Imre Matyas, Eve: Eszter Nikolett Toth). The situation must be expanded
into an existential paradigm using demonstrative, declarative play: lam speak¬
ing neither about Pharaoh nor to him, but to you, viewers — that should be
the actors’ attitude.
Even before their love should be consummated, Eve wraps the Pharaoh’s
body with a bandage, making him already a mummy. This is the conditio hu¬
mana: transformation into a mummy. They wrap us in bandages and shove us
into the crypt that we ourselves have built for ourselves. The lifework, whether
it be a pyramid or a temple, is nothing other than a crypt. When the rehearsal
stops to clear up some technical matter, I remind the actors of our original
intent, which the space magnanimously serves and amplifies, namely — to
be demonstrative. This once, I say this to the company in Romanian, and
Purcarete reinforces the message. I call attention to the echo in this space
74 Madách, Ibid., Scene 4.
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