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OCR
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 precise, 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, contacting 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 speaking 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 humana: 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. e 261"
