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ANDRÁS VISKY involution? According to Madách, yes: a new Ice Age casts humanity into the ranks of the animals, but they yet remain homo religiosus — indeed, unconsciously awaiting the Messiah and thus not even surprised by the sudden appearance of Adam and his cohort. This is the visit of the heavenly ones, and one must not offer them food but show them a sacrifice: offering them the Eskimo’s wife will convince them to show mercy. Blood — this time, a seal’s — the fallen state, and humor, again. (Adam: Zsolt Csata, Eve: Andras Csaba Molnos.) The closing deals with Lucifer in the spirit of Madách, at most adding that the Lord handles the three rascal devils like little pupils: he will put them under stricter discipline in future. MARCH 1, 2020 First throw of the dice. The themes of the warm-up discussion: the poetry of Mircea Dinescu, Artemisia Gentileschi (prompted by The Guardian’s recent article: Artemisia as the baroque heroine of the #Metoo movement) and, well, Caravaggio. It is a threshold situation — one more step and an entirely new life begins. Travel away, new projects, writing. Silviu will begin in Pitesti, with Sirli and Buhagiar (a production based on poems by Mircea Dinescu), I will continue with Woodruff — more precisely, I will restart Caravaggio in Cluj: a reworked revival. Longing for the quiet of my study. Assembling the volume of theatrical studies, of which this diary will also be a part, then, finally, “the” novel. Bucharest: the Securitate archives — I can hardly wait for the research work: I must exhume the history of the female pilot, Nadia Russo: loves, executions, betrayals, staying alive seemingly “by accident” in the era of the dark and vengeful dictatorship. What will I find in the incomplete archives? I must learn whether she actually wrote the will in the prison camp for my mother as she prepared for death. Or was it Mrs. Tereza? Tereza, for sure — but Nadia and our mother: how close did they actually become in the Lager? Answering the question requires that I see Nadia Russo’s handwriting and the material relating to her in the secret police archives. Apocalypse — which, of course, was to be expected after the first throw. But, to our joint surprise, the full rehearsal lasted two hours. Almost unbelievable. “At least the duration is right,” I tell him. “Nothing else is,” he replies. The apocalypse of the first dice throw is a true theatrical experience: I really love these unavoidable collapses because, paradoxically, they validate the existence of the form we have found. Only a production built with such circumspect exactitude can display this picture of near-cataclysmic collapse. It will take no more than two or three rehearsals, and the whole thing will soar. The entire collapse is, as a matter of fact, caused by the lack of masks and the affected personnel’s lack of practice. How can they be sufficiently practiced + 268 +
