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Czech Theatre 24
Czech
THEATRE
24
Czech
THEATRE
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24
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CONTENTS
Jana Machalická
COMEDY THEATRE – THE LAST REFUGE OF TRUE ART? .......................................... 5
Jana Patočková
A NEW TRIAL ................................................................................................................ 21
Kamila Černá
J. A. PITÍNSKÝ AND THE CLASSICS............................................................................ 27
Jana Machalická
THE CZECH WEB OF THEATRE – CZECH AND MORAVIAN REGIONAL THEATRES ...........................37
Roman Vašek
A SURVEY OF CZECH BALLET BETWEEN 2005 AND 2007 ....................................... 53
Marie Zdeňková
LOOKING BACK AT THE PRAGUE QUADRENNIAL IN 2007 ...................................... 65
Lenka Šaldová
A NEW MUSEUM OF CZECH PUPPETS ....................................................................... 75
Jaroslav Blecha
TXEKIAR TXOTXONGILORA LEIHOA – VENTANA AL TÍTERE CHECO
– A WINDOW ONTO CZECH PUPPETRY ..................................................................... 79
KALEIDOSCOPE ............................................................................................................ 85
NOTEBOOK .................................................................................................................... 95
CZECH THEATRE 24
Issued by Theatre Institute Prague
Director / Pavla Petrová
Editor / Barbara Topolová
Assistant editors / Kamila Černá, Zbyněk Černík
Translation / Robin Cassling
Cover and graphical layout / Egon L. Tobiáš
Printed by / Tiskárna TOBOLA, Jinonická 329, Praha 5
July 2008
Editors’ e-mail: [email protected]
Subscription: Divadelní ústav, Celetná 17, 110 00 Praha 1, Czech Republic
fax: +420 224 811 452, e-mail: [email protected]
©2008 Divadelní ústav Praha
ISSN 0862-9380
½Franz Kafka, The Trial / Divadlo Komedie, Praha 2007 / Directed and set design by
Dušan David Pařízek / Costumes Kamila Polívková > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
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EDITORIAL
EDITORIAL
T
he contents of this year’s edition of Czech Theatre
includes a special section devoted to regional theatres,
three of which are profiled in more detail (authors Jana
Machalická, Jan Kerbr and Marta Ljubková), a text about the
most recent work of the director J. A. Pitínský (author Kamila
Černá), and a comprehensive look at the work of the Comedy
Theatre (Divadlo Komedie) in Prague, which in the last
several years has sharply defined the focus of its dramaturgy
and choice of productions (authors Jana Machalická and
Jana Patočková). Roman Vašek writes about traditional ballet
productions, and Marie Zdeňková takes stock of last year’s
international scenography exhibition, the Prague Quadrennial.
In the Kaleidoscope section you will find reviews of noteworthy
productions staged in Czech theatres last year, and the Notebook
section calls attention to important recent publications on Czech
theatre and presents information on the theatre award-winners
for 2007.
Current events in the theatre scene in the Czech Republic,
however, offer us different food for thought. Last year and
this year were seasons that for the first in a long time had an
abundance of new plays by playwrights from the older generation. In the winter of 2007 the Theatre on the Balustrade
(Divadlo na zábradlí) staged Milan Uhde’s Miracle in the
Black House (Zázrak v černém domě), in the autumn of 2007
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EDITORIAL
/3
Václav Havel, Leaving / Divadlo Archa, 2008 / Directed by David Radok / Set design Jaromír Vlček and David Radok / Costumes Zuzana Ježková
> Photo Viktor Kronbauer
the National Theatre (Národní divadlo) in Prague staged the
premiere of Pavel Kohout’s A Little Might Music (Malá hudba
moci), and just before this publication went to press, in May
2008, Archa Theatre (Divadlo Archa) put on the long-awaited
production of Václav Havel’s Leaving (Odcházení). However
distinctive the poetics and lives of each of these authors, they
all have something in common. All of them made their name
during the “golden sixties”. They were thus witnesses of and
had a hand in shaping the most important era in Czech theatre
and a decade later were among the initiators and first signatories
of Charter 77, the most significant and most influential anticommunist movement in Czechoslovakia in the 1970s, and
through their systematic cultural and political activities in
dissent they gradually broke down the seemingly indestructible
fortress of totalitarian power and its belief in itself as omniscient
and – according to one of its favourite mottos – “eternal”. There
will be a large article on the new works by these playwrights in
the next issue, but now, the dramatic curves of their lives and
the fates of their works give us an opportunity to reflect once
more on the relationship between art and the representatives
of power, an issue that has become relevant again in recent
months.
Prague theatres (specifically Theatre on Dlouhá Street /
Divadlo v Dlouhé, Theatre below Palmovka / Divadlo pod
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EDITORIAL
Palmovkou, City Theatres of Prague / Městská divadla pražská,
Studio Ypsilon / Divadelní studio Ypsilon and Švanda Theatre /
Švandovo divadlo) have been presented with the imperative
from City Hall to transform themselves from contributory
organisations – which regularly receive public funding, but are
subject to strict financial controls and return their revenue to
the state budget – into unspecified legal subjects, which will
receive funding through a grant system.
This is a fundamental change. From the start of the 18th
century, when cities began building their theatres, the backbone
of Central European theatre has been its permanent repertoire
system. Theatre and the way theatre is done have in the past
two centuries obviously undergone major changes, yet it is not
the attempt at transformation itself that has provoked so much
resistance in theatre and cultural circles but rather the fact that
there was no preparation and planning pursued in advance
of the change, and although it is to take effect by the end of
this year the rules and the direction of this transformation
are still unclear. The current grant system suffers from some
serious shortcomings, and those theatres that work within it
find themselves in a difficult situation (for example, this year
the grant process fell so far behind in its work that it left Archa
Theatre on the edge of collapse). The trial transformation
process that some Prague theatres were a party to four years ago
was never subjected to serious debate in a review process.
City Hall has moreover taken other incompetent steps. The
most criticised among them is the plan to tie subsidies to ticket
sales, a move that, in contradiction of all previous practices, the
city counsellor for culture agreed to under lobbying pressure
from commercial theatres, which means that public money
will actually be subsidising private commercial activities (the
appreciable decrease in funds available within the grant system
will result from subsidies for commercial theatres).
Theatres feel these steps as an attack on their work, the
continuity of which cannot be guaranteed through a system of
grants, not even multi-year grants. Petitions and demonstrations
have been organised. There is a prevailing and well-grounded
fear that this is just an attempt to shed responsibility and under
the banner of an expedient interpretation of democracy gradually
commercialise the Prague theatre scene and even the entire
cultural sector (some festivals, such as the international dance
festival Dance Prague / Tanec Praha, and a number of Prague
galleries are also in a similar situation). The situation is all the
more critical in that the steps taken in the capital have not gone
unnoticed by municipal counsellors in other Czech towns.
The acclaimed playwright, dissident, and, after 1989,
Minister of Culture Milan Uhde has expressed solidarity with
the Prague theatres threatened by this change, and he wrote an
open letter that was printed in April in the bimonthly Theatre
News (Divadelní noviny). He writes: “The forthcoming measures
planned by Prague City Hall for me constitute a threat that yet
again – and by no means for the first time – I will be deprived of
the opportunity to engage publicly as a playwright. I will fight
this threat with all the strength that I still have and with all my
experience of the past. That experience tells me that a theatre
that strives truthfully to portray the age it exists in will weather
through any kind of adversity and pressure, even censorship and
financial strictures, and that unlike administrators, who can only
argue about money, it is immortal. History will rightly forget these
administrators, but for us, who have only the limited perspective
of a single lifetime at our disposal, these administrators are the
dangerous descendents of the brutish King Ubu. We must not for
a moment yield to their devious visions.”
Perhaps we shall not yield, and perhaps the lifetime of
experience of this Czech playwright does not deceive!
Barbara Topolová
EDITORIAL
9.7.2008 17:10:50
COMEDY THEATRE
– THE LAST REFUGE
OF TRUE ART?
Jana Machalická
ÀBertolt Brecht, Baal / Pražské komorní divadlo, 1998 / Directed by Dušan David Pařízek
Set design Jan Štěpánek / Costumes Lenka Rašková > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
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COMEDY THEATRE – THE LAST REFUGE OF TRUE ART?
½Werner Schwab, The Presidents / Pražské komorní divadlo, 1998
Directed by Dušan David Pařízek / Set design and costumes Jan Štěpánek
T
he very distinctive character that Comedy Theatre
(Divadlo Komedie) possesses today originated a decade
ago, in 1998, when Dušan David Pařízek, freshly
graduated from the directing programme at the Theatre Faculty
of the Academy of Performing Arts in Prague (DAMU), founded
the independent company of the Prague Chamber Theatre
(Pražské komorní divadlo). While the young director was
actually born in Moravia, when he was one year old his parents
emigrated with him to Austria and then Germany. In 1994, when
Pařízek completed studies in drama and comparative literature
at Ludwig Maximilian University in Munich, he returned
to the Czech Republic. He was led into theatre by his family
background and – as he has mentioned repeatedly in interviews
– his admiration for the work of the director Jan Grossman. In
Prague he felt a need to enhance his education and decided to
continue his studies in the field of direction. While a student
at DAMU in 1997 he and three of his fellow students put on
the existential “faeces play” by the Austrian playwright Werner
Schwab The Presidents (Die Präsidentinnen). The production
was a great success, especially among younger audiences: it
provided a platform for three outstanding performances from
three unknown women actors and with the requisite amount of
invention and vigour the director introduced the Czech public to
an author they were not yet familiar with.
The Presidents then de facto represented the first performance
of the company founded one year later – the choice of playwright
and the type of drama clearly presaged the direction in which
the emerging company would be headed. A tight group of
colleagues was already taking shape even then; from the
start, for example, Pařízek put to work the young and talented
scenographer Jan Štěpánek. The Prague Chamber Company
played at various theatre venues – Theatre on the Balustrade
(Divadlo Na zábradlí), the Drama Club (Činoherní klub), Ponec
Theatre (Divadlo Ponec) – and from the start it was oriented
almost exclusively towards German-language drama.
Pařízek and his new company proceeded to put on
performances of Brecht’s Baal (premiere at Dejvice Theatre /
Dejvické divadlo, in September 1998) and what was originally
a radio play by Karel Steigerwald Fatherland (Otčina, premiere
at the Drama Club in May 1999). He worked with the 1918
version of Baal but was unable to extract a strong reading of the
play, and even the character contours of the main protagonist,
as portrayed by Vasil Fridrich, seemed blurred. The Brechtian
songs by Jiří Šlupka Svěrák and the wonderfully versatile
Mother, played by Marie Málková, were nice, but otherwise
there was nothing that particularly stood out in the production.
The same was true of Fatherland. Tellingly subtitled “A Tavern
Burlesque about the Mutual Love between the Czechs and the
Germans”, the production was annoyingly schematic, the figures
remained flat, and they spoke in proclamations. Nevertheless,
in 1999 they had a remarkable success: People Annihilation or
My Liver is Senseless (Volksvernichtung oder meine Leber ist
sinnlos, premiere at the Comedy Theatre in January) by Werner
Schwab. After the previous, problematic productions it suddenly
became apparent that here was a director with a style of poetics
unlike that of his peers, headstrong and full of youthful vigour,
but also determined to blaze his own trail. This play, also by
Schwab, remained in the repertoire of the Comedy Theatre for
nine years, and it is again a macabre, paranoid, perverse and
hectically funny play. The plot is played out in three households
within a single tenement building, each household offering its
own version of a disgusting existence. Štěpánek’s set designs
were shown off here in an excellent light and they meticulously
differentiated between dwellings: the little flat of Mrs. Wurm
and her son Herman, a cripple with a club foot, was a plate-lined
pigsty; the Kovacic family was able to boast an interior covered
in wallpaper patterned with hideous red roses; and the infernal,
blood-red colour of Mrs. Growlfire’s place evoked wild notions.
The characters in Schwab’s play speak a kind of meta-language,
which Tomáš Kafka translated with exceptional ingenuity. He
9.7.2008 17:14:21
came up with absurd collocations, where elegant and grand
expressions were spliced with coarse words and vulgarities,
and vice versa. Despite the pataphysics and twistedness of
this enclosed micro-world, Pařízek was able to create his own
poetic style. He took the bizarreness and the “enthrallment”
with revulsion from Schwab, without getting bogged down in
superficial arresting details. He deliberately avoided going into
concrete details and also left the boundary between reality and
what may be a dream pleasingly unclear, though in doing so
by the end he may have worn down the edge more than was
necessary. The scene in which Mrs. Growlfire, played by Dana
Kolářová, kills her tenants resembled a Surrealistic farce that
the tone of the direction then immediately undermined. The trio
of Karel Roden, Marie Málková, and Dana Kolářová excelled in
the production, but the other actors’ performances were also
very noteworthy. In the very opening the production introduces
Herman Wurm (Karel Roden) as a mad painter, who, tied to
a rope, creates his works with the kind of feverish passion that is
worthy of a genuine conceptualist. He is permanently frustrated
by his mother, who, as portrayed by Marie Málková, comes
across as a hysterical crone, with slicked back, pinned up hair.
Any effort he made to revolt was crushed from the start by sullen
contortions of the mother’s mouth and a look that shot daggers
at him. Karel Roden gave a masterly performance as Herman,
portraying him as a pitiable monster but also as a fiercely
mischievous character constantly vibrating with twitches and
gesticulations. He compensates the sense of frustration his
mother evokes in him by retreating within a massive mock-up
¿Werner Schwab, The Presidents / Pražské komorní divadlo, 1998
Directed by Dušan David Pařízek / Set design and costumes Jan Štěpánek
dummy, mute and all-embracing. Daniela Kolářová played Mrs.
Growlfire, the tenement owner, as a lethal figure, as though
she were a creature from another planet. The Kovacic family
is the embodiment of dim-wittedness — a simpleton father of
the brawny variety (Martin Zahálka), and a “silly goose” kind
of mother who loves vulgar jokes, played by Lucie Juřičková
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8/
ÀBertolt Brecht, Baal / Pražské komorní divadlo, 1998 / Directed by
Dušan David Pařízek / Set design Jan Štěpánek / Costumes Lenka Rašková
in an interpretation that balanced on the fine edge between
embarrassment and stupidity.
By the end of 2001 the Prague Chamber Theatre already
had a relatively distinctive repertoire – Schiller‘s The Robbers
(Die Räuber) was added – and cooperation began also with
the previously mostly Brno-based director David Jařab, who
prepared a performance of Klíma’s Glorious Nemesis (Slavná
Nemesis, premiere at the Theatre on Celetná Street / Divadlo
v Celetné, in November 2000). A variation on The Robbers titled
The Bandits (premiere at Ponec Theatre in December 2001)
claimed to be modelled on Schiller’s play, but it did not have
much in common with it, all that remained of the original being
just a few dialogues and the gang of criminals headed by Karl
Moor. Schiller’s tale of betrayal and revenge was transformed in
this heavily updated post-modern collage to take on the theme
of extremism in contemporary society, whose life is shaped by
the media, aggression and instinct. Here Pařízek even used
nudity, but it ended up seeming like an unnecessary imitation of
German theatre. Despite these criticisms, The Bandits was full
of energy, bite, and originality.
Dušan D. Pařízek became increasingly aware of how
essential it is to have a home venue, and therefore he applied
for the “vacated” Comedy Theatre. Michal Dočekal, the artistic
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/9
director there, had left to run the drama division of the National
Theatre (Národní divadlo), and City Hall issued a call for tender
soliciting applications for a company to permanently occupy the
theatre. According to the tender conditions, the new company
was to operate as a transformed contributory organisation, and
its functioning was to be secured by means of a four-year grant.
Pařízek and his company clearly won the tender bid, but protests
were raised by unsuccessful candidates from the ranks of former
members of the Comedy Theatre, headed by the actor Martin
Učík. However, the real blame lay with the lack of transparency
in the methods used by Prague City Hall, because the winning
project really was interesting, conceptual, thematically
distinctive and unrivalled in the Prague theatre scene. Pařízek
wanted to introduce German-language theatre and original work
and from the start he promoted this sophisticated programme
even at the cost of error – and in the age of chasing viewers that
was and is an underlying asset.
In 2002, when the Prague Chamber Theatre moved into
the Comedy Theatre, everything looked very promising, but
over the next five years the theatre’s progress was not at all
straightforward, and Pařízek did not always devote his full
attention to his theatre. He was often in Germany directing, and
the first two years in particular turned out to be a very difficult
period, even though the company’s dramaturgy continued to
pursue its avowed focus, which is centred mainly on Central
European drama from the first half of the 20th century to the
present. Among the authors whose work Comedy Theatre
regularly performs are Ladislav Klíma, Franz Kafka, Bertolt
Brecht, Thomas Bernhard, Werner Schwab, Georg Tabori,
and Elfriede Jelinek. But it also stages original works, such
as the plays of Egon Tobiáš, and maintains an interest in new
forms, experimenting with theatre and film as genres, which is
reflected both in dramatic form and in efforts to adapt various
works of film for the stage (for example, The Crucified Woman /
Ukřižovaná, based on a 1921 film; or Schweik / Švejk, a stage
remake of the 1926 silent Czech film by Karel Lamač). Dušan
D. Pařízek further expanded the ring of like-minded artists, and
in addition to David Jařab, Jan Nebeský also regularly prepares
productions at Comedy Theatre, and other directors include, for
example, Arnošt Goldflam, Natálie Deáková, Tomáš Svoboda
and even Katarina Schmitt, a young graduate from the directing
programme at Prague DAMU. Pařízek has also established
close cooperation with the Drama Studio (Činoherní studio) in
Ústí nad Labem. Although in the strict sense of the word the
company at Comedy Theatre is not a permanent company, it
draws on a solid circle of actors, which includes, for example,
Karel Roden, Vanda Hybnerová, Saša Rašilov, Ivana Uhlířová,
Alois Švehlík, Roman Zach, Martin Finger, Gabriela Míčová,
Ivana Uhlířová, Daniela Kolářová, and Jana Krausová. This
stable base of performers is also evidence of how deeply the
repertoire system is embedded in Czech theatre: Although the
Comedy Theatre hires its actors to work on fixed-term contracts,
it basically operates as a permanent company and enables
¿¾Werner Schwab, People Annihilation or My Liver is Senseless
Divadlo Komedie, Praha 1999 / Directed by Dušan David Pařízek / Set
design Jan Štěpánek / Costumes Lenka Rašková > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
9.7.2008 17:14:23
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both actors and directors to work uninterruptedly and with
a particular vision in mind.
The early days of the new theatre were not as rosy as they
were expected to be. Brecht’s The Resistible Rise of Arturo Ui
(Der aufhaltsame Aufstieg des Arturo Ui, premiere in December
2002), which had not been performed in the Czech Republic for
many years, was staged by David Jařab in a kind of multimedia
variation, which unfortunately lost its thematic focus. Even
a production of Kafka’s Metamorphosis (Die Werwandlung,
premiere in February 2003), based on a script by Arnošt
Goldflam, who also directed the production, failed to engage
¿Friedrich Schiller, The Bandits / Pražské komorní divadlo, 2001
Directed by Dušan David Pařízek / Set design Jan Štěpánek
Costumes Andrea Králová > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
¾George Tabori, Cannibals / Divadlo Komedie, Praha 2003
Directed by Jan Nebeský / Set design Jan Štěpánek / Costumes Jana Preková
> Photo Bohdan Holomíček
the viewer. The experiment carried out by the group Watch
over Parnassus (Střežený Parnass) and Zdeněk Plachý's in The
Crucified Woman (Ukřižovaná, premiere in June 2003), could
have been a complementary addition to the theatre’s repertoire,
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/11
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but in the particular context it fell flat as yet another sign of
fecklessness. At the end of the first season the Comedy Theatre
at best seemed like an unfocused theatre spinning off the cuff
one premiere after the other. The great variety of activities and
projects actually worked against the theatre, which gave off the
impression of being an ensemble scattered in various directions
without any clearly formulated style. During the first season
Pařízek did not direct a single production, which was a risky
gambit. The only real success was Tabori’s The Cannibals
(Kanibalové, premiere in April 2003) directed by Jan Nebeský,
but that play was actually developed as a co-production with
the Drama Studio (Činoherní studio) in Ústí nad Labem. Given
the troubled reputation that the Comedy Theatre unfortunately
acquired, and the corresponding extremely low attendance
levels, the play initially escaped the attention of critics, but it
eventually did win an Alfréd Radok Award (Production of the
Year 2003). The theatre’s inconsistencies lasted into the next
season, and the situation only gradually began to change when,
after being criticised in the press, Pařízek finally started to devote
himself intensively to the theatre that he had so persuasively
striven to create.
Despite the problems mentioned above, from the start
there was something agreeable about this heartfelt effort to
consistently present plays that were almost unplayable or at least
targeted a limited circle of viewers. There were numerous such
works, among which mention can be made of Tobiáš‘s Solingen
— Merciful Blow (Solingen, rána z milosti, premiere in March
2004), Schwab’s Anticlimax (premiere in September 2003),
or another play by Egon Tobiáš, The Investigation Continues
(Vyšetřování pokračuje, premiere in June 2006), a wacky
detective story featuring revived corpses and a blind detective.
In Anticlimax, the emotions that this decadent and
blasphemous spectacle evokes were matched by the dispassionate approach of Pařízek’s direction, which manifested
how strongly Schwab longed to spit in the face of his audience
and how he revelled in his aversion to society. Despite some
ÀWerner Schwab, Antiklimax / Divadlo Komedie, Praha 2003 / Directed by Dušan David Pařízek / Set design and costumes Erlend Hella Matre
> Photo Bauer Power
9.7.2008 17:14:25
minor repulsive details (the doctor‘s examination of Mariedl
seems more like a post mortem, characters smacking their
mouths over some disgusting looking pieces of salami, and, at
the end, the heroine is coated in lard), a naturalism cuts through
the production mainly with the use of unusual language,
in unbelievable neologistic combinations of vulgarities and
grandly stylised phrases. Schwab is not for everyone. His work
has a nauseating effect, and that sense of disgust arises even
without the buckets of blood and entrails sitting on stage, as
they were in the production of The Presidents in Kammerspiele.
The question is whether Anticlimax is a whole dramatic work.
Schwab created it in a writing frenzy not long before his death,
and even if it is not an incomplete text, it remains insistent
testimony to a being who has mentally broken down. This
is probably why, despite the sensitive and formally perfect
direction, a dead zone set in between the stage and the public.
Schwab’s premise that the world is a horrible place to live in is
hysterically overexposed in his final play to the point of self-
/13
serving disgust.
In Tobiáš’s Solingen the unlimited creative freedom and
the total ignorance of the viewer had a stunning effect. In
conformity with the author’s intentions Jan Nebeský put his own
imagination on a pedestal and for him everything else ceased
to exist. There is no question that there should be a theatre in
Prague that offers this kind of artistic release, but it is important
not to overdo things. The last venture of this kind at the Comedy
Theatre was undertaken by Katarina Schmitt in Klaus Händl’s
A Darkly Alluring World (Dunkel Lockende Welte, premiere
in October 2007), which many viewers certainly rightly saw
as an indecipherable puzzle. This intimate drama, with three
characters and what seems almost to be a criminal plot, presents
viewers with an elusive and in places almost dreamlike reality,
accompanied by even more bizarre and deliberately obfuscated
relationships. The dramatic trio is made up of two women
– a mother and a daughter. The third character is the owner
of a flat that both women are attached to by some unspoken
ÀWerner Schwab, Antiklimax / Divadlo Komedie, Praha 2003 / Directed by Dušan David Pařízek / Set design and costumes Erlend Hella Matre
> Photo Bauer Power
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14/
bond. The picture of what is going on in the mind of this young
playwright is in its own way depressing and any attempt to get
through to the essence of what he wants to say seems fruitless.
Perhaps the error is on the part of the viewer, who is not from
the same generation as the author and does not experience the
contradictions of today’s world in the same way as he does. Klaus’s
work here is somewhat lacking in the capacity to offer a timeless,
generalised perspective. It is a purely subjective expression of
feelings, but it may be that these feelings are shared by parts
of the population, judging at least from the enthusiasm with
which Katarina Schmitt seized on the material. Her production
reveals that she has a good notion of how squarely to construct
the shape of a work. With regard to the set, she opted for almost
the same approach as that employed in the performance at
the Munich Kammerspiele: on one side the scene was closed
in by sliding panels with a mirror reflecting a portion of the
audience. Otherwise, though, she emphasised the intimate
tone of the work and placed the actors and the viewers within
an integrated performance space. The director let situations
unfold in a cultivated manner, maintained a clean and almost
minimalistic style, and relied especially on the performances
of the two actresses, the young and animalistic Ivana Uhlířová
and the experienced and precise Daniela Kolářová. Both carried
their own impenetrable secrets, injecting special meanings
into their lines, surprising and entertaining the audiences with
the diction and facial expressions. Unfortunately, their male
counterpart, Marian Roden, was gravely unremarkable. Perhaps
the production was about approaching death, about squeezing
out anything we prefer not to know about, prefer not to embrace.
Or simply someone killed someone else. And so we have no
choice but to paraphrase Alice in Wonderland and say: It was
nice, though a bit unclear.
While Pařízek cultivates a specialised dramaturgical
programme he still knows how to increase the Comedy Theatre’s
appeal to audiences. In this regard, early on he played the right
card of making Karel Roden the star of his several productions,
and this move was naturally a success. Their cooperation first
actually began during work on Thomas Bernhard’s Old Masters:
ÀThomas Bernhard, Old Masters / Divadlo Komedie, 2004 / Directed by Dušan David Pařízek / Set design and costumes Jan Štěpánek > Photo Bauer Power
9.7.2008 17:14:25
/15
¿¾Elfriede Jelinek, Clara S. / Divadlo Komedie, Praha, 2004
Directed by David Jařab / Set design David Jařab
Costumes Kamila Polívková > Photo Bauer Power
A Comedy (Alte Meister: Komödie, premiere in June 2004),
but the production suffered from a particular problem at the
Comedy Theatre that plagues Pařízek sometimes even today —
the obviously slapdash manner in which it was put together. It is
not easy to dramatise this novel of Berhard’s: the author's long
litanies and fiendishly sarcastic commentary form a compact
mass that offers to reprieve to the reader’s eye, but nonetheless
quickly captures the reader’s fascination so that their gaze
remains transfixed on the page. It is difficult to create dialogues
out of Bernhard’s “monolith” and invest them with dramatic
energy, but for much of that it is possible to draw on the creativity
of the actors. The adaptors tried to reproduce the text’s firm
structure with climactic moments, tension, and a sense of calm
approaching resignation, but capturing the book’s divaricating
theme and getting it to come across convincingly was equally
difficult. They did not always succeed in finding and extracting
the most essential aspects in the original text’s many layers, but
Karel Roden successfully fulfilled the image of an intolerably
garrulous Bernhardian eccentric, spewing fire and brimstone
on everything he had ever encountered in life. He seized the
9.7.2008 17:14:26
16/
text with a driving energy and threw
himself into the role. He ascended
smoothly through his character’s
outbursts to work his way up to a point
where he went completely berserk.
Karel’s brother Marián predictably only
seconded him in his role, but he had
some interesting moments. There was,
however, a problem in the performance,
resulting from the open emptiness
of the stage, which altered the hall’s
acoustics, and both actors had trouble
dealing with this. Incidentally, this
problem was also connected with the
above-mentioned sloppiness and the
hasty preparation of the production.
The partial success of Old Masters
was finally followed by a total success
with another of Bernhard’s works, The
Goal Attained (Am Ziel). While this
may not be Bernhard’s best play, it
possesses all the attributes typical of
this Austrian playwright’s work, and
there is even a kind of sinister quality to
its bleakness. Arnošt Goldflam tried to
9.7.2008 17:14:26
½Werner Schwab, Overweight, Unimportant: Formless / Divadlo
Komedie, Praha 2008 / Directed by Dušan David Pařízek / Set design
Dušan David Pařízek / Costumes Kamila Polívková > Photo Kamila Polívková
make the text as theatrical as possible, but he only half-succeeded
in doing so. But the production was given a substantial boost
by Daniela Kolářová’s outstanding performance in the role of
the Mother. Her endless monologue, comprised of memories,
verbal attacks, and rants, was both fascinating and appalling at
the same time, while the Daughter, played by Vanda Hybnerová,
sulked defiantly in icy silence and resignation, wearing an
insubordinate, jeering expression.
The production of The Goal Attained (premiere in October
2004) seemed to mark a starting point for the Comedy Theatre.
It was at this point that the theatre seemed definitively to take
off and set out along a deliberate path in systematic pursuit of its
purported dramaturgical programme. For example, it put on work
by the fresh Nobel Laureate Elfriede Jelinek, and, while neither
of the two productions it prepared was especially successful, the
attempt to work with this difficult material warrants praise. The
first piece selected was an older text on a feminist theme, Clara
S. (premiere in December 2004) from 1981. This production
was not the first time this controversial author was introduced
to Czech audiences. That occasion came with slightly earlier
staging of Illness or Modern Women. Like a Play (Krankheit oder
Moderne Frauen. Wie ein Stück) at the Drama Studio (Činoherní
studio) in Ústí nad Labem. Jelinek’s work obviously requires
a special directorial approach and often resists being handled in
this way. In his effort to make the text more theatrical, a text that
to some extent contains characters that evolve at a psychological
level, David Jařab ended up creating heavy-handedly assembled
images, in which, on the one hand, he tenaciously held onto
certain specific characteristics and peripeteia, and on the
other hand, produced an arrestingly grotesque and surreal
atmosphere. In Jařab’s production, Jelinek’s lamentations,
reflections, similes, outbursts, and poetic phrases stood out
like isolated quotations. While their effect was entertaining,
the chosen stage format deflated their ability to converge as an
urgent metaphor on the state of society. This was despite the fact
that Jařab had at his disposal an excellent performer in the title
role. Vanda Hybnerová as Clara S. alone showed the ability to
discriminately interpret the author’s irony and simultaneously
express the emotional turbulence of a woman forced to suppress
her own abilities.
/17
The Comedy Theatre was not very successful even with
its next try with a play by Jelinek. A Sport Play (Sportstück,
premiere in April 2006) was directed by a trio of directors,
Dušan D. Pařízek, Jan Nebeský and David Jařab, which, given
the differences in their styles, in itself was enough to make one
wonder. The directors tried in places to successfully combine
elements of the grotesque and parody to produce a consistent
statement, but in the framework of a clumsy patchwork of
fragments that effort is challenged. In the end what rang most
persuasively was the theme that it is men who are responsible
for violence and war, and women who try to prevent them from
acting in such ways. Connected with this, too, was that the
male section of the cast worked as a unit and involved more of
a collective performance, while the women have roles founded
on very individual personalised performances. Nevertheless,
the production at times came across as shoddy, and in a way
even superficial, simplifying the complex layers of meaning in
the play.
Over the past four years the Comedy Theatre has been home to
a number of strong acting performances, both from experienced
actors, rediscovering themselves with new tasks that allow
them to “blossom”, and from talented young artists that the
wider public is often less familiar with. Alongside occasional
guest appearances from Daniela Kolářová, other actors who
have established themselves include Vanda Hybnerová and
Ivana Uhlířová, while more recently Martin Finger and Gabriela
Míčová have managed to capture audiences’ attention. In
addition to her work in the productions mentioned above,
Hybnerová also gave a fantastic performance in Fassbinder’s
The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (Die Bitteren Tränen der Petra
von Kant, premiere in September 2005), to which David Jařab
applied a cool, non-theatrical approach. Recently Jan Kačer
and Milan Stehlík put on exceptionally creative performances
in an otherwise stylistically uneven and, in terms of quality,
dysfunctional production of Jandl’s Humanists (premiere in
January 2007) directed by Jan Nebeský. Kačer’s rendering of the
character described as First Male dazzled viewers with his flying
gestures and a diction thundering with pathos, self-importance
and vainglory. He was drawn into a duel with his adversary,
who Milan Stehlík played as a hectic and combatively shortfused character, though also capable of being very circumspect.
These two ridiculous heroes got up to all kinds of tricks in their
constant clowning: one led the other on a string, they cried on
one another’s shoulders, they sang the national anthem. The
COMEDY THEATRE
– THE LAST REFUGE
OF TRUE ART?
9.7.2008 17:14:26
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two actors mediated the characters’ pompous stupidity and
mental vacuity with such exceptional authenticity and their
performances divulged a sense of almost elemental pleasure
drawn from the idiocy of the characters. These were robust and
juicy pieces of acting, consciously and insistently interpreting
the theme of Jandl’s short play.
Martin Finger and Gabriela Míčová both shone in Bernhard’s
The World-Fixer (Der Weltverbesserer, premiere in November
2006), also directed by Dušan D. Pařízek (Finger won the Alfréd
Radok Award for his performance in this role), where they
enacted the parts of a sick old man and his female companion,
an odd couple united by an unusual bond. Pařízek made an
interesting innovation: making the couple considerably younger
gave them an air of sensuality and added an element of erotic
tension. All this was set in contrast with the basic situation they
are in: The World-Fixer has gradually returned to a state of nonexistence and despite his haughtiness he is made dependent
on those around him. The production demonstrated this using
nudity. Finger’s World-Fixer entered on stage naked, cowered
defencelessly on the sofa, and the woman washed him, dressed
him, and brought him his injections, while he talked and
talked, snarled, raged, accused, criticised, issued commands,
grumbled over ancient slightings in Trier, and went on and
on about his Tractate on fixing the world, the only fruit of his
entire academic career. His time so far has been measured out
by alarm clocks strangely clustered all around him. In recent
years Pařízek has taken a shine to dramatic minimalism – in
many ways the prevailing style of the Comedy Theatre on the
whole – but unlike Old Masters, here he handled it properly
and managed to construct a tightly knit format. One agreeable
change was that this time he did not shut out humour and
irony. The arrival of the delegation made up of dean, professor,
rector and mayor, who have come to award the World-Fixer an
honorary doctorate, was an unbelievable farce of awkwardness
– a whirling tap-dance of civilities, pretence, forced smiles, and
efforts to maintain decorum.
With regard to Pařízek’s inclinations towards minimalism,
a prime example of such tendencies was the dramatisation
of Musil’s novel The Confusions of Young Törless (Die
Werwirrungen des Zöglings Törless, premiere in November
2005) in a Czech-German co-production. It was performed at
the Salzburg Festival, and in the Czech Republic it received
strong praise from critics. It certainly could not be accused
of not having tried to penetrate Musil’s complicated style
of expression and communicate it using stage devices. The
creators were aware of the difficulties involved in their stage
adaptation and therefore they opted for a static quality, or more
a kind of expressive minimalism and artistic experimentation
as their main stylistic element. It is possible that the concept
also took a cue from the set designer Olaf Altmann, who was
involved, for example, in the purely minimalistic production of
Schiller’s Love and Intrigue, performed in Prague at the Festival
of German-language Theatre in 2003 (where light effects
were also often employed with meaningful intent). But this
approach introduced the element of theatricality from without,
so ultimately the result was more one of demonstrative effects
than actually the creation of an internally structured theatrical
form. Its overriding minimalism and formal coolness meant the
production too often resembled a peculiar stage reading. The
design centred on a white dummy – a pictogram used for the
purpose of escape. During the ninety-minute performance the
dummy moved almost imperceptibly from the right side of the
stage following a cut-out arrow towards the white door left ajar
in the smooth green wall. While this is an eloquent symbol of
the attempt to escape from a world of adversity and violence,
the idea is not entirely original. The light effects and the cruel
game with the epidiascope, which changed into an instrument of
torture and a prison for the persecuted, proved to be more original.
Pařízek tried here to find an adequate method to bring out the
hero’s mental trauma, his inner self-reflection and doubts. The
performance had aspired to be a kind of dramatic essay, but it was
only partly digestible as such, because it was too arty and focused
on its form. It was at its most compelling whenever it used simple
metaphors to try to express the essence of violence and explored
the circumstances surrounding its source.
This past season has thus far been an enormous success for
the Comedy Theatre. It opened with Pařízek’s staging of Kafka’s
The Trial (Proces, premiere in September 2007), which was
created for the international Projektion Europa in Hamburg.
This dramatisation was completely different from other theatre
adaptations of this work and it produced an innovative shift. The
theme of absurdity and the mechanism that destroys man was
suppressed, and the creators instead delved into the inner world
of the hero, which proved to be a very timely emphasis, one
moreover not at odds with the author and the intent of his work.
The stage design comprised two slanting walls, within which
Josef K. was enclosed – that space served as the interrogation
room and Josef K.’s room. Quotations from Kafka’s works were
COMEDY THEATRE
– THE LAST REFUGE
OF TRUE ART?
9.7.2008 17:14:26
/19
¿Franz Kafka, The Trial / Divadlo Komedie, Praha 2007 / Directed and set design by Dušan David Pařízek / Costumes Kamila Polívková
projected onto the walls. Otherwise the production more or less
left out any other effects. As Josef K., Martin Finger conceived
his description of his arrest, interrogation and trial like
a theatrically escalating scene, with the Prosecutor responding
to his display with applause. Josef K. dwells in a bizarre inner
world, and he even succumbs to paranoia, but above all he is
trying to understand himself and then understand the world
that surrounds him. Pařízek let the actor wander about against
a background of shots filmed on a street-surveillance camera
and to the sounds of noisy electronic music, but otherwise he
adhered to a style of strict minimalism, which was well matched
with the well-considered sequencing of associations attesting
to the difficulty of the task of maintaining one’s identity – as
though someone were always toying with us and plunging us
into a perverse process where, like guinea pigs, we are subjected
to all kinds of tests and our reactions are constantly watched.
The performance of another piece by the Comedy Theatre’s
signature playwright, Werner Schwab, was also a success.
With the production of Overweight, Unimportant: Formless
(Übergewicht, unwichtig: Unform, premiere in January 2008)
9.7.2008 17:14:26
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Pařízek brought the notional trilogy of Schwab’s work to a close.
It is of significance to both the play and Pařízek’s interpretation
that Schwab died suddenly and in unclear circumstances
on the last day of the year 1993 at the age of 35. The action
of this oddly titled play also takes place at some New Year’s
celebration, almost as though the author anticipated his own
end. Pařízek describes the play as a European “Last Supper”,
which Schwab set “in a place of refreshments — something
between a roadside inn, a stillhouse, and a village pub”. For
the purpose of this production the setting was recreated as
a wallpapered and soiled-looking room in a tavern, much more
like something from the Bohemian countryside than an Alpine
landscape. And an infernal red light nicely illuminated the
space, where a high-spirited crowd has gathered, ready to let
loose at any time. Schwab only rarely ever offers any kind of
plot in the real sense of the word, and that applies here, too,
but Pařízek managed to create a string of strikingly imaginative
scenes that are linked by the theme of emptiness in life and the
inability to communicate with others. The production does not
evolve along a single line but offers a manifold view of stupidity,
primitivism, snobbery, and the pack mentality. Pařízek applied
a substantial dose of imagination and originality to dramatising
Schwab’s eccentric language. He built new situations out of the
playwright’s basic “building material” and added irresistible
logic and bizarre humour to the writer’s image of a depraved
world. He created new and amusing relationships between the
characters, which he moulded into types representing for the
most part the different buck-passing attitudes in life. The pub
turned into an arena of life, where everyone aired the details
of their mental state, looked for, or more accurately, tried to
snatch a place for themselves, and to stifle or even calmly get
rid of others – whatever works best at the time. Everything is at
the same time permeated with a sense of emptiness and inertia.
Seven of Schwab’s variously outfitted characters and “one nice
couple” come to life in distinctively elaborated characteristics
and stylisations. For example, the high-point of the first act is
a several-minute yell – the song of one of the characters (Martin
Finger). The slightly drunk members of staff were either
sleeping behind a table or staring vacuously. The nice couple
(Jiří Černý and Stanislav Majer), visibly segregated from the
crowd, were raped, hacked to bits, and devoured, which was
portrayed very subtly, but accompanied by disgusting olfactory
experiences.
A year and a half ago marked the end of the theatre’s first
four-year grant period, and though it spent at least two years
trying to find its own style, in 2006 the management applied
for (and received) another four-year grant, by that time having
developed into a theatre with a very clear profile presenting
plays that comment on the state of contemporary society.
While that can often be depressing or even chilling, it is almost
always provocative. For that matter, the theatre always reflects
what society comes out with. Pařízek makes a spirited effort
to seek out authors in German-speaking regions, and a feature
shared by works he selects is their harshly open treatment of
the themes they address. The Comedy Theatre has many times
been the first in the Czech Republic to perform some plays by
renowned authors (Jelinek, Schwab). It consistently insists
on working with hard-to-palate texts and original projects.
These experiments are a firm component of the theatre’s
dramaturgical programme, which is aimed at getting viewers
to think contextually and ask questions. Unfortunately, today
this kind of approach is rare and in a way it harks back to the
era of clear-cut thematic dramaturgy in Czech theatre that
was typical of the second half of the 1980s. After the theatre’s
initial difficulties with attendance rates, interest in the Comedy
Theatre’s production has become steady and it is a theatre
frequented by a young public, often students. In the past three
years the Comedy Theatre has also repeatedly found itself
nominated among theatre critics’ top picks of the year (Alfréd
Radok Award) and a number of awards have made their way to
the theatre (for example, best performance awards for Daniela
Kolářová and Martin Finger). The theatre currently ranks as one
of the most interesting stages in Prague, though it is definitely
not for every kind of theatregoer – it has absolutely no qualms
about using naturalism on stage and it is willing to do so without
any regard for the audience’s sensitivities.
9.7.2008 17:14:27
A NEW
TRIAL
Jana Patočková
¿Franz Kafka, The Trial / Divadlo Komedie, Praha 2007 / Directed and set design
by Dušan David Pařízek / Costumes Kamila Polívková > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
021-026_Proces_5k.indd 21
9.7.2008 17:12:17
22/
O
A NEW TRIAL
n a bare stage, walled in by wooden panelling, two rightangled panels enclose the performance space. A man, in
his thirties, dressed in a black suit and a shirt, stands
within this constrictive emptiness as though driven into a corner.
He occasionally glances out into the public, but seems more to
be looking inside himself, his face troubled by something he
cannot communicate. He makes as though to say something,
but his mouth remains silent as he voicelessly opens his lips
and then closes them again. An enlarged image of his face is
projected onto the surface of the panels, where it is overlaid
with a rapid sequence of powerful images. Most of the images
are traffic signs, symbols of the everyday, of the omnipresence
of commands and interdictions, guideposts marking the
communication routes of our age, subway escalators and
platforms, densely packed with an anonymous crowd. We are
pelted with images and sounds, while the quiet man tries in
vain to speak. This opening sequence, and the song “Stand by
Me”, played repeatedly later on, the most striking of the features
that the “Prague” story of Josef K. to modern-day Prague.
This is not the first generation to stage The Trial in such
a way that not only is its lasting vitality made obvious but also
and especially the adaptation is clearly indicative of the period
in which it has emerged. The novel opens with an “awakening”:
on the day of his thirtieth birthday Josef K. awakes to realise that
he has been arrested, “imprisoned”, and locked into a process
that he does not understand, but which turns his entire
existence upside down. How, to what, and to what end does
Josef K. awaken in Dušan D. Pařízek’s authorial production of
The Trial?
Josef K. is at the centre of the trial, but rather than the object
he appears to be the only subject and the only “mover” in the
trial. Martin Finger gives a deeply composed performance of
Josef K. as a highly insecure introvert; his K. is not someone who
has, or at least to begin with pretends to have, the justified selfconfidence of his literary prototype – a professionally competent
and socially well-stationed bureaucrat. This is a result of the
9.7.2008 17:12:18
A NEW TRIAL
/23
½¿Franz Kafka, The Trial / Divadlo Komedie, Praha 2007 / Directed and
set design by Dušan David Pařízek / Costumes Kamila Polívková
A NEW
TRIAL
9.7.2008 17:12:20
24/
A NEW TRIAL
¿¾Franz Kafka, The Trial / Divadlo Komedie, Praha 2007 / Directed and
set design by Dušan David Pařízek / Costumes Kamila Polívková
A NEW
TRIAL
9.7.2008 17:12:20
A NEW TRIAL
perspective of the production, where Josef K. is the narrator:
he is trying to tell a story that he does not understand. Finger
expresses the tension within his character mainly through his
restrained and sensitive facial expression. K. wants to escape
the world, and he now and then hides his face from it, but in the
end he ventures into a strange contest in which everything is at
stake, aware of its fatality, of the impenetrability of what he is
up against. Sometimes he succumbs to an aggressive mood, but
he immediately repents; other times he slumps into apathy.
The other characters in the trial are reduced to a sextet. The
Guards, František and Vilém (Stanislav Majer, Ivan Acher), the
Examining Judge (Jiří Černý), the Lawyer (Martin Pechlát),
Block (Hynek Chmelař) and Leni/Miss Bürstner (Gabriela
Míčová) are all peers of Josef K. They are clearly from the same
world as K., similar in age and appearance, dressed in sober,
modern, dark-grey suits. But K. also gives shape to their feelings
of guilt, complexes, suppressed wishes and inclinations. These
spectres, with blood-red lips in common, are the embodiments
/25
of aggressive expressions of fear, an anxious state of guilt, and
erotic dreams linked to the fear of relationship fulfilment. The
two-in-one female character is played by G. Míčová as a being
who is on the surface obliging and assuring but is unpredictable
and cunning, and in a flash can turn from a caring mother-lover
figure into a vampire.
Several key scenes in the novel are read existentially, as an
image of a trial that Josef K. is in with the world and primarily
himself. K. defends his innocence, but from the start feels,
presents himself, and behaves like a guilty man. And he who
feels guilty, evidently is; he is displaced, “outside” the world
hurtling down on him and around him. The struggle, situated
entirely within K.’s inner world, reaches its only possible and
necessary end very quickly. (Although, everyone knows that
stage adaptations of novels are always significantly reduced
versions of the original, this adaptation by Comedy Theatre
(Divadlo Komedie) could deservedly be subtitled “a few scenes
from the novel”.)
9.7.2008 17:12:21
26/
A NEW TRIAL
¿Franz Kafka, The Trial / Divadlo Komedie, Praha 2007 / Directed and set design by Dušan David Pařízek / Costumes Kamila Polívková
By the time we reach the climactic scene in the cathedral,
Finger’s hero – or anti-hero – is coping alone, “in duality”: K.’s
dialogue with the clergyman is a soliloquy, a telling of the parable
of the gate to the Law – self-knowledge. The walls that K. knocks
down reveal others, just differently arranged. K. dies surrounded
by the actors from his story and yet alone, like his own judge and
executioner. “Stand by Me” chimes in for the last time, sung as
a chorus, played as a rock song: the shriek of loneliness, distress,
and derision, and perhaps even an urgent invocation.
The production is essentially minimalistic theatre, performed
without breaks, in an abstract space, almost without any props
or other effects, and it is mainly the focused performance of
a well-rounded company that sustains the tension and the
viewer’s attention. The Trial by a new generation of thirtysomethings testifies to the continuing relevance of Kafka’s
diagnosis of illness - the deepening anxiety of man, who has
“awoken” to an awareness of existential isolation, insecurity,
and fear in an alienated world - which has survived intact into
the new century. It is more the author’s conclusion that K. has
no other option but to accept his fate after the futile struggle of
his “trial”. Unlike the novel he fills in this conclusion himself,
which is the logical extension of the shift to subjectivity in the
narrative. This is a very important difference, and it is capped
off by an approach that abandons the author’s objective and
pragmatic version, contrasting with the absurd and shadowy
nature of the world evoked in the novel. The Kafka reader in
me will naturally object to this, but that does not matter; the
performance has already asserted its relevance: it is this shift
and this final song – or shriek – that probably most strongly
conveys the feeling of this new age.
Franz Kafka: The Trial. Adapted, directed, and set design by
Dušan D. Pařízek, costumes Kamila Polívková, lighting Jiří Kufr,
music Ivan Acher. Comedy Theatre, Prague, premiere 3 / 9 / 2007.
A NEW TRIAL
9.7.2008 17:12:21
J.A.Pitínský
A N D
T H E
CLASSICS
Kamila Černá
Božena Němcová, Wild Bara / Slovácké divadlo Uherské Hradiště, 2007
Directed by J. A. Pitínský / Set design Jan Hubínek / Costumes Michaela Hořejší
> Photo Milan Zámečník
027-036_Pitinsky_3k.indd 27
9.7.2008 17:12:47
28/
J. A. PITÍNSKÝ AND THE CLASSICS
While most of the directors of the generation that successfully dominated the Czech stage in the 1990s (Vladimír
Morávek, Michal Dočekal, Hana Burešová, Jan Borna, Jan Nebeský, Jakub Špalek, Jiří Pokorný, Dušan Pařízek)
have in recent years become artistic directors at major Czech theatres, one of the most distinctive figures among
contemporary Czech directors, J. A. Pitínský, has remained independent and moves between various stages in
Bohemia and Moravia. He is one of the few Czech directors of drama not to prefer working with a permanent
ensemble in one theatre, and instead he works both with top major theatres and with small and semi-amateur
companies. He is nonetheless the director who has won the most awards to date for best production of the year
(this Alfréd Radok Award takes its cue from a survey of critics, done since 1992, and Pitínský has won it four
times). Productions he has directed in the past three seasons that figured among the critics’ choice of the year’s
best productions include Ibsen’s Rosmersholm (National Theatre Brno, Národní divadlo Brno, 2005), Vrchlický
and Fibich’s melodrama The Death of Hippodamia (Smrt Hippodamie, Zlín City Theatre, Městské divadlo Zlín,
2006), a dramatisation of one of Božena Němcová’s short stories Wild Bára (Divá Bára, Slovácko Theatre, Slovácké
divadlo Uherské Hradiště, 2007) and a dramatisation of Goethe’s novel Elective Affinities (Dejvice Theatre, Dejvické
divadlo, 2007). From this list alone it is clear that even in recent years Pitínský has remained faithful to working
with Czech and world classics. Like earlier on in his career, he is still inclined to use his own dramatisations of
prose or adapted plays, and his directorial fingerprint typically reveals his feeling for the components of music
and movement in a production and for precisely stylised and rhythmic stage gestures.
P
itínský directed Ibsen’s Rosmersholm for the largest
drama stage in Brno, the National Theatre Brno, in
2005. A year earlier he had also directed Ibsen’s Nora
in Brno, which played to great success on the small semiamateur stage Theatre at 7 and a Half (Divadlo v 7 a půl). The
director deliberately set Nora in a smaller space, like a kind
of plywood box, with a minimum of decoration, which made
the strongly stylised movements and acting and the shift of
the action to the present all the more powerful in their effect.
Unlike the compact space that Nora was set in, in Rosmersholm
Pitínský worked with a large, undefined, and almost empty,
dark space, with tall narrow bookcases standing all over the
stage. During the performance, the librarian, a symbolic figure,
made his way around them on stilts while recounting Nordic
legends, and acting as a kind of commentator on an age when
old values have been abandoned and new ones cannot yet be
relied on. Books pulled from the bookcase were strewn about
the stage. The actors would move them around, scattering them
or arranging them in piles during their monologues. The main
characters, Rosmer (the Slovak actor Martin Huba) and Rebecca
(Kateřina Holánová), balanced between psychologically faithful
interpretations of their characters and stylised performances.
In Pitínský’s interpretation, Rosmer exhibited a surprising
inner gentleness and fragility, a humble victim of fate, while
Rebecca expressed her hopeless inner struggle through dance,
in a furious rhythmic stomping. The other characters in the
play added to the surreal atmosphere: the housekeeper (Ivana
Valešová), whose performance served as a kind of symbolic
warning of an impending threat, or Brendel (Jan Zvoník),
the human derelict, who clings tenaciously to his dreams and
ideals. In Rosmersholm Pitínský conceived the play’s characters
½Jan Antonín Pitínský > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
¾Henrik Ibsen, Rosmersholm / Národní divadlo v Brně, 2005
Directed by J. A. Pitínský / Set design Tomáš Rusín
Costumes Zuzana Štěfunková > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
9.7.2008 17:12:48
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9.7.2008 17:12:50
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¿Jaroslav Vrchlický – Zdeněk Fibich, The Death of Hippodamia / Městské divadlo Zlín, 2006 / Directed by J. A. Pitínský / Set design Pavel Borák
Costumes Michaela Hořejší > Photo archives
as universal symbols of mental conflict and spiritual struggle,
not rooted in any particular time. However, despite creating an
overall image of a gloomy “twilight of the gods”, the production
also offered audiences lighter scenes, presented with wit and
humour. Pitínský did not make any substantial modifications
to the original text. The individual changes he did make (the
librarian recounting Nordic legends or the added timely text by
the editor of a left-wing newspaper) did not affect the overall
tone of the production too much. In the context of the director’s
repertoire, the production of Rosmersholm came across as very
balanced, but it was through his light-handed use of devices,
the excellent performances of the main characters (Rosmer and
Rebecca), and the emphasis on creating a dark atmosphere that
Pitínský succeeded in staging an effective and timeless image of
a period painfully crumbling away.
In 2006 Pitínský, in his native Zlín (which in 1955, when
the director was born, was called Gottwaldov after the first
Communist President Klement Gottwald), directed the
melodrama by Zdeněk Fibich and Jaroslav Vrchlický The Death
of Hippodamia and again demonstrated that he is one of the few
directors capable of making effective dramatic use of the space of
the large stage of Zlín City Theatre. This too was a production of
a classic work: Jaroslav Vrchlický was one of the biggest figures
of Czech poetry in the 19th century, and his dramatic trilogy
in verse, Hippodamia (The Death of Hippodamia is the third of
the three plays), put to music by the composer Zdeněk Fibich,
as a melodrama, is a trying test for any director, conductor or
actors who take it on. In the play, the actors perform a dramatic
text in combination with music, which significantly contributes
to shaping the text’s meaning. Hippodamia rarely appears on
the Czech stage, not just because it is so demanding on actors
and musically, but also because today few know how to give this
specific genre a modern theatrical look. Pitínský took advantage
of the setting of this tragic, classically themed drama, which is
situated in the ancient Olympic games, and he used film footage
from the recent Olympics held in Athens to form the background,
which played continuously on the set backdrop. The impressive
size of the film screen and the excellent choice of shots enabled
the director to create the aura of a true celebration of physical
strength, prowess and beauty, in the spirit of the ancient idea of
the Olympic games, and at the same time it gave a distinctive
frame to the tragedy and a link to the present. In the play, Pelops
(Dušan Sitko) and Hippodamia (Helena Čermáková) are taking
part in the festivities heralding the start of the games. In the
production, this ceremony made use of elements of ancient ritual
combined with the contemporary pomp of a sports show. The
characters were dressed in costumes in the fashion of the 1950s,
the set designs included the spectacular decor of the festivities,
but also the use of spare simple contemporary furniture (rows
of wooden seats), and artistically clean sets, harmonised in
¾Fráňa Šrámek, The Bells / Národní divadlo, Praha 2006 / Directed by
J. A. Pitínský / Set design Jan Hubínek / Costumes Kateřina Štěfková
9.7.2008 17:12:50
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9.7.2008 17:12:51
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¿J. W. Goethe, Elective Affinities / Dejvické divadlo,
Praha 2006 / Directed by J. A. Pitínský / Set design
Jan Štěpánek / Costumes Jana Preková > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
¿Božena Němcová, Wild Bara / Slovácké divadlo Uherské Hradiště, 2007 / Directed
by J. A. Pitínský / Set design Jan Hubínek / Costumes Michaela Hořejší
> Photo Milan Zámečník
J.A.Pitínský
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9.7.2008 17:12:52
/33
¿Božena Němcová, Wild Bara / Slovácké divadlo Uherské Hradiště, 2007 / Directed by J. A. Pitínský / Set design Jan Hubínek
Costumes Michaela Hořejší > Photo Milan Zámečník
prevailingly black or white colours. Pitínský relied strongly on
Fibich’s music to help describe situations and the inner world of
each of the characters, and he focused primarily on consistently
stylising the performances, employing grand, statuesque gestures
and even making use of the now much-dreaded onstage pathos.
All this surprisingly came together to create a production that
was modern in expression but retained its classic dimension of
a tragedy. The stylised movements, acting, and performances
gave the production exactly the right measure of “operatic”
detachment, allowing it to overcome the demanding nature of
Vrchlický’s verse and the exaltedly heroising text, without at
the same time depriving this story about the struggle between
reason and passion of its force, earnestness, and its message.
With Hippodamia Pitínský succeeded in putting a fascinating
piece of “grand” theatre on the large stage in Zlín, which
included the use of the fifty-member orchestra of the Zlín
philharmonic, in a production that was an extraordinary
success among audiences and critics, but he was far from as
successful on the country’s number one stage, the National
Theatre (Národní divadlo) in Prague, where in 2006 he staged
Fráňa Šrámek’s play The Bells (Zvony). Šrámek was one of the
most interesting early 20th-century Czech authors of poetry
about love and nature and against war, and he also wrote several
plays. The Bells was one of his unsuccessful plays. It has only
been staged twice since 1921, and perhaps the greatest merit in
Pitínský’s production of this work was his rediscovery of the text
of the play and its special raw poetic language. The drama is
situated in a Czech country village during the third year of the
First World War. With the men at war, the women are living
alone in the village and performing the men’s work, and they
are wanting for love and missing the natural ties of the village
community. When soldiers appear in the village to take away the
church bells and melt them down, the women are transformed
into a wild and uncontrollable crowd, like a classical chorus of
harpies or Bacchae. This chorus was the prime mover of events.
The women in it were expressively made up; initially wearing
coarse men’s clothing, and then gradually changing into
traditional costume, their stylised, uniform movements made
them look like pagan priestesses. The chorus sang a portion of
the text of the play, including the stage notes. Jan Hubínek’s
set was also stylised — making profuse use of a brown shade,
like the colour of parched land, as though in reference to the
emotional aridity of the village, whose inhabitants have been
literally trampled underground by the war, and whom he had
emerging out of dwellings resembling dugouts. In the second
part of the production, when the action moved inside the
dwellings, the set was somewhat “humanised” by the presence
of furniture and minor rural accessories. Alongside the stylised
acting of the chorus, the distinctively elaborated main characters
also stood out: the farmer Peterka (Jiří Štěpnička), his ill wife
(Taťjana Medvecká), and his servant Rozára. The performances
of these characters, which did not follow the extreme grotesque
stylisation of the others, were among the strongest moments
in the entire production, which on the whole often hovered on
the edge between a just bearable pathos and stylisation and
an unendurably exaggerated expressivity of speech and style.
Alongside the parts that managed to keep to the right level
of stylisation and grotesque relief, there were also stilted and
9.7.2008 17:12:53
34/
9.7.2008 17:12:54
½Božena Němcová, The Grandmother / Národní divadlo, Praha 2007
Directed by J. A. Pitínský / Set design Jan Štěpánek / Costumes
Jana Preková > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
affected scenes, in places accompanied by an unintelligible text.
Nevertheless, there is no denying the production’s moral and
emotional force and especially its ability to look at Šrámek’s play
through modern eyes, as a portrait of an age that made people
worse than they really were.
Pitínský’s last production in 2006 was his dramatisation
of Johann Wolfgang Goethe’s novel Elective Affinities (Die
Wahlverwandtschaften), played on the intimate stage of Dejvice
Theatre in Prague. He created a delicate but also deeply
meaningful dramatic tale of the fateful attraction between two
men and two women: one married couple, Charlotte (Lenka
Krobotová) and Eduard (Jaroslav Plesl), invite (foolishly confident of their intellectual and emotional bond) their friend Ota
(Václav Neužil) and Charlotte’s niece Ottilie (Martha Issová) to
their country home. The hosts are devotees of the natural sciences
and theorise about how it is possible to cite parallels between
the forces of nature and the origin and demise of relationships
between people – and the relationships between the four main
characters really do become complicated and head inevitably
towards a tragic denouement. The production was also built on
strongly stylised movement and visual components. Its artistic
and ideological grounding was an attempt to reflect Goethe’s
age, not as a historically exact reflection, but rather as a portrait
derived from the accumulation of current notions about that time.
The dialogue between Eduard and Charlotte at the start of the
production seemed almost a parody of the obsession of Goethe’s
age with science, progress, and knowledge. Even the evening
at home with guests was played in a slightly ironic tone, where
the affected French conversation alternates with the overhead
projection of drawings on transparencies. The awkwardness the
characters feel from the unexpected attractions that emerge in this
lovers’ “quadrangle” is expressed by the actors through wooden
gestures, puppet-like movements, and affected, faltering speech.
This came across as both comical and touching; the deliberate
stylisation seemingly prevented the characters from expressing
their emotions, but in actuality it served to reveal them entirely.
The production moved at an odd, fluctuating pace, bustling
scenes alternating with deliberately protracted ones, and the
rhythm of the production was accentuated by the musical
numbers, in which the characters polyphonically sang period
songs to Goethe’s texts. As the story progressed the method of
acting also changed – the performances and visual components
became less stylised. The set, designed by Jan Štěpánek, was
initially a bizarre post-modern design and then it gradually took
on the character of a romantic scene. Certain parallels emerged
between the traits and feelings about life possessed by Goethe’s
heroes and those of the modern generation – on the one hand,
they are precocious know-it-alls, and on the other hand,
juvenile and immature, and they typically have a fashionable
longing to know the “curiosities” of life. The meticulous work
with bizarre and lyrical poetics, the fragile boundary between
true passion and irony, and the convincing performances, made
/35
Pitínský’s production of Goethe’s text one of the best Czech
drama productions of 2006.
At the start of 2007 Pitínský returned to Moravia, this time
to Slovácko Theatre in Uherské Hradiště, where in 2004 he
had directed a very successful production of The Cunning
Little Vixen (Liška Bystrouška), which won several prestigious
critic awards. This time he took as his material three stories by
Božena Němcová, the most famous Czech woman writer of the
19th century. The selected stories were: The Song about Viktorka
(Píseň o Viktorce), Karla and Wild Bára (Divá Bára). All three
depict the fortunes of country girls who in one way or another
deviate from the standard path of village life and pay for doing
so. The Song about Viktorka is a dramatisation of one section
taken from Němcová’s best-known piece of work, her novel The
Grandmother (Babička). Viktorka, a proud village beauty, falls
in love with a soldier who is passing through the village with his
unit. The soldier leaves, and Viktorka is left expecting his child;
she goes out of her mind with grief, throws the child into the
river, and several years later dies tragically herself. Karla is the
somewhat strange tale of a boy whose mother dressed him as a girl
from a very young age in order to protect him from being taken
by the army, and Wild Bára is the story of an unusual, wild and
independent-minded young woman, whom the village fears and
persecutes. All three stories were surprisingly set in the war year
of 1940 and situated in the town of Valašské Meziříčí, which is
where the famous Czech director Alfréd Radok fled from Prague
after the Czech universities were shut down during the war. He
worked there as a clerk and collaborated with the local amateur
theatre ensemble. Pitínský created the production to look like
a dress rehearsal of Radok’s amateur ensemble performing the
three aforementioned stories. This context of a rehearsal made
it possible for Pitínský to step into the plot, stop it unexpectedly,
and establish an objective distance through the comments of
the director and the actors. Even German censors were placed in
the rehearsal, and their presence heightened the sense of direct
threat to the actors in the performance and the general sense
of existential anxiety over the fate of the nation. In the end, the
German censors interrupted the rehearsal, and the conclusion
resurrected the issue of Czech intolerance towards anyone who
in some way strays from the standard norms, the way all three
heroines in the individual parts of the production did.
This visually impressive production was based on contrasting
a black background with colourful costumes, which in The Song
about Viktorka were inspired by folk costumes, in Karla by the
frightening fantasticality of carnival masks, and in Wild Bářa
by the stylised elements of village and contemporary dress. An
important part of the production was the musical accompaniment,
provided by a band with a dulcimer playing live onstage during
the performance. Each of the actors played several roles, and
alongside acting their roles they also had to be capable of singing,
dancing, and performing choreographed movements and choral
recitations. Jitka Josková gave outstanding performances as
Viktorka and Bára, as did Tereza Novotná-Miklíková in the role
of Viktorka’s sister Mařenka. Despite the complex structure of
the production and its intricate layers of meaning, in Uherské
Hradiště Pitínský succeeded in creating a production that came
9.7.2008 17:12:55
36/
across as compact, appealed with its colourful theatricality, and
at the same time retained a clean style.
Božena Němcová is the author of the material for Pitínský’s
most recent production at the National Theatre in Prague. The
Grandmother is a classic work of Czech literature, required
reading at school, and well known by everyone, and it has
already been adapted several times for film. The heroine of the
work is an elderly woman, the writer's grandmother, who lives
her life in harmony with others, with nature and with God, and
is the embodiment of wisdom and a harmonious existence.
The dramatisation injects some discordant notes into this
idyll; the authors of the adaptation (J. A. Pitínský and Lenka
Kolihová Havlíková) tried to portray the uneasy lot of the female
characters (Babička, her daughters and granddaughters, and
even the crazy Viktorka, the character of the Countess, and her
foster daughter). In the final scene these fates were supposed to
converge thematically with the fate of the writer Němcová and
with the fate of the actor in the lead role, Vlasta Chramostová,
who as a dissident was persecuted by the Communist regime.
The dramatisation also tried not to accentuate the notoriously
well-known points in the plot that the film versions centred on
(e.g. Viktorka's love story), but these parts are also in places
the most dramatic ones in the story, and when they are shifted
into the background, the production has nothing to rest on. It
is this dramatic charge that Pitínský's production was lacking.
It suffered from being overly drawn out and often came across
as a poorly executed and rather awkwardly stylised reproduction
of the material. Here the director traditionally exhibited his
feeling for working with the musical and movement components
of a production, but unfortunately he tended to draw on his
former productions of 19th-century Czech classics, and he was
unable to find a consistent and artistically original style for his
production of The Grandmother. Pitínský’s The Grandmother
seemed like a strange collage made out of individual scenes, and
what is obvious is that the emphasis on the hard lot of women
was artificially (and sometimes even ridiculously) implanted
in the work. Some of the portraits of rural life were at least
artistically impressive, but others were awkward and affected.
Here the cohesive and stylistic element of the production was the
seemingly relentless and over-sized sounding music of Vladimír
Franz, rather than the director’s interpretation. The Grandmother
provoked a wave of negative reactions and criticisms among
critics, but there were some who supported it.
It is characteristic of Pitínský that he is not as sucessful at the
National Theatre in Prague as he is on other stages. The success
of his productions tends to hinge on the chosen theme, but also
on the malleable qualities of the actors and the production team
he works with. He has the best results when the ensemble follows
the director’s search for the right expression, but his directorial
work bears up poorly when confronted with professional
routine. Despite some failures, however, Pitínský continues to
be one of the most interesting directors in the Czech Republic,
with a unique vision and the courage to try out new ideas.
Henrik Ibsen: Rosmersholm. Adapted by Vendula Borůvková
and J. A. Pitínský, directed by J. A Pitínský, set Tomáš Rusín,
costumes Zuzana Štefunková, music Richard Dvořák. National
Theatre Brno, premiere 17 / 6 / 2005.
Jaroslav Vrchlický – Zdeněk Fibich: The Death of Hippodamia.
Directed by J. A. Pitínský, conductor and music interpretation
Roman Válek, set Pavel Borák, costumes Michaela Hořejší. Zlín
City Theatre, premiere 11 / 2 / 2006.
Fráňa Šrámek: The Bells. Directed by J. A. Pitínský, set Jan
Hubínek, costumes Kateřina Šefková, music Petr Hromádka.
National Theatre, Prague, premiere 15 / 6 / 2006.
Johann Wolfgang Goethe: Elective Affinities. Dramatisation
(based on a translation by E. A. Saudek) by Karel Tománek,
directed by J. A. Pitínský, set Jan Štěpánek, costumes Jana
Preková, choreographic collaboration Jan Kodet, music and
musical collaboration Richard Dvořák. Dejvice Theatre, premiere
2 / 11 / 2006.
Božena Němcová: Wild Bára. Conceived and directed by J. A.
Pitínský, dramatisation by Eva Tálská and Matěj T. Růžička,
set Jan Hubínek, costumes Michaela Hořejší, choreography Igor
Dostálek, music Petr Hromádka. Slovácko Theatre Uherské
Hradiště, premiere 20 / 1 / 2007.
Božena Němcová: The Grandmother. Dramatisation by
J. A. Pitínský and Lenka Kolihová Havlíková, directed by
J. A. Pitínský, set Jan Štěpánek, costumes Jana Preková,
music Vladimír Franz. National Theatre, Prague, premiere
13 / 12 / 2007.
J.A.Pitínský
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9.7.2008 17:12:55
Jana Machalická
THE CZECH WEB
OF THEATRE
CZECH AND MORAVIAN REGIONAL THEATRES
037-052_Oblasti_3k.indd 37
9.7.2008 17:15:00
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THE CZECH WEB OF THEATRE – CZECH AND MORAVIAN REGIONAL THEATRES
T
he network of regional theatres that emerged in the
Czechoslovak state is a phenomenon for which it would
be hard to find any parallel abroad. Geographically it is
a relatively dense and balanced system of permanent repertoire
theatres home to at least one company and offering theatrical
performances for the public in the given region. A certain
counterpart to this system exists in nearby German-speaking
countries, owing to similar development in the past and the use
of a repertoire-based method of operation. Although since 1990
the regional theatres have begun to stake out their own place and
look for ways in which to shake off the image of playing “second
fiddle” to the centre stars, they are not in an easy position.
The roots of the theatre network in this country can be traced
back to the end of the Second World War, when repertoire
theatres with their own companies began to emerge in towns in
the border regions, largely the Sudetenland (the region on the
border of the Czech Republic that was annexed in 1938 by Nazi
Germany on the basis of the Munich Agreement), and especially
wherever permanent German professional companies had
operated in the past, but also in traditionally Czech localities.
Although after 1948 some of the hastily established theatres
were subsequently shut down (Regional Theatre of J. K. Tyl
in Kutná Hora / Oblastní divadlo J. K. Tyla; Regional Opera in
Jablonec nad Nisou / Oblastní zpěvohra v Jablonci nad Nisou;
Tábor Regional Town Theatre / Městské oblastní divadlo Tábor;
Šumava Regional Theatre in Klatovy / Pošumavské oblastní
divadlo v Klatovech; or Nový Bor Regional Town Theatre /
Městské oblastní divadlo Nový Bor), the first wave of founding
new theatres can be said to have taken place between 1945 and
1951 (it was at that time, for example, that what is now Theatre
Šumperk of Northern Moravia / Severomoravské divadlo
Šumperk, was founded) and the founding or more often the
re-founding of theatres continued in connection with the new
legislation on theatre arts that was introduced in 1955.
From today’s perspective it seems incredible how overextended
the theatre network was. It was intended as the implementation
and manifestation of the idea of decentralisation developed by
the Minister of Culture Zdeněk Nejedlý, which was based on
the unrealistic premise that top actors from Prague would be
dispersed throughout the regions and fundamentally transform
the level of quality of local theatre. A role in this was also
played by the “constructivist” mood of the post-war period and
a genuine longing, after six years of German military occupation,
to be able to freely attend Czech theatre.
The system of regional theatres was further shaped in the
1960s, when some theatres were closed or merged with others
(for example, in 1963 Beskydy Theatre in Nový Jičín / Beskydské
divadlo v Novém Jičíně, or the Western Bohemia Theatre in
Klatovy / Západočeské divadlo v Klatovech, were closed, and
the town theatres in Benešov and Hořovice were merged and
formed the foundation for the emerging theatre in Příbram,
where according to the communist regime a permanent theatre
was required for the local uranium miners). The last regional
½A. P. Checkov, The Seagull / Slovácké divadlo Uherské Hradiště, 2003
Direction by Oxana Smilková – Meleshkina / Set design and costumes
Jevgenij Kulikov > Photo Jiří Kalabis
theatre was founded in 1961, Cheb Regional Theatre (Krajské
oblastní divadlo Cheb), soon after renamed the Border Guard
Theatre (Divadlo pohraniční stráže).
This brief historical excursion was essential if we are to
understand the foundations on which Czech regional theatre
operates today, what its priorities are, what traditions it draws
on and conditions it works with, and, at the same time, what
constraints it is under.
This system functioned without any serious difficulties up
until 1989, but it was marked by an unhealthy and unnatural
rigidity. The artists did not often change their engagement.
While those at regional theatres could end up working in Prague,
the system contained a standardised trajectory for progressing
between theatres: an artist progressed from small, remote
theatres first to larger and better-known theatres and only then
was able to move on to Prague. Moving between theatres was
restricted, monitored and sometimes even controlled by the
Communist Party and other supervisory bodies, and it was not
even unusual for the State Security Service to interfere.
After 1970, during the normalisation period (the period
when the communist regime re-established its grip following
the invasion of Warsaw Pact troops in Czechoslovakia in August
1968), a peculiarity of that time was the movement between
theatres in the opposite direction: top artists were forced to
move from central to regional theatres. These particular artists
were people who for political reasons were no longer allowed to
work in the theatres and companies they had been engaged in
before normalisation and which they had often led to become
European-class venues (such directors included, for example,
Jan Grossman, Jan Kačer, Miloš Hynšt and Alois Hajda).
The consequences of this political persecution paradoxically
benefited the regional theatres – expelled artists, together with
the young generation of directors just taking shape, began in
the theatres outside the centres to pursue a unique dramatic
programme, often based on studio principles and developed in
experimental spaces (for example, F. X. Šalda Theatre in Liberec / Divadlo F. X. Šaldy, Liberec; Victorious February Theatre
in Hradec Králové / Divadlo Vítězného února, Hradec Králové).
Essentially, it was “thanks” to normalisation that even the
regional theatres, which had previously been presented more as
functional stages servicing one region or another (for example,
Cheb Regional Theatre / Západočeské divadlo Cheb), had their
own important eras. With just a few exceptions, by 1990 almost
every regional theatre in Czechoslovakia could boast having
experienced an interesting period in its recent history, even if it
was for just a short time, when a particular director and the right
dramaturgy came together.
In the 1970s it was also in the regions that two important
theatres emerged: in 1972 the Drama Studio in Ústí nad Labem
(Činoherní studio v Ústí nad Labem), and two years later
Prostějov’s Ha-Divadlo, which naturally progressed into a fully
professional company and in the mid-1980s moved to Brno.
Today there are approximately fifteen theatres in the regional
network. Only Prague and Brno are theatre centres. Ostrava,
given its distance from the capital, is in a specific position,
because, although it is home to a number of theatres, the
conditions are not commensurable with the conditions in the
9.7.2008 17:15:01
other two cities. Permanent engagements guarantee actors work
and let both theatres and audiences benefit from the advantages
of a repertoire programme. On the other hand, there is more
than one specific difficulty involved in how these theatres and
the work they do operate.
Local artists, for example, do not have very strong ties to the
media (film, television, dubbing work, etc.) and there are few
opportunities for additional artistic work, which, given how
little theatre actors earn, makes it difficult for artists to support
themselves. Nevertheless, drama school graduates heading to the
regional theatres are clearly not doing so because they have no
other choice. Those who have opted to take this direction do so
mainly owing to a desire to pursue their own idea of theatre,
where usually there is less commercial pressure and no need to
be constantly confronted with unpredictable competition.
On the other hand, it is impossible not to notice the lack of
directors, in particular, willing to take up long-term engagements
as artistic directors at regional theatres. For the past decade, and
perhaps even longer, guest directors from various corners of the
country have been alternating in most regional theatres – the
theatre network has opened up and become integrated, and
there is almost no guest engagement or form of cooperation that
is impossible. An unfortunate side-effect of this in many ways
enriching practice is that there is no one in place to systematically
and purposefully develop and mould the companies (in this
regard, several theatres have long been in a critical state, for
example, Liberec’s F. X. Šalda Theatre).
Another cluster of problems relates to the economic side of
Cheb
/39
running regional theatres. Until November 1989 the theatre
network included theatres that had as many as four companies.
This expensive model had to be done away with: the opera and
operetta companies usually merged; the ballet companies often
survived – albeit reduced in size – due in part to the “services”
they provided to the productions of other companies. Only J.
K. Tyl Theatre in Pilsen (Divadlo J. K. Tyla v Plzni) and the
National Moravian-Silesian Theatre in Ostrava (Národní divadlo
moravskoslezské, Ostrava) were left intact. The only theatre
that has actually been newly transformed into a four-company
theatre is the Southern Bohemia Theatre (Jihočeské divadlo) in
České Budějovice, with the addition of a puppetry company.
While the scope of regional theatres covers the entire country,
unfortunately no systemic approach to their existence has yet
been developed and the problem of their multi-source financing
has remained unaddressed. The fact that regional theatres today
essentially belong to the towns they are in and are largely funded
out of the municipal budgets leaves them in a position where
they are overly dependent on the local town hall, and the most
poignant expressions of this are found in inappropriate attempts
to influence the dramaturgy and production practices. The past
two decades have literally been lined with conflicts between
theatre directors and their trustee institutions, which have more
than once ended with the dismissal of the theatre’s management
– it is the common practice of municipal authorities to try to
solve these conflicts by means of personnel changes.
A national exception in this regard is the Town Theatre of
Mladá Boleslav (Městské divadlo Mladá Boleslav). Until 1994
Praha
Ostrava
Brno
Zlín
Uherské Hradiště
9.7.2008 17:15:02
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it was a branch stage of a theatre complex headquartered in
Kladno. Its efforts to become independent received by and large
unprecedented support from the town and its local businesses,
especially the Škoda Company. However, in exchange for the
financial generosity of the theatre’s sponsors, who were longing
for a prestigious local theatre, it has been fully dependent on the
municipal authorities, and by extension, the taste of the public.
It is one of the most conventional theatres in the country.
At the same time it is hard not to see that regional theatres
cannot ignore the composition of the population around their
locations. Regional theatres require a more balanced dramaturgy
and even the production practices have to at least somewhat
take into account the claims made on them by the subscription
system that all the theatres are dependent on. A constant and
difficult task for the regional theatres in particular is the effort
to find and retain a balance between possible artistic feats or
even experiments and the need to direct the piece at the wide
spectrum of the local population. These constraints on artistic
creativity in regional theatres cannot be altered and such
a change would not even be desirable – in the realm of Czech
theatre the regional theatres are a specific phenomenon with
a specific mission and specific tasks.
In recent years some regional theatres have exhibited
greater artistic stability, especially in locations where it has
been possible to retain an artistic director for a longer period
of time. For example, the Southern Bohemia Theatre in
České Budějovice has established a strong reputation for its
drama repertoire under the direction of Martin Glaser and the
Silesian Theatre in Opava for its opera company. Some theatres
managed to penetrate public awareness as a result of a strong
directorial era or by acquiring a reputation for daringness, such
as the Drama Studio in Ústí nad Labem. After 1989, influenced
by the tradition its theatre had to offer, young drama school
graduates began migrating to this North Bohemian town. The
Drama Studio has consistently been able to perform original
work, often using provocative texts and directorial methods; in
the early 1990s, when it was headed by Jiří Pokorný, it became
home to the “in-yer-face” genre of theatre.
Klicpera Theatre (Klicperovo divadlo) in Hradec Králové
has become one of the most remarkable theatres since 1989.
There is no doubt that behind all its activity lies the determined
work of the theatre’s manager Ladislav Zeman, who put his
full confidence in the director Vladimír Morávek to create
a distinctive programme of productions. Zeman must also take
credit for organising the annual international Theatre of Regions
Festival, which has existed for over a decade. Both this work
and the festival attracted and continue to attract the attention
of critics. On the other hand, Klicpera Theatre’s success and
its recent development offer a pretty good illustration of the
mechanisms at work in the regions, because even if a regional
stage builds up a good reputation and wins over the interest
of professionals and theatre enthusiasts, there is no increase to
its sphere of influence and it has no chance of evolving into an
internationally respected theatre, because all of Czech theatre
has long been plagued with difficulties in doing so. Even if
the majority of critics give a positive assessment of Morávek’s
work at Klicpera Theatre, it must nonetheless be acknowledged
that at least some portion of the theatre’s audiences has had
difficulty grasping his exclusive poetics.
Clearly, the productions that emerge in the regional theatres
of Bohemia and Moravia can be great, average or bad, just as
they are of course at the theatres in urban cultural centres. Since
November 1989, with the theatres working in the conditions
of freedom, it rarely happens that a truly good production is
overlooked. Equally, if a talented artist comes out with some
original programmes, this does not go unnoticed. However,
there is no use trying to disguise the fact that the best have
always and will always head to the capital. It is logical and
natural that they do. It does not detract from the regions, and
efforts to veil or ignore this tendency are pointless. It is not the
purpose of the work of the regional theatres to compete with the
big metropolitan theatres.
The public is very conscious of the importance of “their”
local theatres. The story of one of the most significant regional
theatres, the Municipal Theatre of Karlovy Vary (Městské divadlo
v Karlových Varech) provides evidence of this. A few years ago
the theatre found itself in a conflict with its trustee institution as
the result of a crisis that had been going on for years. Around ten
individuals passed through the position of the theatre’s director
within fourteen years and attendance figures had fallen to
a deplorable low. Up until the theatre was threatened with being
shut down as a permanent town theatre the public took little
interest in what was going on and made no effort to run to the
theatre’s defence. When that threat became immediate, petition
after petition was signed, protests were organised, and so on.
The population of this spa town suddenly understood that, were
they to lose their permanent theatre, they would be forfeiting
something that they may not even have been able to define: the
opportunity to live in a place with its own actors and directors,
who in a distinctive and relevant way play a part in its cultural
image. Although the residents of Karlovy Vary only won half
of their “battle” (it was taken over by the private, Prague-based
Theatre without Balustrades, Divadlo Bez zábradlí, as its second
stage), it is still good to realise that this kind of relationship to
theatre culture exists in the regions. And that is something that
can be built on. It is a source of strength and meaning.
THE CZECH WEB
OF THEATRE
CZECH AND MORAVIAN REGIONAL THEATRES
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THEATRE IN
SOUTHERN MORAVIA
Jan Kerbr
(UHERSKÉ HRADIŠTĚ)
Praha
Brno
Uherské Hradiště
T
he idea of regional theatre as a forum to accommodate
the widest possible range of public tastes has in recent
years been extinguished. The arena of mass or popular
entertainment has shifted into the household living room, facing
a flickering television screen, and the structure of the theatregoing public even outside cultural centres has begun to change.
It is not about pleasing everyone, but about appealing to the
interest of those most likely and inclined to attend the theatre.
In this regard the regional city of Ústí nad Labem has
been unique for years. It is home to the unconventional
Drama Studio theatre company, which has been running
since before the revolution in 1989. In the years since it was
founded in 1972 the company has seen continuous rounds of
changes (often involving entire groups of its members), but,
though the city does not have a conventional theatre scene, its
“avant-garde” tradition has survived intact to date. In Hradec
Králové, Klicpera’s Theatre experienced profound changes
in its repertoire and artistic quality during the 1990s. The
theatre is closely associated with the creative heyday of the
director Vladimír Morávek, and it continues to benefit from his
artistic investment today, even though he is no longer there.
The quality of the productions has at least remained solid, and
there are no kitschy titles or works just pandering to popular
taste in the theatre’s repertoire (if comedy, then only works by
major authors of world drama). In recent years other theatres
have begun to adopt a more sophisticated focus – for example,
in České Budějovice, Cheb, and Zlín. Performances in regional
theatres are no longer required to appeal to everyone, and the
sacrifices to meet expectations of mass attendance are certainly
¿Slovácko Theatre Uherské Hradiště, build 1927, theatre from 1957
> Photo archives
no more pronounced in these theatres than similar compromises
made in so-called culture centres.
For just under a decade positive talk has surrounded the
ascent of Slovácko Theatre (Slovácké divadlo) in Uherské
Hradiště (the smallest city in the country to boast its own
professional theatre company!). It was founded in 1945, but it
only began to draw national attention at the start of this century
(and millennium). The company has enriched its ranks with
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the addition of new graduates from Brno and Zlín. The director
Igor Stránský, who is also the head of the company, has begun
engaging interesting guests to participate in new productions.
The company’s dramaturgy has proven to be bold, and in recent
years it has staged the Czech premieres of a number of domestic
and foreign plays.
Around the time of the 2001-2002 season a fresh wind
seemed to blow in. The idiosyncratic Moravian author and
gagman Marian Palla saw the premiere of his crazy and very
unconventional comedy Sajns fikšn (the Czech phonetic
transcription of the word “science fiction”) staged in Uherské
Hradiště. In 2002 J. A. Pitínský, a very prominent Czech director,
was invited to work with the company (a theatre professional
who rotates between numerous engagements in various theatres,
Pitínský lives relatively close to Uherské Hradiště), with which
he then prepared an ambitious project to stage Dostoyevsky’s
Brothers Karamazov (taking a dramatisation he had once
participated in from an earlier attempt at the Goose on a String
Theatre in Brno). The actors managed this demanding dramatic
piece at an amazing tempo, and there were some particularly
outstanding performances (for example, Tomáš Šulaj as Mitya,
Jitka Josková as Grushenka, Josef Kubáník as Smerdyakov).
Even the figures of the Grand Inquisitor and the Devil were
integrated into and portrayed in this somewhat unconventional
edition of the work. After Pitínský, the company called on the
director Oxana Smilková-Meleshkina, whose reputation is that
of a very provocative director. Her background predestines her
to come up with distinctive versions of the Russian classics,
which she has no fear of handling irreverently. She began with
¿F. M. Dostoyevsky, Brothers Karamazov / Slovácké divadlo Uherské
Hradiště, 2002 / Directed by J. A. Pitínský / Set design Ján Zavarský
Costumes Kateřina Bláhová > Photo archives
1. William Shakespeare, King Richard III / Slovácké divadlo Uherské
Hradiště, 2006 / Directed by Igor Stránský / Set design Jaroslav Malina
Costumes Eva Jiříková > Photo Miroslav Potyka
2. Jaroslav Rudiš, Petr Pýcha, Summer in Lapland / Slovácké divadlo
Uherské Hradiště, 2006 / Directed by Jiří Honzírek / Set design and costumes
Radomír Otýpka > Photo Jan Karásek
3. M. J. Lermontov, Masquerade / Slovácké divadlo Uherské Hradiště,
2005 / Directed by Oxana Smilková – Meleshkina / Set design and costumes
Jevgenij Kulikov > Photo Jan Karásek
4. Tom Stoppard, The Real Thing / Slovácké divadlo Uherské Hradiště,
2004 / Directed by Ladislav Pešek / Set design and costumes Eva Jiříkovská
> Photo Miroslav Potyka
5. Marián Palla, Again I Washed Myself for Nothing / Slovácké
divadlo Uherské Hradiště, 2003 / Directed by Ladislav Pešek / Set design and
costumes Marián Palla > Photo Miroslav Potyka
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Chekhov’s The Seagull, casting Jitka Josková and Tomáš Šulaj
in the roles of Nina and Konstantin, which quickly made them
the most popular actors in the local drama scene. Pitínský and
Smilková-Meleshkina began cultivating the theatre’s audiences
(Slovácko Theatre draws its public from nearby and more
remote surrounding areas, and relatively often travels out to
its audiences). There is a healthy sort of local patriotic support
in Uherské Hradiště for its cultural representatives (alongside
the theatre the city is also home to one of the most progressive,
European-class folklore groups, Hradišťan) and this approach
helps ease the reception of more demanding projects.
In 2004 the high-point of local drama productions took
place in Slovácko Theatre with the staging of Těsnohlídek’s
drama The Cunning Little Vixen (Liška Bystrouška, the play
that inspired Janáček’s opera), directed by Pitínský. This
anthropomorphised parable situated in the animal kingdom
was one of the best productions of the year (it was even
staged as part of the Theatre Festival in Pilsen). The stylised
movements of the wild and domestic animals were the work
of the choreographer Igor Dostálek and were inspired by Asian
forms of drama. Jitka Josková excelled in the title role of this
highly creative production, while notable performances were
also given by Zdeněk Trčálek as the dog Lapák, Tomáš Šulaj as
Sharp-Ears’s dear Fox Golden-mane, and Vladimír Doskočil in
the role of the Forester who kills the lovestruck creatures.
Oxana Smilková-Meleshkina produced a daring interpretation of Lermontov’s Masquerade in Uherské Hradiště. Over
time, other noteworthy guests have appeared: Martin Porubjak
presented Brecht’s The Beggar’s Opera and situated it in
a prison for women, where the guard (Tomáš Šulaj) rehearses
this well-known story with the prisoners and himself plays
Mackheat; Radovan Lipus last year staged a dramatised version
of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Evidence of how fresh
the company’s repertoire has remained is offered by the Czech
premieres of Vian’s The Generals’ Tea Party, Stoppard’s The
Real Thing, and Egressy’s circus romance Blue, Blue, Blue.
Uherské Hradiště is also brave enough to work with original
texts (the above-mentioned Palla staged another of his plays here:
Again I Washed Myself for Nothing (Zase jsem se umýval zbytečně);
Slovácko Theatre put on the first production of the play Summer in
Lapland (Léto v Laponsko) by the creative duo Rudiš and Pýcha;
together with Vladimír Fekar, Jakub Maceček wrote – and then
directed – a biographical extravaganza for the company about
the forerunner to the French accursed poets, F. Villon – They’ll
Hang a Noose on Your Neck (F. Villon - na krk oprátku ti věší). The
company has even ventured to take on Havel’s The Memorandum
(Vyrozumění) and Shakespeare’s Richard III. Worth mentioning
are Josef Kubáník’s performance as Baláš in Havel’s play, and
Tomáš Šulaj’s masterful portrayal of Richard. The company
worked on both these plays with their director-head Igor Stránský.
J. A. Pitínský is an increasingly frequent guest of the theatre, and
his third production on the theatre’s stage was the three-part
composition Wild Bára (Divá Bára) based on the story by Božena
Němcová, another of the peaks in the work of this local company.
Nor have the more entertaining parts of Slovácko Theatre’s
repertoire been neglected. Foglar’s Rapid Arrows (Rychlé šípy,
a dramatisation of the popular children’s scouting “epopee”)
enjoys a massive and curious popularity and has been part of
the company’s repertoire for an incredible seven years, having
a total of 285 performances behind it as of 31 December 2007 (in
the summer, for instance, visitors to the nearby castle Buchlov
take in performances). All-round musical talent is a staple
characteristic of the drama company’s performers, so the
company can even venture into the sphere of musicals, and its
performances in this genre definitely rank among the best in the
country. On such productions the company works with Radek
Balaš, who is today probably the best musical director in the
country. The musicians of Hradišťan are entrusted with leading
the music rehearsals. Tomáš Šulaj won the prestigious Thalia
Award in the operetta-musical category for his performance in
the title role of the musical The Full Monty (the most frequently
performed musical in the Czech Republic at this time). This stable
company (which, alongside the above-mentioned performers,
includes, for example, Jaroslava Tihelková, Tereza NovotnáMikšíčková, Jiří Hejcman and Martin Vrtáček) ranks among the
dramatic ensembles where the prevailing atmosphere is not one
of boring routine but, on the contrary, where the productions
exude a vibrant sense of joy and energy.
THEATRE IN
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9.7.2008 17:15:04
THEATRE IN BAŤA’S CITY
/45
THEATRE IN BAŤA'S CITY
(ZLÍN)
Jana Machalická
Praha
Brno
Zlín
I
t was Tomáš Baťa, who essentially built the city of Zlín
around his shoemaking enterprise, who came up with the
idea of building a theatre there. However, his plans for doing
so were thwarted by the German occupation of Czechoslovakia
during the Second World War. A permanent theatre was not
opened until 1946 and it operated out of a converted cinema
theatre. After the tribulations of the 1950s, when the local
theatre’s repertoire was nothing more than a submissive
reflection of communist ideology, the early 1960s marked
the start of a period in which the theatre’s new, artistically
enterprising and non-conformist work propelled it into the
ranks of the best regional theatres (Krejča’s Theatre Behind the
Gate staged its pre-premieres here), and it held that position
throughout the rest of the period under communism. It was one
of the regional theatres that were able to provide an arena for
the work of interesting artists who, owing to the regime, were
unable to work in the bigger cities. Such figures included, in
particular, Alois Hajda, who was expelled from the Brno State
Theatre at the start of the 1970s. He brought with him to Zlín
the dramaturg Miroslav Plešák and the artist Josef Jelínek. It
was thanks to the general manager of the Zlín theatre Miloš
Slavík (1970–1986) that other artists out of favour with the
regime were able to work in Zlín during this period, at least
under pseudonyms; artists such as Ludvík Kundera and Josef
Topol. During these years Milan Lukeš tried out his first drama
translations and Evald Schorm directed productions at the
theatre. After Hajda arrived in Zlín, other “disgraced” directors
also followed him there: Miroslav Hynšt (1982–1989) and Ivan
Balaďa (1983–1985)
¿Zlín City Theater, 1967 > Photo archives
After 1989 the development of Zlín theatre took the same
course as that which other regional theatres went or are still going
through, with alternating strong and weak periods. Immediately
after November 1989 there was a change in management and
the theatre was renamed: the Working People’s Theatre in
Gottwaldov became Zlín City Theatre (Městské divadlo Zlín;
the city also returned to its pre-war name). Today the theatre
runs three stages: the thousand-seat large hall, Studio Z (Studio
Z) and the Little Club Theatre (Divadélko v Klubu). Both of the
studio spaces are used more ad hoc, although the new director,
Dodo Gombár, has just worked out a special drama programme
9.7.2008 17:15:05
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for Studio Z. At first glance it would seem that the massive Zlín
hall (the large building Zlín theatre occupies was opened in
1967 and is one of the youngest and largest theatre buildings
in the country) must have no difficulty selling out, because not
only is Zlín a centre of culture but it is also home to a number of
universities and secondary schools. Nevertheless, it is not easy
to balance quality dramaturgy capable of maintaining appeal
over a longer period of time and simultaneously occasionally
trying out new and innovative productions. The region of
Southern Moravia, however, is somewhat unusual: just a few
kilometres away from Zlín there is another relatively large
theatre – Slovácko Theatre in Uherské Hradiště. This means that
both theatres have a certain amount of nearby competition. But
in recent years this fact seems to have had a positive effect as
a kind of stimulus. For example, J. A. Pitínský alternates at both
theatres. Zlín theatre hosts two festivals: an autumn review of
its own productions and the international Setkání – Stretnutie
Theatre Festival.
In the period since the revolution in 1989 the Zlín theatre has
essentially remained stable and has managed to avoid major
conflicts with the body that operates it, though changes to
theatre management have not always gone smoothly. In 1998 the
general manager Ivan Kalina was replaced with Antonín Sobek,
and the year before that the artistic director Josef Morávek left,
who had been with the theatre for five years. Towards the end
of Morávek's era, from around 1995 until at least the end of
the century, when the company was headed by the director Petr
Veselý, Zlín theatre entered a bolder era, mainly in connection
with productions staged by the director J. A. Pitínský (Eight and
a Half / Osm a půl; Jenůfa / Její pastorkyňa; Dialogues of the
Carmelites / Dialogy karmelitek; The Trial – O Splendid Zlín /
Proces – Ó božský Zlíne; Thirteen Songs / Třináct písní). In 1999,
for example, a production of Júdit directed by Věra Herajtová
was staged, in which Helena Čermáková’s incarnation of the
title role won her a Thalia Award.
After Petr Veselý’s resignation in 2000, the Slovak director
Silvester Lavrík was appointed the theatre’s new general
manager, and he brought with him the dramaturg Karol
Horváth. Under Lavrík the theatre went through what was
clearly its artistically weakest period since 1989. His ideas for
the theatre lacked any conceptual depth and his production
style superficially and pointlessly replicated a model of postmodern poetics. The production that was supposed to be the
new management’s calling card was Cyrano de Bergerac. Lavrík
¿Reza de Wet, Three Sisters II / Městské divadlo Zlín, 2002 / Directed
by Petr Štindl / Set design and costumes Kamila Polívková > Photo archives
1. Molière, Don Juan / Městské divadlo Zlín, 2002 / Directed by
Karol Horváth / Set design and costumes Michaela Hořejší > Photo archives
2. Friedrich Dürrenmatt, Frank V. / Městské divadlo Zlín, 2005
Directed by Pavel Šimák / Set design Jaroslav Milfajt
Costumes Hana Kubešová
> Photo archives
3. J. W. Goethe, Faust / Městské divadlo Zlín, 2007 / Directed by
Dodo Gombár / Set design Pavel Borák / Costumes Kamila Polívková
> Photo archives
4. William Shakespeare, King Lear / Městské divadlo Zlín, 2007
Directed by Pavel Šimák / Set design Jaroslav Čermák / Costumes Michaela
Hořejší > Photo archives
5. Jaroslav Vrchlický, Zděněk Fibich, The Death of Hippodamia
Městské divadlo Zlín, 2006 / Directed by J. A. Pitínský
Set design Pavel Borák / Costumes Michaela Hořejší > Photo archives
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turned the main protagonist into a Czech RAF pilot persecuted
in the 1950s in Stalinist Czechoslovakia. In this work, the
imperative of choosing a translation that agrees with the
directorial interpretation was something that the creators of this
production dismissed as a kind of wilfulness that would interfere
in the free flow of inspiration. As a result, the poetic language of
the selected translation, dating from the end of the 19th century,
drowns in the midst of the new reality of the 1950s. The creators
rearranged the timelines according to their own chronological
design, with one war (probably the Second World War) following
another, and the 1950s situated in between. Young communists
(never mind how stiffly they moved when approaching Cyrano)
are indeed a feature of communist times, but here they have
been visualised as Cadets de Gascogne. Christian’s death occurs
as he is crushed beneath a collapsed transmission tower while
working the harvest. And other productions of classic works
turned out equally muddled; for example, the production of
Don Juan directed by Karol Horváth.
But besides Lavrík and Horváth, other directors were
also staging work in Zlín, such as Zdeněk Dušek (directing
a traditionally staged but powerfully performed production of
The Cherry Orchard), Dodo Gombár, Petr Štindl, Pavel Šimák,
and an experienced director from the older generation Ivan
Balaďa. One project that drew accolades was a double bill of
Three Sisters, the original Chekhov play, performed in Studio
Z under the direction of Dodo Gombár, and its “continuation”,
Three Sisters Two, by the South African playwright Reza de
Wet, which was directed by Petr Štindl in the theatre’s large
hall. Gombár set the play’s action in an alienating framework,
reciting the stage notes aloud, which emphasised the emotion
and tragic isolation of the characters. The much-lauded Three
Sisters Two by Reza de Wet follows the fates of the Prozorov
sisters up to the years of the Bolshevik Revolution. De Wet is not
as accomplished a playwright as Chekhov, but there were many
interesting points in Štindl’s production; the breakdown of the
family, for example, was convincingly conveyed by means of
the pointless chattering of the characters. Štindl also staged the
English morality play Everyman. He communicated the play’s
theme, which touches on the basic questions of life, faith, and
death, by using methods of traditional folk theatre combined
with elements of musical drama, which made it similar in format
to a modern opera (music by Petr Hromádka). This functioned
well even in contrast with the play’s archaic and didactic form.
Another regular guest director, Pavel Šimák, took on Gogol’s The
Gamblers. This text has probably given up the best it has to offer
in other directors’ productions (for example, the memorable
interpretation by Ladislav Smoček at the Drama Club, Činoherní
klub), but its updating in this version wonderfully revived it.
Instead of players with sideburns and morning coats the director
sent a thoroughly modern, wonderfully well-matched, and
tight-knit Mafioso band onto the stage, and they easily lure the
childish and boastful swindler Ikharev into a trap.
In 2003 the dramaturg Miroslav Plešák was called in to pull
the company out of its decline, and he remained the head of
the Zlín theatre until 2007. Plešák reintroduced an adequately
balanced dramaturgy to the theatre while also emphasising the
development of the individual performers. His arrival was soon
followed by a major popular success with a solid production
of the musical Fiddler on the Roof directed by Dodo Gombár,
who inserted a subtle emotional undertone into the mosaic of
episodes from the life of a Jewish community. He constructed
the “dramatic” scenes with a feeling for detail and hyperbole,
while simultaneously meeting the demands of the musical
drama genre.
Some other successes from this period included Gombár’s
staging of The Master and Margarita and The Death of
Hippodamia (Smrt Hippodamie) directed by J. A. Pitínský. The
impressiveness of the latter lay mainly in the balance between
the musical and dramatic components. The direction was
thoroughly attentive to stylisation, the stage design made use
of the monumental quality of the Zlín stage, and the production
managed to rehabilitate modern pathos and thus naturally
revive a neglected genre. Also interesting was a revisiting of
Čapek’s play R.U.R., directed by Jiří Fréhar, and ultimately even
a visually ambitious interpretation of King Lear by Pavel Šimák
with Dušan Sitek in the main role. The theatre also put on The
War between Rosemary and Marjoram (Válka mezi rozmarýnem
a majoránkou) by František Listopad: the author directed the
play himself, and the company eventually also performed the
play in Almada, Portugal.
Plešák’s era at the theatre ended with a monumental project
encompassing both parts of Goethe’s Faust, directed by Dodo
Gombár, the incoming artistic director. This signalled the start
of a new stage in the theatre’s history. The production was
subtitled “Temptation and Redemption”, and in Štindl’s version
the temptation of Faust occurs in a public space – a café. There
were three Mephistopheles and Fausts, but this unique idea
only partly worked, and the same was true of the decision to use
cabaret poetics and anti-illusive methods in the second part. The
director was inconsistent in these areas and awkwardly returned
to a realistically descriptive construction of the situation.
Nevertheless, the production of Faust is testimony to the bold
ambitions of the theatre’s new director and the effort to explore
new paths in dramaturgy and direction.
THEATRE IN BAŤA'S CITY
9.7.2008 17:15:08
A THEATRE WITH A STIGMA (CHEB)
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A THEATRE
WITH A STIGMA
Marta Ljubková
(CHEB)
Cheb
Praha
Brno
T
here is perhaps no other theatre in the Czech Lands that
had such a turbulent modern history as the theatre in
Cheb. That history is closely tied to the Sudeten region,
where this, “the westernmost theatre in the Czech lands”, is
located.
German-language theatre in the Cheb region dates back to
the 15th century. According to records in local archives, The
Play of Cheb (Hra chebská) was first performed here in 1442.
To date, 8312 verses of the play have survived, and on an
international scale it is a truly unique work; the play took three
days to perform. Other reports date from the last third of the 18th
century, when what may have been the first professional actors
to appear here took the stage in the Council Hall in Cheb. From
that time on, thought was given to establishing a permanent
theatre hall in Cheb, which at the time was primarily a Germanspeaking town. The gala opening of the Town Theatre of Cheb
took place 3 October 1874. The theatre’s inaugural performances
were two parts of Schiller’s Wallenstein trilogy, Wallenstein’s
Camp and Wallenstein’s Death (these plays, which are about
Albrecht von Wallenstein, who was murdered in Cheb in 1634,
have continued to reappear in the theatre’s repertoire up to the
present). This stagione was mainly intended for the majority
German community in Cheb. The first Czech drama group to
perform in Cheb was called “The Czech Club” (Česká beseda,
1881-1897), which aspired to “elevate the general level of
education and life of society”. Once Czechoslovakia was founded
as an independent republic the size of the Czech-speaking
population in Cheb grew substantially (but even in the 1930s it
was never more than 10%), and in 1926 Budil, a Czech amateur
¿West Czech Theatre Cheb, 1874 > Photo archives
theatre group, was founded. After the Second World War this
stage served as a stagione for the theatre in Karlovy Vary. In
1955, when the population in the region was almost entirely
Czech (the German population was transferred out of the Czech
borderlands at the end of the Second World War), reconstruction
began on the original Neoclassical theatre building, and it
reopened five years later, initially as Cheb Regional Theatre,
and later renamed the Border Guard Theatre.
A permanent professional company was established in Cheb
in 1961, and its founding head was the director and actor Karel
Novák. While with the company, he created many remarkable
productions and characters, but, above all he succeeded in
9.7.2008 17:15:08
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existence of a professional dramatic body in the Cheb region
was to prove its vitality. In 1992 the town of Cheb became the
operator of the West Czech Theatre (Západočeské divadlo). At
that time, the theatre’s general manager was the former Cheb
actor and director František Hromada.
An important chapter at the turn of the millennium was when
a puppet company was performing for a period at the theatre.
In the 1991–1992 season, several graduates of the puppetry
department at the Theatre Faculty of the Academy of Performing
Arts (DAMU) in Prague, Marek Bečka, Radek Beran and Vít
Brukner, founded a company called Buns and Puppets (Buchty
a loutky); in 1994 they moved to Prague. Since then they have
performed more than 18 works for children and 16 premieres for
adults; they have also created many individual projects in the field
of alternative theatre and even in film. This company continues
to occupy a unique position among Czech puppetry companies,
both for the originality of its poetics, and for the independence
of its activities. A company called Threads (Nitě) was briefly
engaged at the theatre, followed by a company called Mash and
Sausage (Kaše a párek), whose era lasted from the 1998–1999
season until 2001, and who focused on puppetry for children and
adults. The company’s founding members were Jana Horčičková,
Rostislav Studénka, Claudia Eftimiadisová, and Rostislav Novák,
but it also involved directors and actors from the theatre.
At the start of the new millennium Miloš Růžička became
the theatre’s general manager. During his first years in this
function, the director Věra Herajtová (2001–2005) worked with
the company as its artistic director, and it was during her era
that the theatre began to regain its good reputation among Czech
critics. A dancer and choreographer, Herajtová brought to the
Cheb theatre a strong artistic and especially movement-related
stylisation; her dramaturgy was founded on both an interpretation
of the classics and plays with a Christian dimension. In Cheb she
strove to create highly artistic productions, but unfortunately
they resonated more among professional critics than the local
lay public. In 2002 the actress Radmila Urbanová won the Best
building a theatre company of high quality. He remained in
charge of the company until 1970, when he was dismissed for
political reasons. Along with him the director Karel Nováček
and the dramaturg Jiří Holeček were also dismissed.
It is a several-hour train ride from Prague to get to the theatre
in Cheb. It is located in an area that has undergone drastic
historical changes, the demographic scars of which can still be
seen. During the normalisation period the theatre was truly like
“the back of beyond” – a place to which “inconvenient” artists
could be shuttled off. In the 1970s the dramaturgs Miloslav
Klíma and Zdeněk Hedbávný worked in Cheb, as did the actors
Vlasta Chramostová and František Husák, and especially the
great directors Miloš Horanský and Jan Grossman. Between
1974 and 1979 the latter directed, for example, his adaptation of
Hašek’s Schweik (Švejk), Shakespeare’s King Lear, Chekhov’s The
Seagull and The Cherry Orchard, and E. A. Longen’s A Trip on the
Steamboat Lanna from Prague to Bratislava in 365 Days (Cesta
na parníku Lanna z Prahy do Bratislava za 365 dní).
The arrival of a new era, free of ideological constraints, also
marked the start of a period in the theatre’s existence when the
½William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet / Západočeské divadlo Cheb,
2007 / Directed by Zdeněk Bartoš / Set design and costumes Marek Cpin
> Photo Michal Mráka
1. John Pielmeier, Agnus dei / Západočeské divadlo Cheb, 2003 / Directed
by Věra Herajtová / Set design and costumes Jan Vlas > Photo Jan Dvořák
2. Caryl Churchill, Top Girls / Západočeské divadlo Cheb, 2007
Directed by Marián Amsler / Set design Andrej Ďurik / Costumes Martyna
Dworakowska > Photo Michal Mráka
3. William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice / Západočeské
divadlo Cheb, 2006 / Directed by Zdeněk Bartoš / Set design and costumes
Dragan Stojčevskij > Photo Michal Mráka
4. Václav Havel, The Conspirators / Západočeské divadlo Cheb, 2008
Directed by Filip Nuckolls / Set design and costumes Pavel Kodera
> Photo Michal Mráka
5. Martin McDonagh, The Cripple of Inishmaan / Západočeské divadlo
Cheb, 2006 / Directed by Zdeněk Bartoš / Set design and costumes Ľubica
Melcerová > Photo Michal Mráka
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THEATRE IN
SOUTHERN MORAVIA
9.7.2008 17:15:09
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Rostislav Křivánek, Ruth / Západočeské divadlo Cheb, 2000 / Directed by Věra Herajtová / Set design Jan Štěpánek / Costumes Jana Preková
> Photo Karel Kubín
Actress Award for her role as Ruth in a production of a play
of the same name (Rút), written by Rostislav Křivánek and
directed by Herajtová. In 2003 the Best Actress Award was won
by all three actresses – Jarmila Vlčková, Eva Navrátilová, and
Sylvie Krupanská – in the production of J. Pilmeier’s Agnus Dei,
also directed by Herajtová, and the production won the Award
for Outstanding Artistic Achievement.
The theatre embarked on another new era in January 2006.
The young director Zdeněk Bartoš was appointed the theatre’s
artistic director and from the outset has bet on a combined
programme of less well-known titles, Czech premieres, and
a reliable classic (The Cripple of Inishmaan, Top Girls, Dream
Girl, Shoot the Crow, Conspirators/Spiklenci, Cyanide at Five/
Kyanid o páté, Romeo and Juliet). Bartoš reintroduced a wideranging dramaturgy, but in each production he strives to
achieve an innovative or at least novel look, applying a new
take to classics, and daring to invite in bold new directors just
starting out or from the younger generation (e.g. Filip Nuckolls,
Jan Jirků, Marian Amsler). Following the brief decline the
theatre went into during its interlude between artistic directors,
it has now begun to thrive again: it tours to Prague and abroad,
organises a unique showcase of monodrama performances in
the Czech Republic (The Biennial of One-Actor Theatre), and
stages fairytales for German children and even productions with
German subtitles. In addition to managing eight premieres in
one season (two to three of which on the restored chamber stage
of Studio D), it also, for example, presents stage readings of texts
not yet performed (e.g. a new work by Michal Jakl called The
Button/Tlačítko) or musical soirées, and it takes an active part
generally in the cultural life of the region. The theatre currently
engages sixteen actors, mostly from the younger generation,
and in 2007 one of them, Vladimíra Vítová, was nominated for
a Thalia Award for her performance as Portia in the Merchant of
Venice (directed by Zdeněk Bartoš).
A THEATRE
WITH A STIGMA
(CHEB)
9.7.2008 17:15:10
½Total Eclipse / Národní
divadlo v Brně 2005
Choreography and directed by
Libor Vaculík / Music Fryderyk
Chopin, Arnold Schönberg
Set design Jan Dušek / Costumes
Roman Šolc > Photo archives
A SURVEY OF
CZECH BALLET
between 2005 and 2007
Roman Vašek
053-064_Balet_3k.indd 53
9.7.2008 17:15:54
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A SURVEY OF CZECH BALLET BETWEEN 2005 AND 2007
As indicated by the title, this article focuses on Czech ballet, or more accurately, on matters relating to Czech ballet
companies. The very diverse Czech independent dance sector is therefore deliberately left aside here. This is not
meant to imply that there is some kind of insurmountable wall separating ballet from independent modern dance;
luckily, the remains of any such barriers are constantly being torn away. However, ballet characteristically involves
a relatively closed circle of artists, has a different network of companies, a different audience, and the “life cycle”
of the ballet season differs significantly from that of independent productions.
¿Coppélia / Divadlo F. X. Šaldy, Liberec 2006 / Choreography and directed by Kateřina Dedková / Music Léo Delibes / Set design and costumes
Jiří Jelínek > Photo archives
Some statistics to begin with
The Czech Republic currently has five dance conservatories
(two of which are private), and they produce roughly fifty-five
graduates each year. Around forty positions for new dancers in
Czech ballet companies open up each year, and usually about
ten times as many dancers apply to fill those positions. There
are eleven companies that regularly stage ballet productions,
including the ballet company that is attached to the opera in
Opava, and a Prague company that is a part of the essentially
multimedia theatre Laterna Magika. Together these companies
have a total of about 350 dancers (which is a significant decrease
compared to the figures around twenty or thirty years ago). Today
almost all of the dancers possess adequate qualifications (95%
are graduates of Czech dance conservatories or similar schools
abroad). Approximately one quarter of the dancers come from
outside the Czech Republic, mostly from Slovakia, Russia, or
Ukraine. As in other countries, there is a trend towards younger
and younger dancers in the Czech ballet scene. The average age
of dancers is now between 25 and 30, which is approximately
five years younger than in the 1970s or 1980s. These are just
a sample of figures drawn from a complex study of Czech ballet
that was carried out at the end of 2007.
At the start of the 21st century several important new
changes were made in the top posts in the Czech ballet scene
(more in “How They Ballet in Bohemia”, Czech Theatre 21).
In the past three years (2005-2007) no truly similar shake-up
has taken place, and only one change occurred: in the spring
of 2007 Zdeněk Prokeš, choreographer and earlier also head of
the ballet, was dismissed from the management of the multicompany National Theatre in Brno (Národní divadlo Brno). With
the arrival of the new director Daniel Dvořák (who six months
earlier had been dismissed from the position of director of the
National Theatre in Prague), the management of the Brno ballet
company also changed. The choreographer Lenka Dřímalová
replaced Karel Littera as artistic director.
On average each Czech ballet company prepares two
premieres a year. But where is Czech ballet dramaturgy headed?
And what is the quality of the productions and, by extension
also, the interpretations like?
Ballet outside the big cities
Several of the smaller regional theatres are in a state of inertia.
This is true of both the ballet company in Ústí nad Labem and
the company in Olomouc. However, there are exceptions. The
independent ballet company in Liberec is increasingly finding
itself in a situation that could best be described as bordering
on survival. The size of the company has shrunk to fewer than
9.7.2008 17:15:54
fifteen members, which makes it almost impossible for it to
prepare a workable ballet repertoire. When in recent months
this number fell further, owing to illness and the unexpected
departure of some members, it was not just repeat performances
that had to be cancelled but even one planned premiere.
Liberec has for years been wrestling with the problem of
its poor-quality productions, but there was one exception in
/55
the best group performance in a competition of Czech ballet
productions. The company also confirmed its reputation in the
production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Zvoník u Matky
Boží, better known as Esmeralda) by the composer César
Pugni (premiere on 26 January 2007). This was evidently Jiří
Horák’s best staging. He succeeded in faithfully relating the
piece’s intricate plot, interestingly developed its key scenes,
¿¾The Hunchback of Notre Dame / Jihočeské divadlo, České Budějovice
2007 / Choreography and directed by Jiří Horák / Music Cesare Pugni
Set design Tomáš Kypta / Costumes Samiha Malehová > Photo archives
the period under review – its production of Delibes’ Coppélia
(premiere on 19 May 2006). One of the reasons why this was
an exceptional production is that it was the first time that the
Liberec orchestra had performed in many years, but the main
reason it stood out was the contribution to the production by
the director and choreographer Kateřina Franková-Dedková,
formerly, and for many years, a soloist with the Prague
Chamber Ballet. Liberec’s Coppélia represented her debut as
choreographer of an entire performance, but it ranked as one
of the best performances to emerge in 2006 among the smaller
ballet companies. And yet little was required to achieve this.
The route Kateřina Franková-Dedková took was certainly not
experimental. Instead she set out from a traditional foundation,
giving detailed thought to and elaborating individual situations,
wittingly underscoring them, and for the main characters she
was able to come up with characteristic movements.
The ballet company in České Budějovice, the second-smallest
in the country, has also had to cope with a shortage of dancers
and financial difficulties. However, it has nonetheless had
surprisingly good results under the direction of Libuše Králová.
The most recent premieres showed that the ballet of the South
Bohemian Theatre (Jihočeské divadlo) can bravely hold its
own with many of the larger and more prominent companies;
three years ago it even proved itself with a pleasant production
of Futile Precautions (Marná opatrnost), perfectly adapted to
the company’s conditions, for which it also won the prize for
and invested them with the requisite dramatic energy. Even in
the pure dance numbers, especially those with the corps, he
adopted an elaborate choreographic structure with numerous
original features. The performance of the dancers as a whole
played a major role in the success of the performance, as they
gave their absolute maximum (it is impossible to overlook the
limits of the variously talented dancers, nor though the effort to
take them as far as they can possibly go through patient work).
The Pilsen-based company headed by Jiří Pokorný attempts
to create at least partly original dramaturgy. The company has
a special tradition: it was often the first professional engagement
for great dancers, who from there went on to dance on the
9.7.2008 17:15:56
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big stages, including the Prague National Theatre (Národní
divadlo). The ensemble has retained its strong interpretative
skills. Its current star is Ivona Jeličová, who a year ago took to
the stage of the National Theatre in a junior competition and
took away the Philip Morris Ballet Flower Award. Twice she has
made it among the final nominees for a Thalia Award, and it
would be no surprise if she were to be a contender again for her
outstanding interpretation of Swanilda in Coppélia.
The production quality of the Pilsen performances tends
to lag behind their interpretative quality and is somewhat
mediocre. One of the more interesting works put on is The
Garden (Zahrada), a successful performance of which formed
part of the Divadlo 2007 international festival. This new ballet
was inspired by the work of Jiří Trnka, an illustrator, and the
creator of several famous puppet films. Original music for the
production was composed by Zbyněk Matějů, who regularly
composes music for the ballet and modern dance scene (for
example, Golem for the Prague Chamber Ballet in 2001, or
Ibbur, which in 2005 was staged at the National Theatre in
Prague). Matějů also takes the child viewer into consideration.
His music for The Garden is uncomplicated, artfully weaving
together well-arranged leitmotifs. The driving principle in the
production was not so much Alena Pešková’s choreography but
above all the elected technique of black-light theatre, directed
by Jiří Středa, and with a fancy set by Pavel Kalfus.
Two very different but equally unproductive directions could
be observed in recent years at the National Moravian-Silesian
Theatre (Národní divadlo moravskoslezské) in Ostrava. The first
was the introduction of modern dance shows that often lacked
a clear concept (usually choreographed by Igor Vejsada). The
second, conversely, was the staging of traditional works created
using the very outdated choreographic idiom of the Slovak Jozef
Sabovčík (Masquerade, Anna Karenina, Spartacus, Othello).
However, Ostrava’s repertoire has recently been upgraded with
the addition of some new and interesting pieces (Purim: The
Casting of Fate, Purim aneb Volba osudu, after William Fomin’s
choreography), or by means of a novel take on a classic. An
attempt at a new approach to a traditional work came with the
production of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet (premiere on 10
March 2007). On this occasion the choreographer Igor Vejsada
joined forces with the director Michael Tarant, who previously
had worked only in drama and opera productions. Tarant
attempted an original interpretation, the sources of which he
sought not just in Prokofiev’s work but also in Shakespeare’s
play, and he devoted more attention than is customary to the
psychology of the main characters, at key moments etching out
parallel themes and connections and elaborating them further.
The scene of the Capulets’ ball, for example, unfolds on various
planes at once: while the traditional scene in which the title
characters experience their first charmed encounter takes place
in the foreground, the marital quarrel of the Capulets plays out in
the background. Simultaneously the direction traces the contours
¿Garden / Divadlo J. K. Tyla, Plzeň 2006 / Choreography Alena Pešková / Directed by Jiří Středa / Music Zbyněk Matějů / Set design and costumes Pavel
Kalfus > Photo archives
A SURVEY OF
CZECH BALLET
9.7.2008 17:15:57
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À¾Solo for Three / Národní divadlo, Praha 2007 / Choreography and
directed by Petr Zuska / Music Jacques Brel, Vladimir Vysotsky, Karel Kryl
Set design Jan Dušek / Costumes Lucie Loosová tři > Photo Pavel Hejný
of a “special friendship” between Mrs. Capulet and Tybalt, thus
accentuating a theme of something rotten within the esteemed
Capulet family. The highlighted character of the Capulet mother
plays on even after Tybalt is killed, when Paris becomes the new
object of her attentions. Moreover, the relationship between the
Capulet spouses exhibits a certain parallel with Juliet’s forced
wedding with Paris. Everything suggests that Juliet’s mother
was also once forced into marrying an older man.
Michael Tarant works with a symbolism that even makes
use of the stage. In the moment when the young lovers’ passion
explodes, the revolving floor begins to move, as though the
characters are losing the ground beneath their feet; during the
balcony scene, when Prokofiev’s music begins to soar, the raked
stage is even transformed into the impression of a balcony.
Despite the director’s unique interpretation, which breathed
some fresh air into Czech productions of ballet classics, it is
impossible to overlook some surprising errors. The already
hectic conclusion of Prokofiev’s work becomes in Tarant’s
staging an abridged sequence of barely believable coincidences.
Even the introductory portraits, in which it is difficult to identify
the main protagonists, dissolve into chaos.
Prague thrice over
While Prague is a real metropolis when it comes to modern
dance (compared to the rest of the country, the vast majority of
important premieres take place in Prague), this is by no means
true of ballet. This is partly owing to the dense network of ballet
companies that has evolved over time (roughly one company per
one million inhabitants), but is also the result of the established
dance traditions that exist in some other towns (Brno, Pilsen,
Ostrava). However, in terms of numbers, Prague plays first
fiddle – it has three permanent ballet companies: at the National
Theatre, the State Opera (Státní opera), and Laterna Magika.
During the three years in which the scene was monitored
Laterna Magika was the company that underwent the biggest
transformation. Once the pride of Czech dance and an exclusive
export article this dance company has ever more obviously
begun to run out of steam. In recent years it has premiered two
new co-productions (The Argonauts, Argonauti, and Rendezvous), but they fell miles short of the company’s former dramatic
energy and innovativeness. Laterna Magika has long ceased
to be an example of inventiveness in the sphere of dramatic
technique and stage design and has instead become more of
a modern dance theatre. However, the past two premieres did
not even offer anything new in terms of dancing. And this is
one more explanation for the decline in attendance and for
the company’s difficult financial situation. And it is one of the
reasons that there are ongoing discussions about the future of
Laterna Magika, which may be placed back under the thumb of
the neighbouring National Theatre.
However, the dance company of the State Opera has
staked out a solid position for itself on the Prague ballet map.
Originally, this arrangement was about finding a stable home
for the Prague Chamber Ballet and nestling it under the wings
of a stable institution. Today it is obvious that this security was
gained at the price of the demise of the Prague Chamber Ballet,
9.7.2008 17:15:57
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½¿¾Unspoken Silence / Národní divadlo, Praha 2007 / Choreography
Tomáš Rychetský / Music Leoš Janáček / Set design Milan Cais / Costumes
Roman Šolc / Light design Daniel Tesař > Photo Roman Sejkot
formerly a unique phenomenon within the Eastern bloc. This
modern company, the existence of which was unusual for the
normalisation period, and whose form has been in the hands of
Pavel Šmok since 1975, was the only functioning alternative to
the ballets housed within the fixed stone walls of the established
theatres. The State Opera’s current ballet company builds on
a more or less traditional repertoire, typical of a large opera
house. Performances of Cinderella, A Midsummer Night’s
Dream, and Swan Lake alternate regularly and in between
them relatively moderate experimental works are performed,
such as Time of Pain by the choreographer Bronislav Roznos or
a unique production of Smetana’s My Country (Má vlast) by the
choreographer Ján Ďurovčík.
The Prague State Opera originally wanted Jiří Kylián to stage
this iconic piece of Czech national music. When he refused, the
offer was accepted by the Slovák Jan Ďurovčík, who is known for
his provocative experimental works. He conceived My Homeland
as scenes from the history of the Czech nation (premiere on 8
December 2005). The biggest difficulty with putting Smetana’s
work on the stage is the diversity of the individual symphonic
poems, which range from the abstract and the symbolic through
to distinctly epic parts. An idea of the Smetana programme can
be drawn from its parts: Vyšehrad, which Ďurovčík interpreted
as the birth, pride, and fall of a nation, Vltava, which when
rendered in dance is likened to the human circulation system, and
perhaps even From the Bohemian Meadows and Forests, which
Ďurovčík interpreted as a child’s naive view of the immediate
family and landscape. He transported Šárka, Tábor and Blaník
into the 20th century. Šárka was framed within motifs of Nazi
persecution during the Second World War and the expulsion of
the Germans from Czechoslovakia at the end of the war. Tábor
alluded to the “normalisation period”, when the political regime
9.7.2008 17:15:58
tightened its grip on the population after the invasion of Warsaw
Pact troops in 1968; this part featured a mechanical marching
dance, rimmed in the background by the impression of an
impersonal pre-fabricated tenement building and illuminated
by stark, flickering, fluorescent lights. In Blaník Ďurovčík
intensified the features of normalisation-era bleakness, finally
moving on towards the catharsis of freedom regained in 1989.
Ďurovčík’s bold attempt at creating a great nationally oriented
“political canvas” is exceptional in contemporary Czech ballet.
Although the result was controversial (owing to the need to deal
with the variations in Smetana’s composition, which in places
resists being transplanted onto the stage), it was a remarkable
production.
The ballet of the State Opera has seen an improvement in
quality in recent years and is one of the few companies in the
country also to have grown in size. The reason is the distinct
policy of the company’s artistic director, Pavel Ďumbala,
/59
wherein only one-third of the dancers are employed on standard
work contracts, while the others are employed on other forms of
agreement (these dancers are self-employed).
The ballet of the National Theatre has been headed since
2002 by the choreographer Petr Zuska. After his arrival the
company changed and became more universal, but also slightly
smaller. Top foreign works of choreography were added to the
repertoire, such as classics by John Cranko, and newer, shorter
works by Conny Janssen, Jiří Kylián, and Nach Duat. But the
face of the company is the director himself, who prepares
roughly one new premiere each season. In the past five years the
dancers have absorbed his signature style of movement, and it is
in Zuska’s choreography that they come across as most natural
and authentic.
In 2005-2007 the National Theatre’s repertoire was
revitalised by an unusual production called Ballet Mania
(Baletománie), a fun and humorous excursion into the history
9.7.2008 17:15:59
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of world ballet. The repertoire that is aimed at children was
expanded with the addition of Goldilocks (Zlatovláska), in
which the choreographer Jan Kodet was given (but did not
make much of) his biggest opportunity yet at the National
Theatre. The best part of Goldilocks, which was based on the
traditional Czech version of this fairytale, was the music, by
one of the foremost Czech composers, Vladimír Franz. The
company even continued to perform foreign works (more
recently Onegin by John Cranko, and Romeo and Juliet by the
choreographer Youri Vámos).
Petr Zuska’s success fluctuated more. The dance rendition
of Requiem to the music of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and
Richard Rentsch was not very good and even Ibbur, or a Prague
Mystery, based on the motifs of Meyrink’s Golem, was somewhat
awkward. On the other hand, Zuska’s premiere of Solo for Three
(Sólo pro tři, premiere on 19 May 2007) was very positively
received. In just under a respectable three hours Zuska brought
together songs by three authors, Jacques Brel, Vladimir
Vysotsky, and Karel Kryl — united by the theme of the figure
of the anguished guitar-playing poet–songster. Incidentally,
this was an exceptional opportunity for the two alternating
performers. While the Russian dancer Alexandr Katsapov’s
successful immersion in the psychologically complex role was
expected, Michal Štípa, known mainly for his roles as danseur
noble, made an unexpected artistic leap forward in this role.
Solo for Three has no clear dramatic curve, its mood alters
to enclose the protagonist within himself, and in that way it is
more typical of Zuska. The lack of any clear dramaturgical curve
is compensated by the very sensitive choreographic approach to
each individual dance piece. Zuska managed to balance on the
edge between an overly literal illustration of the songs and an
incomprehensibly abstract interpretation. So if the production as
a whole proves incapable of greater longevity, many of its final
pieces would be welcome additions to a mixed programme.
The ballet of the National Theatre made an auspicious
start to the 2007-2008 season. Its first premiere consisted of
a mixed programme performed under the collective title Czech
Ballet Symphony (Česká baletní symfonie, premiere on 20
September 2007). Its individual pieces were works by four Czech
choreographers: Jiří Kylián (a revival of Simfonietta), the first
repertory work by the young choreographer Zuzana Šimáková
(6 Halves of a Human), a work by Petr Zuska (D. M. J. 1953–1977)
and a piece by Tomáš Rychetský (Unspoken Silence). (For more
on Zuska’s D. M. J. 1953–1977, which had its world premiere in
Brno three years ago, see Czech Theatre 21. By way of note, this
was one of Zuska’s best works, which may have been even more
powerful a performance in the slightly modified version prepared
for the National Theatre in Prague. In a national competition the
Brno premiere of this work in 2005 was declared without rival the
best ballet production of the past three years.
Tomáš Rychetský established himself early on, when he
was a choreographer in the Prague ballet scene. In a mixed
¿Total Eclipse / Národní divadlo v Brně, 2005 / Choreography and directed by Libor Vaculík / Music Fryderyk Chopin, Arnold Schönberg
Set design Jan Dušek / Costumes Roman Šolc > Photo archives
with the tone of each individual song, but in the end an unhappy
and almost gloomy atmosphere prevails. The production is
divided into two parts, each defined with a distinct scenographic
concept. The first part is physically dominated by a massive
table, from where the main protagonist addresses the crowds. In
the second part the table has shrunk to normal dimensions, and
a chair and a screen have been added. The actual space seems
programme, his Unspoken Silence (Nevyřčené ticho) spoke
in the most modern of tongues and featured a distinct and
creative stylisation that this time shifted the dance (more
minimalistic in its impression) into the background. It is only
possible to obtain an intimation of the content of this abstract
work, which evidently centres on the death of a loved one
and a journey beyond life in search of that person. The set, by
9.7.2008 17:15:59
/61
A SURVEY OF
CZECH BALLET
ballet premieres recently have born his fingerprints), cuts clear
white spaces out of the black set, in which the figures came
across like formless shadows. As soon as the woman has made
up her mind, the bed and the wall behind it turn blood red.
Rychetský’s work, like the work of Petr Zuska, has increasingly
been making use of a scenographic segmentation of space. The
stage, and especially the inventive light designs, have not just
become an integral part of any dance production but are often
one of the main sources of inspiration for the choreography.
The happy Brno years
¿Rite of Spring / Národní divadlo v Brně, 2006 / Choreography
and directed by Libor Vaculík / Music Igor Stravinsky / Set design
Vladimír Soukenka / Costumes Roman Šolc > Photo archives
Milan Cais, staked out two separate spaces in a square layout.
A geometrically precise girls’ duet is danced in the background
beside a kind of wave and after the rotation of a swing, while in
the foreground, around a well-lit bed, a woman gradually tries
to gather her resolve to commit suicide. The light, by the artist
Daniel Tesař (incidentally, a number of progressive dance and
This survey of Bohemian and Moravian ballet companies
deliberately winds up in Brno this time, because during the
period under review that is where the most important ballet
premieres took place. Even within Brno’s multi-company
National Theatre (Národní divadlo v Brně) the ballet’s
activities overshadowed those of the theatre’s drama and opera
components. It may be no accident that the Brno National
Theatre was the only theatre in the country whose director was
formerly a dancer and choreographer, namely, Zdeněk Prokeš.
In recent years it seemed that Libor Vaculík had given himself
over fully to making lucrative but artistically questionable
musical productions, but then he worked on two pieces for the
Brno theatre and both were a great success: Total Eclipse (Úplné
zatmění) and Rite of Spring.
9.7.2008 17:16:02
62/
¿Ballads / Národní divadlo v Brně, 2006 / Choreography Hana Litterová
Music Zuzana Lapčíková / Set design and costumes Pavel Knolle
> Photo archives
The material for Total Eclipse (premiere on 11 November 2005)
was the twenty-year-old play by Christopher Hampton about
the complicated relationship between the cursed poets Arthur
Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine. Vaculík, like in some of his previous
productions, experimented with combining genres. While
before, his work his balanced on the edge of musical and dance
theatre (Edith – Suburban Sparrow / Edith – vrabčák z předměstí;
Lucrezia Borgia), this time he combined the devices of dance and
stage drama. Again he duplicated the main characters so that
each role is performed by a dancer and an actor. Not only did
this result in rapid and surprising cuts in the action and graceful
transfigurations that could be used to advantage on the stage, but
it also gave support to the narrative at points where he did not
find the dance to be communicative enough. The use of speech
also allowed him to introduce quotations from Rimbaud’s poetry.
Vaculík forcefully narrates the story through dance, and he is
not even afraid of acting out the more naturalistic, intimate (the
love scenes between Rimbaud and Verlaine) or violent (Verlaine
beating his wife) scenes. He skilfully prods the viewer’s fantasy
with suggestiveness, and then in a sharp cut moves rapidly into
the next scene. Perhaps the only pity is that the purely un-epic
dance pieces are unfortunately overshadowed by the demands
of narrative. The backbones of the performance are the duets
of the two men, where the story takes a fateful turn. Verlaine,
played by Alexandr Katsapov (guest performer with the National
Theatre in Prague), is a respected and enterprising poet, while
the slightly younger Jan Fousek as Rimbaud is a carefree tempter
and a devil with an angelic face. The production benefits greatly
from the counterpoint use of Frédéric Chopin’s sweet nocturnes
and the far less gentle music of Arnold Schönberg, and it thrives
in the just reconstructed intimate space of the Reduta stage,
which has become a platform for new works and experimental
productions by the Brno National Theatre.
The second of Vaculík’s noteworthy productions was Rite
of Spring (premiere on 13 April 2006), which won the Theatre
News Prize (Cena Divadelních novin) for the best dance or ballet
performance in the 2005-2006 season. Vaculík, in cooperation
with Zdeněk Prokeš, reworked the libretto and transported the
story into the period of the holocaust. They turned Stravinsky’s
pagan ritual into a relationship between two young Jews sent
to a concentration camp, where they try to ignite a flicker of
happiness or hope. At the camp, which is headed by a figure
personifying Death, the male protagonist is in the end sent to
the gas chamber.
The good choreography bears Vaculík’s obvious fingerprints
and is accompanied by a very individual concept, but it is no
longer surprising. However, the strength of it lies in Vaculík’s
dramaturgical and directorial adaptation. Following a somewhat
puzzling introduction the production swells towards its first
strong climax in the scene where the Jews are being deported:
out of the floor trap there emerges a massive transport wagon and
the frightened Jews are squeezed into it. Their faces are pressed
up against several small windows, while on the roof of the wagon
the personification of Death obscenely dances his first victorious
solo, excellently interpreted by the very young Jan Fousek (he
won the prestigious Thalia Award for his performance in this
9.7.2008 17:16:03
/63
¿Ballads / Národní divadlo v Brně, 2006 / Choreography Hana Litterová / Music Zuzana Lapčíková / Set design and costumes Pavel Knolle > Photo archives
role). Some of the scenes from the camp are also impossible to
forget: for example, when the two young lovers meet secretly,
dodging the prowling eyes of the search lights. Equally powerful
is the extermination scene, portrayed by means of a gassy-green
light cast across naked bodies that then fade like shadows.
However, Vaculík hastens to a catharsis: a child survives,
symbolising hope, and the figure of Death is overcome after
a somewhat prolonged agony. Vaculík’s production offers an
interpretation that ranks with other important takes on Rite of
Spring. It shows, among other things, how well major shifts in
interpretation are accommodated by Stravinsky.
The year 2006 was an exceptionally successful one for the
Brno ballet. Further confirmation of this came with the premiere
of a production of Ballads (Balady, 10 November 2006), which
for the second time won the Brno ballet the Theatre News Prize
in the dance and ballet category, this time for the 2006-2007
season. Ballads was created by Hana Litterová, an artist at the
start of her career as a choreographer, and the well-known
Moravian singer and dulcimer-player Zuzana Lapčíková. It is
based on a series of songs – personal renditions of Moravian
folksongs. This simple, tragic story of love and betrayal
grows in intensity over the course of the performance as the
choreographer lets go of superfluous balletic stylisation and
moves into a natural and in places almost expressive dance
form. Hana Litterová creates inventive dance compositions, but
she also works with directorial shortcuts and has a feeling for
tempo (employing pauses or barely discernible movements).
The characters, dominated by the mother figure Juliana, are
very clearly defined. The role of Juliana – who quietly absorbs
the tragic fates of her close ones until she resolves to commit
murder, an act that by unfortunate coincidence has tragic
consequences for her own daughter – is turned into a concert
of dance and dramatic performance by Eva Šeneklová. For her
performance as Juliana this expressive dancer was named one
of the final nominees for a Thalia Award and won the Philip
Morris Ballet Flower Award for 2006.
New hopefuls and the
mainstays of choreography
Czech ballet has had to struggle with the disparity between
the annual number of premieres it puts on and the number of
quality artists it has. The shortage of good choreographers is
9.7.2008 17:16:03
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often solved by “sewing together new pieces with a sharp needle
and cheap thread”, by moving successful productions from
theatre to theatre, or even rotating solid choreographers of the
classics using simple standard dance arrangements. This makes
the newcomers all the more delightful.
Jiří Horák has emerged as a promising repertory choreographer. He is slightly reminiscent of his generation-older,
fellow Moravian Jiří Kyselák. Both tour the country and their
productions possess a quality that should allow them to
survive over time. However, Horák works with a youthful and
more inventive dance language. One of the more noteworthy
newcomers is Kateřina Franková-Dedková, who is able to cash
in on years of experience working in the Prague Chamber Ballet
under the direction of Pavel Šmok. In the future this could
find expression in the creation of honest and meticulously
conceived productions that will stand out for their natural dance
compositions and their humour. And finally, more and more is
being heard about the Brno choreographer Hana Litterová. Her
choreographic repertory debut four years ago with Symphonic
Fantasies (Symfonické fantazie) was reminiscent of Jiří Kylián
in his neo-classical phase. With Ballads both her professional
success and her artistic quality have advanced a notch higher.
First fiddle in the Czech ballet scene is still occupied by Libor
Vaculík and Petr Zuska. Although in recent years Vaculík has
been devoting more attention to musicals, whenever he has
¾Total Eclipse / Národní
divadlo v Brně, 2005
Choreography and directed by
Libor Vaculík / Music Fryderyk
Chopin, Arnold Schönberg
Set design Jan Dušek / Costumes
Roman Šolc > Photo archives
returned to the ballet stage he has usually brought with him not
just high choreographic standards but also often an attempt to
bite into an unusual theme. He is one of the few choreographers
who not only have the ambition to say or shout out their opinion
but are also very often successful at doing so. His mature dance
idiom has evolved into a solid form and he does not usually take
it any further than where it is. His domain now is direction and
well-thought-out dramaturgy, and his specialty is storytelling.
Petr Zuska is in this sense probably Vaculík’s opposite. While
Vaculík works well on vast epic productions, Zuska thrives when
working on more intimate and tightly conceived works that
evolve from of a single dominant idea. His dance language is
much more abstract and more remote from the classic language
of ballet. In his works the dance has an essential partner in the
stage, props, and lighting.
Zuska once followed Vaculík’s footsteps, and now it looks like
Tomáš Rychetský may be the artist who will follow in Zuska’s.
Rychetský’s dance language is even more modern to the eye than
Zuska’s, and it is even harder to separate the artistic from the dance
components of his productions. For the time being, however, he
has only been able to make a name for himself with shorter works.
Like Zuska, both Rychetský and even Jan Kodet have one foot in
the established “stone” theatres and the other in the independent
scene. It is on the border between these two spheres that Czech
ballet may find its choreographic hope of the future.
A SURVEY OF
CZECH BALLET
9.7.2008 17:16:04
Looking Back at the Prague
QUADRENNIAL
Marie Zdeňková
065-074_PQ_4k.indd 65
in 2007
9.7.2008 17:16:40
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LOOKING BACK AT THE PRAGUE QUADRENNIAL IN 2007
A
labyrinth, a vast marketplace, or a teeming Babylon – more
than ever before, this is how the Prague Quadrennial in
2007 could have best been described. The live theatrical
and artistic events, workshops, lectures, and symposia were no
longer just accompanying events and instead moved to the fore
as parts of the exhibition in their own right. The programme
events spilled out into the streets and the squares of Prague,
signalling that something in the manner of spectacle and art
was going on in Holešovice. There was absolutely no way to
take in everything that the PQ had to offer; you had to pick
and choose. Despite the buzz of the fair, the international (and
intercontinental) jury remained focused and for the most part
managed to do their job with cool and clear heads.
In an effort to encourage the curators and artists of each
country to adopt distinctive approaches to the content and form of
their exhibits, this year the organisers announced a competition
of themes, wherein each country was left to decide on the theme
of its exhibit. Viktor Beryozkin, the author of the winning exhibit
from Russia (Golden Triga), inscribed his exhibit with the words
“Our Chekhov, Twenty Years On”, in reference to the exhibit the
Soviet Union prepared two decades ago that won the gold medal
in a thematic section dedicated to the works of A. P. Chekhov.
That exhibit was called “Our Chekhov”, and it was conceived
as the “Chekhovian” veranda of a Russian country manor, with
dry branches subtly woven throughout the design. The entire
exhibit was white, with just a very slight veneer of weathering.
This setting was great for the painting-designs and the models.
Like the exhibit’s decorative trim, the designs expressed a kind
of effortless continuity and a sense of deep understanding and
communion with the playwright, and, again like the decorative
trim, many of the designs suggested an interior-exterior link – a
link between human life and nature (a similar Czech example of
this exists in a design created by the “Chekhovian” set designer
Otakar Schindler).
This year’s Chekhov, twenty years on, was not conceived in
contrast to the original, but nor was it the same. Most of the set
designers involved in the exhibit were from the older generation
of designers, some of whom took part in the PQ in 1987 or even
earlier (David Borovski, Sergei Barkhin, Mart Kitaev). The
artistic and architectural design of this year’s exhibit was created
by Dmitri Krymov, who in the exhibition catalogue describes
the atmosphere of the exhibit thus: “In Russia, it’s always cold
and raining or even snowing. Or the roof is leaky and there’s
something dripping on you – or falling; some kind of dust, for
instance. But it’s more likely to be bits of plaster. What you want
more than anything is to put on something waterproof, pull on a
pair of wellingtons, and grab an umbrella….” For visitors to this
exhibit, rubber boots and black umbrellas were available, and
the exhibit itself was a waterlogged “room”, with more water
dripping from the ceiling, leaving water-stains on it and the
three surrounding walls. Hanging from the ceiling were lamps,
fitted in old pots instead of lamp holders, illuminating the set
models from overhead, while the models themselves were
set on socles made out of various “found objects”: old books,
dishes, and damaged, upturned chairs (reminiscent of the
three-dimensional collages by Libor Fára, another Czech artist
ÀWilliam Shakespeare, The Taming of the Shrew / Studio – School at Moscow Art Theatre named after A. P. Chekhov / Design Anna Fedorova
065-074_PQ_4k.indd 66
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1
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2
3
1. Poland, national exhibition / Curator Pawel Wodziński
> Photo Martina Novozámská
2. Hong Kong s. a. r. – China, national exhibition / Curator Rosie
Lam Tung Pui - man > Photo Martina Novozámská
3. Patrik Marber, After Miss Julie / Donmar Warehouse, London 2003
Design Bunny Christie > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
4. Howard Brenton, Romans in Britannia / Scheffield Crucible, 2006
Design Ralph Koltai > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
“touched” by Chekhov). The entire exhibit came across like a
Chekhov set, but also like a work of art. The impression was one
of decline: picturesque but not fallacious, a work of artistry but
not affectation. Since 1987 that decline has progressed, but not
to the point of becoming raw and devoid of feeling. The winning
Russian exhibit was not among those that endeavoured to in
some way capture the mania of the modern world (which, for
example, the exhibits from Hong Kong, Hungary, and Poland
did). But that does not mean that it was museumish or dourly
standoffish in character; it was fresh and relaxed. The set
designs that these older-generation artists (exceptions to the
prevailing age being the three young artists Vera Martinova,
Maria Tregubova, and Alexei Kondratiev) created for modern
new productions convey a harder and more austere image of
065-074_PQ_4k.indd 67
4
9.7.2008 17:16:41
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Chekhov’s world than that presented twenty years ago, but it
is still infused with a softening flush of nostalgia. This “old”
exhibit came across as surprisingly unconstrained, like a wise
old man who makes no attempt to keep to pace, in stumbling
and laborious steps, with the superficial style of the modern age,
but who nonetheless does live in the modern world and is more
than just getting by, as he remains interesting and appealing in
his own way.
This year the organisers of the PQ encouraged participants to
focus on a theme rather than present a textbook review of “the
best of the past four years”. Decipherable in the subtext of this
wish was a licence even to exhibit something only peripherally
related to theatre. It has to be said, though, that the countries that
fared best were those that preferred a “classic” form of exhibit.
Having experienced a brief period of disdain, set models – those
cute little “doll houses” – were rehabilitated at the PQ 03 by the
winning exhibit from the UK. The condensed portrait the set
model offers may be more picturesque and more comprehensive
than the actual set design of the production as it unfolds, but
on a playful level it has the capacity to ignite the viewer’s
imagination in the same way that an eye-catching, delightfully
done-up toy lights up the imagination of a curious child. What
is interesting about the comeback of the set model is that
some of the ones that were most captivating (in addition to the
Russian ones) were models devoted to Chekhov. In the Spanish
exhibit, Jon Berrondo’s Uncle Vanya was an attention-grabber.
Set models by Jorgos Gavalas of Greece (Platonov, Three Sisters)
revealed an affinity with a “classical” approach to the set, but
still came across as fresh and interesting. The student section
also included some well-designed Chekhovian set models that
emphasise selective objectivity (Romania, Israel, Ireland). The
“queen of modellers”, Great Britain, intensified the impact of its
exhibit by including a massive, abstract spatial composition of
geometric shapes and an accentuated surface texture in a design
symbolically titled “All the World’s a Stage… and There Hangs a
Tale”, the author of which is the doyen of British scenography,
Ralph Koltai. The exhibit’s series of models, arranged in the
surrounding space, offered a diversity of styles, ranging from the
abstract (by Koltai as set designer and the playwright Howard
Breton: The Romans in Britain) to the concrete, and rounded out
by the model of a hyper-realistic kitchen with all the attributes of
a prison, created by the set designer Bunny Christie for Patrick
Marber’s play After Miss Julie. Israel was another country whose
set models had the capacity to evoke at least a basic idea of
the conception behind the production, while simultaneously
offering viewers an aesthetic experience. Theatre in Israel
has a tendency to boldly take on classical themes (Sophocles’
Antigone, by the set designer Roni Toren; Strauss’ Elektra, by
the set designer David Sharir, and so on). There was an element
of ineluctable fate present even in the set designs created for
other, modern, and more “ordinary” repertoires. In the exhibit
from the United States, the spatially commanding set models by
the Russian-born sculptor and set designer George Tsypin (A.
Laurents, S. Sondheim, L. Bernstein: West Side Story) and Paul
Steinberg (Giuseppe Verdi’s The Troubadour) were particularly
noteworthy, both of which depicted monumental technocratic
stage architecture on the shores of an Austrian lake (Bregenz
Festival). If anyone truly presented a thing of beauty at this
year’s PQ, then it was the young set designer Boris Kudlička,
who has worked on stages around the world, and especially in
opera (and winner of the gold medal for use of stage technology),
which was the focus of the entire Slovak exhibit. His massive
set models, fitted like multidimensional glass pictures into the
walls of the exhibit, were enjoyed by visitors as they listened
through headphones to music from the operas in the exhibit.
These simple but decoratively artistic realms came across as
both cool and emotional. In the set design for Tchaikovsky’s
The Queen of Spades the wings of seagulls are seen flapping
monotonously on a rear projection screen, synchronised to the
strains of romantically climactic music, which not only formed
a striking background to the vision of a tiny silhouetted figure
of a woman in modern attire, but also harmonised the emotions
of the production.
In the Lithuanian exhibit there were painting-designs,
which stood out as a rarity at this PQ. The naivistic world of
the set designer Galius Klicius (Juozas Erlickas: A History of
Lithuania), a kind of folk Surrealist, emitted a pleasant artistic
quality, and amidst an exhibition of modern set design it came
across as old-fashioned, which paradoxically only heightened its
appeal. The contemporary flat designs looked more like paintings
than directions for a set design. It is as though the artist was
aware that he was creating something “extra”, so to speak, more
for display than use. The designs by Dimitri Mochov (Jacques
Offenbach: The Fair Helen) from Belarus were paraphrases on
old graphic prints, and the painting-design by Olga Gricayeva
(William Shakespeare: Romeo and Juliet), also from Belarus,
½Circo Apolo Theater, the Theatre that Never Was / Architect
Joaquim Roy, Spain > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
065-074_PQ_4k.indd 68
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¿Richard Strauss, Elektra / The New Izraeli Opera, Tel Aviv 2000 / Design David Sharir > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
was a Surrealistic vision. From the example of these and
designs from other states of the former Eastern bloc it became
evident that a freely elected and perhaps genuinely experienced
traditionalism can – within the scenographic labyrinth of an
exhibition of stage design – serve as a distinguishing feature.
The same was evident in the student section of the Belarus
exhibit, which, like the national exhibit, was fittingly titled “The
Land beneath the White Wings”, and which centred on a rustic
wooden sculpture, created to accompany work by the national
poet Janka Kupala.
More than a few of the exhibits turned to film screenings as
not a supplementary but the main medium to present their set
ÀLeonard Bernstein, West Side Story / Bregenz Festival, 2002
ÀGiuseppe Verdi, Il Trovatore / Bregenz festival, 2005
Design George Tsypin > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
Design Paul Steinberg > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
065-074_PQ_4k.indd 69
9.7.2008 17:16:43
70/
½Gicomo Puccini, Madame Butterfly / Mariinski Theater,
St.-Peterbourg 2005 / Design Boris Kudlička > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
set design, descriptively titled “Architecture on the Stage”, also
adhered to a minimalistic approach and was awarded the gold
medal for scenic design by the jury. The photographs were not
presented as independent works of art, and they did not relay the
atmosphere or any strong dramatic moments of the production.
They served as documentation: a report on how the scenographic
materials are arranged on stage, and on the possibilities for the
mise-en-scene of the performance in this setting. The thorough
neutrality of the set designs produced a somewhat uniform
impression, which raises the question of whether some members
of the jury made their judgment in the exhibit’s favour on the
basis of an experience external to the exhibition itself, though,
as far as I know, there is nothing in the rules against that. It
is likely that background experience was also the source of the
decision to award the gold medal for staging of a production
¿Petr Ilyich Tchaikovski, The Queen of Spades / Warsaw National Opera,
2004 / Design Boris Kudlička > Photo Martina Novozámská
¾Janka Kupala, The Destroyed Nest / The Belarusian State Academy
of Arts, Minsk / Design Ihar Anisenka > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
designs (Estonia, Norway, Poland). There were even cases where
photography (including digital) was the only medium used to
present the country’s stage designs (Germany, Latvia, South
Korea). This expositive minimalism proved itself as a potential
presentation medium, but it was somewhat monotonous and
visually not very catchy (an exception being one presentation by
the young Latvian Monika Pormale). In the Portuguese exhibit
both media were combined in the work of a single set designer,
Joao Mendes Ribeiro. One part of the exhibit was reserved for
photographs, and another part was for film screenings. Ribeiro’s
065-074_PQ_4k.indd 70
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¿Oscar van Woensel, medEia / Spier Arts Summer Season, 2005
Design Brett Bailey > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
¿¾Juozas Erlickas, Historia of Lithuania / Siauliai Drama Theater,
2004 / Design Galius Kličius > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
¾Portugal, national exhibition / Curator Joao Mendes Ribeiro
to the German production of Shakespeare’s Macbeth (by the
artist Johannes Schütz and the director Jürgen Gosch), which
was also performed as a part of the Prague German Language
Theatre Festival (Prager Theaterfestival Deutscher Sprache).
The photographs in the German exhibit were small and not
very remarkable, and may have been overshadowed by the
large-screen and much more evocative shots of the productions
by the same artists: like a modern last supper stripped of its
pathos (Roland Schimmelpfenig: Ambrosia; A. P. Chekhov:
Three Sisters). The second gold medal awarded for the staging
of a production went to the South African staging of medEia (by
the set designer and director Brett Bailey for the play written
by Oscar van Woensel). What enthralled at first glance in the
delightful smorgasbord of this rummage-like miniature exhibit
was the photograph of a black woman, embellished with a thick
layer of ritual white make-up on her face and body. The parallel
between the rites of Classical drama and African ritual, between
the heroine’s proud bearing and her wildness, was immediately
clear and made compelling by the raw and beautiful authenticity
of the image, further underscored by a rhythmically powerful
musical performance recorded on DVD.
In their selection of themes Asian countries tended to focus
on confrontation between national tradition and a hypertechnologised modernity influenced by “western” globalisation
(Hong Kong, Japan). In the exhibit from Taiwan, titled “In
Motion”, the confrontation of old and new brought them the
gold medal for the use of technology (however, I’m not quite
065-074_PQ_4k.indd 71
sure whether this applied to the technology in the exhibit or the
production). The main attraction the exhibit had to offer was a
spiral basket made out of extraordinarily twisted bamboo, which
formed the frame of the installation, where visitors could view
DVD recordings of extracts from the productions and see more
typical set models and folklore-inspired colourful costumes and
masks.
When one recalls the opulently and diversely costumed
dramatic figures paraded before visitors at PQ 03, by comparison
the costume category at PQ 07 looked like Cinderella before
the ball (except for the “theatrical” fashion shows – but these
were not a part of the costume competition). This year costume
appeared mainly in the role of an accessory, as something to
add flavour to the exhibit’s range of content. Imaginativeness
and originality were in short supply. The jury awarded the gold
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¿Taiwan, national exhibition / Curator Š´- Sing Wang
¿Oscar Ruvalcaba, Carlota, the One from the Garden of Belgium
Sala Miguel Covarrubias, Mexico City 2003 / Design Eloise Kazan
medal to the Mexican exhibit’s costumes, which were bright and
gay, especially the folkloric and even carnivalesque costumes
by Tolita and María Figueroa (Don Juan Tenorio, A Few Small
Dagger Wounds). On closer look, the costumes designed by
the set designer Elois Kazan were also admirable, including
a Secessionist gown with peacock feathers (Oscar Ruvalcaba:
Carlota, the One from the Garden of Belgium) and especially
an unusual, cob-webby and diaphanous khaki uniform (Alicia
Sanchez: Out of Rhythm). The costumes created for Gogol’s The
Cloak stood out in this group for their sober tone. They were
designed by Monica Raya in the sense of three phases in the life of
a garment (incompletion, maturity, and age). In distinctiveness,
though certainly not in terms of the variety of colour, only the
Danish costumes created by Marie í Dali and Steffen Aarfing
for the staging of Wagner’s Ring of the Nibelung at the Royal
Danish Theatre were capable of competing with the costumes
from Mexico. The expressively sketched-in photographs of lifesize figures dressed in costumes inspired by the “demimonde”
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¿Jose Zorrilla, Don Juan Tenorio / Teatro Julio Castillo, Mexico City
2003 / Design Tolita and María Figueroa > Photo Martina Novozámská
¿¾Popular Theatre of „Caminho Niemeyer“, Rio de Janeiro 2002 /
Architect Oscar Niemeyer > Photo Martina Novozámská
¾Michail Bulgakov, Master and Margarita / Latvian Academy of Art,
Riga / Design Epp Kubu > Photo Viktor Kronbauer
½Czech republic, national exhibition / Curator Matěj Forman
> Photo Martina Novozámská
of the first half of the 20th century reproduced some of the
suggestiveness and stylistic uniformity of the production,
wherein the shift in era has an obviously meaningful function
and is not merely the product of ambitious wilfulness.
Creating the Czech exhibit was entrusted to the Forman
brothers – artists, puppeteers and directors – and their relatively
stable team of collaborators. This exhibit was probably the one
that strayed furthest from the principle of documenting set
designs and became an autonomous event in the exhibition
space (though it probably would have looked better outside
on a field somewhere). The exhibit consisted of a stand in the
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shape and style of an old carousel, which emitted a sense of
mystery that especially appealed to children. Young visitors had
their faces made up theatrically by a mysterious set of hands
that reached out through a hole in the stand. They could also
be carted off in a horror-house car through seaweed made out of
rags, or could start up and animate an orchestra of mechanical
bears, or could watch a little puppet dancer. The originality of
the Forman brothers’ somewhat naivistic style was enchanting,
but this type of old-fashioned fairground attraction, seemingly
enclosed in its own time-and-space zone, led one inevitably to
ask – where are the set designs?
The Forman brothers also exhibited a miniaturised and
fairground-coloured replica of their legendary boat “Tajemství”
[Mystery] in the architecture section. That entire section had
to make do with a more modestly located space in the centre
hall’s balcony gallery. No gold medal was awarded in this
category, but an honorary mention was awarded to Spain for its
documentation of the burnt-down Circo Apolo theatre and the
restoration project for it that was never carried out, exhibited
under the title “Theatres at Risk”. The latest theatre projects
created by the doyen of Brazilian and international modern
architecture Oscar Niemeyer were also exhibited here.
The student section occupied its own space in the glass
Křižík Pavilion. As usual, there were two general approaches to
be found: exhibits conceived as a kind of toy-spectacle, almost
resigning on the theatrical aspect (Austria, Finland, Poland,
etc.); or exhibits aimed at the deeper pursuit of an idea and
artistic craft through design, conceived in the form of a model.
In 2007 it was surprisingly the second variant that prevailed (at
least in terms of impressiveness). This time the jury awarded a
prize for talent and a prize for the best exhibit in this section.
Not only did the students from Latvia take away the prize for the
best exhibit, for their exhibit titled “Come Let’s Play Bulgakov!”,
but Reinis Suhanovos, also from Latvia, won the gold prize
for his model and backdrop conceived in the style of a work
by Kazimir Malevich. Some student designs seemed almost to
exude a conservative tone. Surprisingly, though, the effect of this
tone was one of slightly amused optimism rather than a sense of
sadness. Perhaps this was owing to the rediscovery of a respect
for craftsmanship. For example, the meticulously detailed set
models by students from Russia could easily have been models
of Shakespearean Renaissance architecture created sometime in
the 19th century (when craftsmanship was still valued).
There is a post-modern aspect to the way these exhibits were
conceived – various fragments are selected out of the history
of exhibitions and present-day versions and then placed in
entirely new contexts. An element of conservatism in this case
comes across like an expression of free will. The stage designs
themselves, as captured at the exhibition, in the more emphatic
cases, are turning away from the post-modernist buffet (if that
can be taken away from an exhibition piece). While it is true
that nothing obviously new has yet emerged and there has
been a return to familiar styles, they are not being combined in
a single production (of course, this does not mean that there is
no stylisation or interpretative perspective). It seems that stage
designers, at least within the parameters of a particular production,
are turning towards adopting a unified style. Tsypina’s decorative
constructivism; Ribeiro’s minimalism; the pragmatic symbolism
of the Russians; the ritualistic roots of the South Africans; and the
folk poetism of the Belarusian students: all this is giving rise to
various streams that are flowing against the current of time. Can
we expect all this to give rise to a surprise?
Prague Quadrennial, 11th International Exhibition of Scenography and Theatre Architecture, Industrial Palace at the Prague
Exhibition Grounds, Prague, 14 –24 June 2007.
Looking Back at the Prague
QUADRENNIAL
in 2007
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M
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Lenka Šaldová
OF CZECH PUPPETS
¿Kašpárek and Dragon / twenties of 20. century / Carved by Vojtěch Sucharda / The Czech Puppetry and Circus Museum, Prachatice
> Photo Lenka Šaldová
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THE NEW MUSEUM OF CZECH PUPPETS
through St. Nicholas markets, view the
puppets of folk puppeteers and important
Czech artists from the first half of the 20th
century (e.g. Vojtěch Sucharda, Ladislav
Šaloun, Vít Skála, Jiří Trnka), arranged in
theatrical scenes.
The Czech Puppetry and Circus Museum
immediately became a natural magnet for
anyone interested in the circus or magic.
The permanent exhibition in Prachatice is
the first real tribute to people who devoted
themselves to this field of entertainment
art. The curator, Hanuš Jordan, set up an
exhibition that covers the entire history of
the Czech circus, from its first performances
in Prague in 1803 (shown in a replica of
impressive graphic art), to the emergence
of the first Czech circuses, right up to
the high point of this field, represented
by the era of the Kludský (the tails and
stovepipe hat of Karel Kludský, Jr., is on
exhibit), Berousek and Wetheim family
circuses, and on into the post-war period,
with the nationalisation of the circus and
the creation of the “official” state circus
Humberto. In a hall evocative of a circus
ring, visitors can look at various objects
connected with different circus disciplines:
I
n May 2006 the National Museum opened a new permanent
exhibition: The Czech Puppetry and Circus Museum. It is
located in the inspirational interior of what was originally
a Renaissance home in the centre of the Southern Bohemian
town of Prachatice. The exhibition relates the history of two
phenomena that initially were closely related, only later to go
their separate ways.
The National Museum had previously shown its large
collection of puppets and puppetry decorations only at
occasional exhibitions. Only in Prachatice did the curators
Jindřiška Patková and Lenka Šaldová first obtain the opportunity
to comprehensively map three important chapters in Czech
puppetry: the arduous lifestyle of folk puppeteers wandering
between towns and villages, the spread of family puppet
theatres, to an extent unparalleled in Europe, and the rise of
artistically ambitious amateur puppet theatres in the first half
of the 20th century. The exhibition is designed to appeal to both
experts (some unique objects are on exhibit here: the puppets
of Arnošta Kopecká, the granddaughter of the legendary Matěj
Kopecký, the flat puppets of Mikoláš Aleš, the family puppet
theatre of Eduard Vojan, etc.) and the general public: visitors
can see a little child’s room, a little puppet theatre, walk
¿Family puppet theatres / Turn of 19th and 20th century
The Czech Puppetry and Circus Museum, Prachatice > Photo Lenka Šaldová
¾Erik Kolár and Jindřiška Patková / The fifties of 20th century
> Photo archieves
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¿Devil's head / The twenties of 20th century / Carved by Alois Sroif / The Czech Puppetry and Circus Museum, Prahatice > Photo Lenka Šaldová
9.7.2008 17:17:24
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clown paraphernalia, juggling, acrobatics, animal taming (also
on exhibit is the motorbike ridden by the bears of the Berousek
family circus), horse training, etc. Rare exhibit pieces include
a model of the two-ring circus Alfa (1959) on a scale of 1:43,
executed in such detail that it is even possible to see the benches
for the audience, the stand for the orchestra, or the stools for
the animals. There is also a historical waxworks, created in
1890 in Hamburg, with wax figures of Biblical and historical
figures (and curiosities such as a mermaid with a movable
chest), which the Stejskals of Karlovy Vary were still showing
in Czechoslovakia around the year 1950.
The puppetry and circus exhibition also includes a magician’s
closet, its aura of mystery heightened by the presence of
a skeleton, which used to dance in the magic show of the
Kellner family. The historical magician’s accessories on exhibit
(a levitating ball, smoking goblets, etc.) are brought to life in
the hands of top Czech magicians in a film called “The Old
School of Magic”, made explicitly for the Prachatice exhibition.
Each year the National Museum in Prachatice opens two
or three short exhibitions. Last year Lenka Šaldová adapted
an exhibition for Prachatice titled “Erik Kolár and His World
of Puppets”, which had originally been opened by Kolár’s
students, Jindřiška Patková and Jiří Středa, in the spring of 2006
in the Lobkowitz Palace at Prague Castle, to commemorate the
centenary of the birth and thirty years since the death of one
of the most important Czech puppeteers of the 20th century
and one of the founders of the first post-secondary school of
puppetry in the world. The Prague exhibition encompassed not
just the vast and multifaceted work of Erik Kolár, but also, with
a collection of almost two hundred puppets (borrowed from
institutes around the Czech Republic), covered the work of the
most important graduates of the puppetry school. And this was
accompanied by puppetry workshops, performances, and above
all an opportunity to meet Kolár’s students, who recounted how
inspirational a figure their teacher was.
The exhibition in the Czech Puppetry and Circus Museum
in Prachatice concentrates mainly on the work and life of
Erik Kolár, a man who had the ability to lead, bring others
together and inspire them, a man who was a consummate
artist, a beloved and adoring teacher, a tireless organiser, and
a loyal friend. The remarkable documents on exhibit, which tell
much about Kolár and the times he lived in (and with particular
eloquence about the war and post-war years), are accompanied
by photographs of Kolár the actor, Kolár the director, Kolár
the teacher, and photographs from Kolár’s productions. The
exhibition also includes a collection of puppets from the Puppet
Theatre of Art Culture (Loutkové divadlo Umělecké výchovy) in
Prague, where Kolár worked for almost twenty years and where
his productions contributed substantially to transforming the
style of Czech puppet theatre.
The Theatre Department of the National Museum is also
organising exhibitions on the theme of puppets, the circus and
magic: in 2008 the exhibition “Belachini XIII and His Magic
Apparatus”, and in 2009 the “Bygone Times of Caravan Life”.
A NEW MUSEUM
OF CZECH PUPPETS
9.7.2008 17:17:24
½Rat-Catcher, Daimon Alter Ego
Designed by František Vítek / Václav Renč,
Rat-Catcher´s Whistle / Drak, Hradec
Králové 1970 / Moravian Museum, Brno
> Photo archives
TXONGILORA LEIH
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TXEK
VENTANA AL TÍTERE CHECO
Jaroslav Blecha
A WI
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CZECH PUP
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TXEKIAR TXOTXONGILORA LEIHOA – VENTANA AL TÍTERE CHECO – A WINDOW ONTO CZECH PUPPETRY
“A
Window onto Czech Puppetry” is the title of what was
one of the most extraordinary showcases of Czech
puppet theatre to date. It took place at the end of
2007 in Tolosa, Spain, as part of the international puppet festival
“Titirijai 07”. The event was a grand undertaking, initiated by the
general secretary of UNIMA, the world puppetry organisation,
and the director of the festival Mr. Miguel Arreche. It comprised
an exhibition, presentations by six Czech theatre companies,
and a thematic debate evening. Czech participation took place
under the auspices of the Embassy of the Czech Republic and
the Czech Centre in Madrid. On the Czech side, the project was
organised by the Association of Professional Puppeteers, the
Czech UNIMA Centre, and the Moravian Museum, and namely
by Nina Malíková, Stanislav Doubrava and Jaroslav Blecha. This
financially costly event also received financial support from the
Ministry of Culture of the Czech Republic.
The picturesque, ancient and poetic town of Tolosa lies
in northwest Spain near the Bay of Biscay in the province of
Guipúzcoa, enclosed by mountains within the valley of the Oria
River. The town has a population of 18 000. In addition to the
six-day Carnival and an international choir competition, the
international puppet festival is one of the most important annual
cultural events organised in the town. The festival has a long
history (2007 marked its twenty-fifth anniversary), drawing
participation from theatres and artists from around the world. It
receives substantial financial support from the Spanish Ministry
of Culture, the Basque Ministry of Culture, the government of
Guipúzcoa province, and the municipal authorities in Tolosa.
The project “A Window onto Czech Puppetry” included an
exceptionally comprehensive exhibition of the same name,
which was accompanied by a publication. The Spanish hosts
set aside a suitable and dignified location for it, in the large
exhibition spaces of Palace Aranbur (ten halls with a total area of
five hundred square metres). The exhibition and accompanying
publication were conceived and written by Jaroslav Blecha, the
director and curator of the Theatre History Department at the
Moravian Museum in Brno, which took on most of the production
work and eventually the actual execution of the exhibition.
The design was created by the Brno artist, woodcarver and set
designer Antonín Maloň.
The exhibition’s creators used authentic and supplementary
documentation in an effort to provide visitors with an idea of the
unique tradition of Czech puppetry from the late 18th and early
19th centuries up to the present, and to do so not just from an
expert perspective, but also in a manner appealing to visitors.
They presented the main, characteristic developmental trends
9.7.2008 17:07:26
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in Czech puppet theatre, while also highlighting those elements
that are unique in an international context: the marionette
theatre of itinerant puppeteers, so-called family puppet theatres,
amateur puppetry groups, featuring the original artistic style
of the Czech modernists, and the work of institutional puppet
theatres. The layout of the exhibition followed this thematic
structure.
The first part of the exhibition provided visitors with an idea
of what the marionette theatre of itinerant Czech puppeteers was
like, describing its history over the past two centuries, its visual
appearance, and the technology most commonly used in its
time in puppetry, scenery and sets, and the social standing, ties
and functions of this kind of theatre. The exhibition presented
selected unique works by traditional woodcarving workshops
and by woodcarvers from the 19th and early 20th centuries,
and it introduced the public to the typology of characters and
the signature woodcarving style of the best-known artists, who
created puppets for well-known puppetry families. Among the
most valuable carvings on show were puppets from the workshop
of Mikoláš Sychrovský (1802-1881) from Mirotice in Southern
Bohemia, the two generations of woodcarvers of the Sucharda
family (Antonín, Sr., 1812-1886, and Antonín, Jr., 1843-1911) from
Nová Paka, and the Italian woodcarver, who settled permanently
in Prague, Josef Alessi (circa 1820-1895). Arranged scenes taken
from specific plays and short lines of dialogue were presented
to evoke an idea of the characteristic repertoire of marionette
theatre.
Another part of the exhibition introduced the public both to
the phenomenon of so-called family puppet theatre, which was
one part of the Czech amateur puppet scene in the first half of
the 20th century and constituted a massive movement among
the public, and also to the existence and extreme popularity of
tabletop puppet theatres and puppets, which were fabricated
by professionals and amateurs and were widely popular
and frequently used by the public at home. This part of the
exhibition showcased the remarkable work of several Czech
puppetry firms that produced puppets and decorations for
family puppet theatre and for puppet theatre groups. Selected
exhibits highlighted the specific contribution of a number of
exceptional Czech artists who created such works. A series
of carved puppets, including several of their original models,
were shown, from the rare first Czech puppets of this kind
created in 1912, called “alšovky” and inspired by the paintings
of Mikoláš Aleš, to puppets produced by the firm Münzberg,
ÀPuppets of the Münzberg Company / Produced in series from 1924
ÀDevils / Designed by Jan Malík for serial production, 1937 / Moravian
Moravian Museum, Brno > Photo archives
Museum, Brno > Photo archives
½Stomper / Half of the 19th century / Carved propably by Jan Flasch
Moravian Museum, Brno > Photo archives
9.7.2008 17:07:28
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1
2
3
4
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Modrý & Žanda, for whom important artists and sculptors
created the original models, through to some rare and original
puppets fabricated by artists for individual family theatres. Also
on display were some rare lithographs of the first Czech copy
of “Scenery by Czech Artists” (Dekorace českých umělců),
published from 1913, including the first, excellent proscenium
created by František Kysela. The documentation accompanying
the exhibition described the standard practices of companies, the
atmosphere of the period, fomented by the educational activities
of the puppetry historian Jindřich Veselý and the Czech Union of
Friends of Puppet Theatre, the repertoire of performances, and
the significance of the phenomenon of family puppet theatre.
The exhibition presented the puppetry work of the classic Czech
modernists, drawing on examples of work by several important
puppetry theatre groups active at that time (The Puppet Theatre
of the Ferial Colonies in Pilsen / Loutkové divadlo Feriálních
osad; the Artistic Puppet Scene / Umělecká loutková scéna; The
Puppet Theatre of Artistic Culture / Loutkové divadlo Umělecké
výchovy; and the Art Scene of the Puppet Kingdom in Prague /
Umělecká scéna Říše loutek). The exhibits provided a sense of the
transformation of the formal characteristics of puppets in the first
half of the 20th century, under the influence of new artistic trends
(Art Nouveau, Cubism, Cubo-expressionism, Functionalism,
Expressionism) and the efforts of artists inspired by Czech avantgarde theatre towards creating new types of puppets and sets
stressing a “fresh” stylistic approach (unorthodox techniques,
especially Asian, the use of various materials, etc.). The
accompanying materials also recalled the reformist repertoire and
its better quality and more varied themes, along with the work of
several prominent figures in this area of puppetry (Skupa, Malík,
Sucharda, etc.).
The section of the exhibition on modern puppet theatre created
an idea of how Czech puppet theatre has changed in connection
with its professionalisation and institutionalisation, signifying
its artistic recognition, and also introduced visitors to the
current work of professional Czech puppet theatres. The exhibits
comprised puppets and some sets by professional puppetry set
designers created for specific productions put on by puppet
theatres. Several exhibits also presented current artwork inspired
by puppets and puppet theatre. The accompanying materials
1. Moonprince / Designed by Václav Havlík / Marie Kannová, Enchanted
Drake / Ústřední loutkové divadlo, Praha 1959 / The Museum of Puppet
Culture, Chrudim > Photo archives
2. Page / Designed by Václav Havlík / František Pavlíček, Bajaja / Ústřední
loutkové divadlo, Praha 1963 / The Museum of Puppet Culture, Chrudim
> Photo archives
3. Jester / Designed by Ivan Nesveda / William Shakespeare, King Llyr
Alfa, Plzeň 1989 / The Museum of Puppet Culture, Chrudim > Photo archives
4. Musketeers / Designed by Petr Matásek / Alexander Dumas,
Jan Středa, Servant and tree Musketeers / Divadlo Archa, Plzeň 1970
The Museum of Puppet Culture, Chrudim > Photo archives
¾Thieves / Designed by Ivan Nesveda / Iva Peřinová, Alibaba and the
Forty Thieves / Naivní divadlo Liberec, 1994 / Naive Theatre Liberec
> Photo archives
9.7.2008 17:07:31
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included information on some of the main puppetry festivals in
the Czech Republic.
The exhibition offered over five hundred exhibits, which
were presented in a manner designed best to evoke the original
appearance of the given historical form of puppet theatre, the
function of puppets, the productions, the repertoires, and so on.
The objects on display, all of them unique pieces, came from
several Czech public collections and from the stock of some
puppet theatres. Most of the loans were from three large Czech
museums with substantial puppetry collections: the Moravian
Museum, the Museum of Puppetry Culture, and the National
Museum. Loans also came from professional puppet theatres:
Spejbl and Hurvínek Theatre (Divadlo Spejbla a Hurvínka),
Minor Theatre (Divadlo Minor), Art Scene of the Puppet
Kingdom (Umělecká scéna Říše loutek), Radost Puppet Theatre
(Loutkové divadlo Radost), DRAK Theatre (Divadlo DRAK),
Ostrava Puppet Theatre (Divadlo loutek Ostrava), Liberec Naivist
Theatre (Naivní divadlo Liberec), Alfa Theatre (Divadlo Alfa),
Lampion Theatre (Divadlo Lampion), The Little Theatre (Malé
divadlo) and Theatre of Diversity (Divadlo Rozmanitostí).
Particular objects of interest on exhibit, some of which
are not often on display, included, for example, the oldest
preserved marionettes by the woodcarvers M. Sychrovský,
J. Alessi, A. Sucharda (Sr. and Jr.), original prints of “Scenery by
Czech Artists”, sketches of sets and puppets by A. SuchardováBrichová, F. Vojáček, L. Šaloun, puppets by V. Sucharda,
K. Štapfer, K. Svolinský, Š. Zálešák, J. Vavřík-Rýz, and puppets
by many contemporary artists, such as F. Vítek, P. Kalfus,
P. Matásek, I. Nesveda, and others.
The exhibition was enthusiastically received in Spain. Over
the festival’s nine days it was viewed by almost fifteen thousand
visitors. Until 22 March 2008 the Moravian Museum was offering
a variation on the exhibition in Brno for the Czech public.
The above-mentioned accompanying publication (84 pages,
with around 60 colour and 40 black-and-white photographs)
contains extensive information on the history of Czech puppet
theatre. It reflects the diverse forms and the transformation of
puppetry, and important theatres and figures in its history, from
the earliest period up to the present. In Spain the publication
was issued in a Basque-Spanish and a Spanish-English version;
in the Czech Republic a Czech-English version is available.
IAR TXOTXONGILORA LEIHOA
TXEK
VENTANA AL TÍTERE CHECO
A WI
TRY
NDOW ONTO
CZECH PUPPE
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KALEIDOSCOPE
Jan Kerbr
It’s Gonna Be Scary
A
rnošt Goldflam staged his Fairytales for the Naughty
two years ago at Klicpera Theatre (Klicperovo divadlo)
in Hradec Králové, but this suggestive production,
situated in the midst of something like a party of homeless
people, gathered around the campfire telling good tales, was
not successful and played only several times. Some unhappy
teachers may have had a finger in this, having had to sit through
these somewhat coarse morality tales with their students,
including one tale “about a twat”. While it is true that in the
new rendition, directed by Petr Vodička and titled Bloody
Knee (Krvavé koleno) at the Alfa in Pilsen, this “children not
allowed” fairytale was played at the end as a bonus for just
an adult audience, the fairytale was nonetheless harsh and
magical, centring on events that take place around a rural
bus stop, where a crowd gathers, some of whom appear to
be a few cards short of a full deck. They all the more easily
then succumb to the magic of the stories presented by the
village peers-come-amateur performers, and they even join in
themselves or are mixed up with the performers (eleven actors
play all the various roles in the production). Each of the tales
performed possesses its own poetics, and the morbid themes
of the stories, even with the emphatic humour, still leave
enough room for reflections on life and death, the relationship
of man to his ancestors and descendants, and fateful personal
relationships.
The very first fairytale, “A Fly’s Home” (Muší domeček),
where more and more animals squeeze into a small cup, until
in the end a bear cracks it, is conceived as though passengers
are being “poured” into a bus stop shelter, which structurally
cannot sustain the arrival of the last of them, a corpulent
character played by Petr Borovský. Radio announcements
inviting citizens to attend a performance of “Cry for a Drowned
Mouse” create an atmosphere of constant theatrical chatter.
However, before this wildly comic production comes on, we
meditate with the actors on the frightening tales. For instance,
the headless old man snaps off a solicitous hand stretched out
through a window and begs for help, and then as punishment
he loses his head, and the moral of the story is summed up
as: Sometimes it’s silly to do things too quickly. The finishing
touches on this gloomy tale are added by the intimate “dead”
set by Renáta Pavlíčková, the occasional otherworldly lighting,
and the very subtle use of puppets to explain some of the
dramatic turns in the tales.
The high point of the production is definitely “Cry for
a Drowned Mouse”, a story based on the principle of the
continuous repetition of a tale that grows increasingly longer
and more in depth each time. A sausage, a door, manure,
a fence, and so on, are gradually added to the mourners of
the deceased, each of which expresses its grief in a different
way. Heart-rending emotions are displayed alternately by Petr
Borovský and another monster in the ensemble, Martin S.
Bartůšek. The humour derives from both of them completely
expresing the grief of the mourners with each one that is
added to the group (this requires considerable physical effort
from Bartůšek, because alongside other arduous tasks he has
to depict, with a not very careful crash, a forest that cut itself
down with grief, hurling himself to the ground again and again
with unabated vigour). At the end of these morbid pranks the
landowner, not wanting to ?behind, drills a large whole in his
throat and falls down dead. The epilogue is “Bloody Knee”,
a knee that comes to destroy a child who misbehaves, and
for adults the above-mentioned “Twat”, cautioning against
impulsive sexual infatuation.
The character of the production is like a jovial rural
gathering, but permeated by serious existential themes,
handled in the best traditions of dark humour. This is an
extremely lively and juicy production, and Pilsen’s Alfa, after
last year’s success with The Three Musketeers, has without
worry another successful piece to stage.
Arnošt Goldflam: Bloody Knee. Directed by Petr Vodička, set
Renáta Pavlíčková, music Jan Matásek. Alfa Theatre, Pilsen,
premiere 5/3/2006.
> Photo archives
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Lubomír Mareček
The Very Blue (and Very Sad) Bird
A
t the Goose on a String Theatre (Divadlo Husa na provázku)
in Brno the director Vladimír Morávek staged the Symbolist
play The Blue Bird (L’Oiseau bleu), a work he had allegedly
been longing to direct since his youth. The new work brought
together prominent figures in the Czech theatre scene: Milan Uhde
wrote the song lyrics and the musician Michal Pavlíček created
the music for the songs and the scenic music. Brno had moreover
last seen The Blue Bird performed by the Mahen Theatre in the
very early 1990s, when it was put on by Goose on a String’s Peter
Scherhaufer – Morávek was thus also acknowledging his great
predecessor. Nevertheless, the production of The Very Blue Bird
(Velice modrý pták), with its enhanced title, will not be the great
event of this season.
The Flemish playwright, poet, and essayist, Maurice
Maeterlinck, writing in French, composed a dreamlike story of
two children, who wander off one night after a blue bird. When
the Swedish Academy awarded Maeterlinck the Nobel Prize,
it explained its decision as on part owing to the fact that the
author’s dramatic works, “through their abundance of fantasy and
poetic idealism, and sometimes veiled in fairytale form, display
deep inspiration and mysteriously appeal to human feeling and
imagination”. Anyone staging The Blue Bird would be working with
a sublimely enchanting story, intended to arouse people’s fantasy
and reach into the goodness of their hearts. That kind of material is
tricky to work with and it is a task of enormous difficulty!
Vladimír Morávek applied a level-headed approach to the production, which he pulled on stage literally through a wardrobe. Martin
Chocholoušek’s set is essentially made up of walls with the silhouettes of branches and tree trunks. He enclosed the stage on three
sides with bare, intertwining trees. Even though the specifications
in the play call for grandly alternating fairytale sets, the classic show
that emerges offers no dramatic set changes in its three hours. Elaborate visual effects would probably squash the delicate, dreamy
fabric of the piece, but the static set simply made it flat. Morávek
pulled the entire tale into this space from out of a wardrobe, from
where the opening march of animals, live emotions, and inanimate
things parades onto the stage. Maeterlinck brought their souls to life
in the form of dramatic figures. Most of these unusual characters
are introduced in an opening song describing them, which in places gives the impression of looking at a pop-up picture book. Milan
Uhde, an old hand at this work, fills the song stanzas with gentle
recommendations like “we believe in fairytales” or “rely on a miracle”, which struck me as rather feeble.
The director Vladimír Morávek has generally won the favour of
the public and unremitting admiration of a large number of critics
owing to his remarkable scenic images, ingenious cuts, comical
details, and skilfully constructed atmospheres on the stage. But it
is as though these very qualities have now forsaken him. The production dragged out an already sparse plot with musical numbers,
and so The Very Blue Bird, which was aspiring to offer the public
an innovative musical at the venue of Goose on a String Theatre,
resembles more of a sluggish cabaret piece from around one-third
of the way through onwards. Occasionally things snapped up, but
then immediately sank back into the monotonous slowness with
which the performance is served up, which lacks any substantial
directorial kick. Moreover, Morávek’s stock mood-shaping heroes
and alienating frolics only served to further stunt things. This
arsenal of directorial tactics added logjams to an already slowmoving plot and quashed whatever moments of dramatic tension
may have arisen. (The production, for example, is studded with
subtle references to passages from songs by the pop band Chinaski.) Morávek even allows the theme song from the TV series
Friends from Green Valley to unfurl into a scene of its own. It is
as though he were of afraid of taking the play too seriously. It is
likely the entire atmosphere of the staging that stifles its overall
result. The Very Blue Bird was to be a conterpart to Morávek’s prior four-year period, which he spent putting together a remarkable
tetralogy of Dostoyevsky’s works (see M. Reslová: A Century Fascinated With The Devil, Czech Theatre 22). Now he would like
to climb out of the labyrinths of fateful passion, death, sin and
a world in which God is dead. However, he has paradoxically turned the fanciful poetry of Maeterlinck’s original work into an eerie,
funereal ceremony. The children’s journey by night regrettably at
times reminds one of a horror show and other times of a grotesque
spectacle. A more mercifully gentle and genuinely fairytale tone
is lacking, achieved only in scenes of dramatic tension, like the
children’s encounter with their dreamed-of mother or the closing
finale.
Maurice Maeterlinck: The Very Blue Bird. Translation Alena
Morávková and Šárka Belisová, directed by Vladimír Morávek, set
Martin Chocholoušek, costumes Eva Morávková, song lyrics Milan
Uhde, music Michal Pavlíček. Goose on a String Theatre, Brno, premiere 17 and 19/2/2007.
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Saša Hrbotický
This Black Hole Plays with Time
and the Audience
D
ejvice Theatre (Dejvické divadlo) tends not to set out
along tried and tested paths or cling to the goals it has
already achieved, but searches instead for ever new
impulses, which includes contacting and inviting directors with
their own distinctive poetics and an unmistakably individual
style. Black Hole (Černá díra) is a play penned by a fictitious
author named Doyle Doubt. The director Jiří Havelka, who
made a name for himself as a leading figure at the Prague Studio
Ypsilon, initiated the production of this work at Dejvice Theatre,
and with it he embarked on an interesting experiment.
The actors were not presented with a final script. The
director allowed them to improvise freely, and over the course
of rehearsals they together came up with the final form of the
performance, which relied on perfect interplay between the
actors and the exact timing of each situation.
Even despite the peculiar man dressed in overalls, making
his way across the stage with the slow motions of an astronaut,
the production initially seems like some kind of farcical comedy
situated in the interior of a gas station snack bar somewhere
along an American highway. The disinterested waitress (Simona
Babčáková) behind the counter only becomes animated when
she talks with the local policeman (David Novotný), but
otherwise she utters nothing but barely monosyllabic responses
to her customers’ requests and offers them nothing more than
the obligatory coffee, the opportunity to use the phone, the
toilet, or the good old singles-playing juke-box. A stream of
curious characters gradually parade before her impassive gaze:
a shy monster with a briefcase containing the inanely devised
questionnaires of a polling agency (Pavel Šimčík), a couple
of giddy lovers (Václav Neužil and Martha Issová) travelling
across the United States in a rented Buick, and finally, the
mysterious duo of a television performer with a cocaine addition
accompanied by his manager (Jaroslav Plesl and Ivan Trojan).
The structure of the performance quickly takes on a more
refined shape, as the opening situation begins to unfold again
and again, but differently each time, corresponding to the
different timing of the characters’ entries and interactions.
In a pre-premiere interview the director acknowledged that
while working on Black Hole he was influenced by “string
theory”, according to which the gravitational forces between
particles are made up of tiny fibres or “strings”, and threedimensional space as we see it actually conceals six other
dimensions.
The application of physics to the theatre space gives rise to the
idea of playing with time and intertwining and creating variations
of short human stories. It is enough for one visitor to enter the
snack bar a moment earlier and the subsequent events unfurl
along a completely different line than before. The characters also
undergo changes, or rather in different contexts other thus far
hidden aspects of their persona are laid bare. The young lovers
first appear like a pair of simpletons, the next time around it
comes out that the girl looks down on her simple partner, and in
yet another round the impression is that they could actually be
a pair of gangsters specialising in gas-station robberies.
These kinds of theatrical experiments often lead audiences
into a dead end of confusion. At Dejvice Theatre, thanks to
the comedic stylisation and traditionally perfect acting performances, the production succeeds in maintaining a connection
with the audience, entertaining them and rousing their attention.
Doyle Doubt: Black Hole. Directed by Jiří Havelka, set Dáda
Němeček. Dejvice Theatre, Prague, premiere 12/4/2007.
> Photo Hynek Glos
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Zdeněk A. Tichý
A Performance Worthwhile
F
ifteen minutes of enthusiastic applause from the audience
welcomed the director Miloš Forman onto the stage of the
National Theatre (Národní divadlo) following a Sunday
premiere. Forman and his two sons, Petr and Matěj, staged
a production of A Walk Worthwhile (Dobře placená procházka),
a jazz opera written in 1965 by Jiří Suchý and Jiří Šlitr for Semafor
Theatre, a TV version of which was filmed a year later by Forman.
This production retained the story of a divorcing couple,
Uli and Vanilka, whose child (not yet conceived) is to inherit
a million from their rich Aunt in Liverpool, but this version of the
story differs considerably from the original. The Semafor and the
television versions were intimate performances, while the National
Theatre’s version of A Walk Worthwhile adhered to a 1960s
artistic stylisation but was transformed into an epic music show,
though without leaving the modest space of Uli and Vanilka’s flat.
Matěj Forman, who designed the set, put a cramped bathroom
on one side of the stage, and on the other located the bedroom,
and the centre space was reserved for the living room, the empty
space of which served as the site of the triumphant arrival of the
rich aunt, accompanied by a large entourage of servants. The set
also underwent dynamic changes using black-and white curtains
decorated with a 1960s-type motif of the nucleus of an atom,
and some scenes took place behind a window that functioned as
a view-hole into the world of fantasy, where a jazz band, a choir
of angels, postmen, and giant carrier pigeons all appeared. Also
beckoning the audience’s attention was a choir of women singing
directly at the level of the audience for most of the performance.
The premiere confirmed that Miloš Forman, working
in tandem with his other son Petr, was not there just so
that his famous name could be added to the posters for the
production. The kind of humour portrayed in some scenes
was reminiscent of Forman’s early films – especially the love
scene between Uli and Vanilka in the bath, which instead of
erotic games becomes the site of an embarrassing situation.
The production also managed to pull off some effective music
and dance numbers, which throughout helped maintain
a little bit of Czech distance from Hollywood sentimentality.
The production offers two to three casts, but the premiere
itself gave a clear signal that the alternations would be balanced.
Forman attuned the performances of both stars and unknowns
into a uniform style. Jana Malá as Vanilka has the requisite sex
appeal and charisma of a calculating bitch, while Petr Stach
as Uli, a Latin teacher, is subserviently timid and withdrawn,
though no less eager for wealth. A real discovery is Petr Píša,
who plays his role as the conniving Lawyer with the kind of
carnal energy worthy of the old masters of silent-screen comedy.
And as soon as the worldly Aunt from Liverpool, played by
Zuzana Stivínová, steps onto the stage, the entire theatre is at her
feet – she looks as though she stepped right out of an American
epic film, but spiced up with a pinch of irony. And then there
is the mysterious Postman played by Jiří Suchý, delivering
telegrams with a disarming smile.
Even Šlitr’s melodies have withstood the test of time.
Interpreted by the conductor Libor Pešek, the songs evoke
a sense of music-hall grandeur and Czech playfulness. The entire
production shines with these kinds of inspirational tie-ins. The
Forman triumvirate prepared a show that combines the largesse
of film, the inventiveness of itinerant players, a feeling for the
grotesque, and hints of a Surrealist dream.
Jiří Suchý, Jiří Šlitr: A Walk Worthwhile. Directed by Miloš
and Petr Forman, musical interpretation Libor Pešek, set Matěj
Forman, costumes Jan Pištěk, choreography Veronika Švábová.
National Theatre, Prague, premiere 23/4/2007.
> Photo Irena Vodáková
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Radmila Hrdinová
The Premiere of Monteverdi’s “Orpheus” at the Estates Theatre
> Photo Hana Smejkalová
T
he Legend of Orpheus (L’Orfeo), the third ever work created
as part of the new art of opera, and the oldest work by
Claudio Monteverdi to survive in its entirety, was staged by
the National Theatre (Národní divadlo) in Prague. In reality this
was a project of a company that has thus far concentrated more on
contemporary music, and it was performed under the wings of the
country’s top theatre, the only common denominator of the event
being the director and new manager of the National Theatre’s opera,
Jiří Heřman. The creative team and artists behind the production
were engaged, not from the National Theatre’s company, but from
a circle of artists specialising in the interpretation of Baroque
opera, a group headed by the Italian director Roberto Gini, who in
February of this year in Mantua directed a gala performance for the
four hundredth anniversary of the premiere there of Orpheus.
Monteverdi’s Orpheus was originally not yet referred to as an
opera but as a “legend to music” (favola in musica), with a prologue
and five acts, and it told the story of the mythical singer Orpheus’s
love for the beautiful Eurydice, whom he follows into the realm
of the dead. In the music, soloists alternate with madrigal choirs
and instrumental passages in the form of dances and orchestral
symphonies. Paradoxically, Orpheus has both much and little in
common with the typical notion of operatic theatre. It cannot be
judged by the criteria of Romantic opera, and instead must be seen
in terms of its complex approach to combining song, movement,
and the visual components of a work. As such it is more in tune
with our understanding of modern musical theatre today.
This is how the director Jiří Heřman interpreted Orpheus,
creating a visual variation on the concept of the existence of human
beings in space. He filled the stage of the Estates Theatre (Stavovské
divadlo) with stylised figures in motion and objects flowing freely
through the air, with globes spinning in glass windows, an orange
disc for the sun, a looming red heart, a bird stuck in flight, and an
open gate to the underworld revealing a tree with golden apples
or a vanished, bound figure dropped from a gridiron. The chorus
does not just serve as a choral ensemble but also as dancers, as the
performers of the roles of shepherds, of the dark shadows of the
underworld, and of the pallid figures of the “unburied” dead that
Orpheus sings about.
Heřman’s spatial fantasy, rigorously stylised and slowed in pace,
was remarkable in its details, but as a whole it came across as too
ornamental and in places mechanically predictable and distantly
cool. Combined with the music, which Gini maintained at a subdued,
contemplative level, without any sharp dramatic changes, the
performance lulls the viewer’s attention to the point of deadening it.
In their vocal performances the singers showed that they had learned
their roles, their steady voices intertwining in the decorative style of
the time, but with only some exceptions (the Nymph and Proserpina
by Petra Noskaiová), on the whole their voices were unable to
adequately fill the space of the Estates Theatre. It is expected of
Orpheus that he charm not just the shadows of the underworld but
also the public in the theatre, but in the role Vincenzo di Donato more
or less played it safe. The chorus, headed by Roberto Hugo, succeeded
in its performance of the more demanding parts, even Monteverdi’s
madrigals, but its sound was too intimate for the Estates Theatre. The
orchestra captivated the audience with the unusual sound of period
instruments, but there were difficulties harmonising them, so it is
hard to say what has to be chalked up to the fact that this was a period
interpretation, and what not.
For the audience Orpheus is an unusual but interesting piece
of work. This encounter with Monteverdi’s opera is certainly
praiseworthy. Too bad only five performances were planned.
Claudio Monteverdi: Orpheus. Libretto by Alessandro Striggio
Jr., music interpreted and directed by Roberto Gini, directed by
Jiří Heřman, set Pavel Svoboda, costumes Lenka Polášková,
lighting design Daniel Tesař. National Theatre, Prague, premiere
3/5/2007 at the Estates Theatre.
Zdeněk Hořínek
The Two Sides of a Dictator’s Mentality
I
n 1907 the Russian novelist and essayist Dmitry Merezhkovsky
wrote a historical drama about the death of Tsar Paul
I (1754–1801). In this country it was performed for the first
time in 1919 in Pilsen and one year later at the National Theatre
(Národní divadlo) in Prague. The play The Death of Paul I
was rediscovered for audiences today by the dramaturg Štěpán
Otčenášek, and the director Hana Burešová staged it at Brno City
Theatre (Městské divadlo Brno).
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The drama and the production systematically adhered to
a concept of playing on opposites and contrasts. The scenes
alternated between public and private settings and switched
back and forth between seriousness and grotesque comedy
and between tense drama and calm intimacy. This concept
of opposites was suggested in the artistic design itself: bright
historical costumes, in white, black, grey and red tones, contrast
with the geometrical design of the set, mainly characterised by the
scant furniture (tables, chairs, and sofas), the use of translucent
oblong panels, and the movable platforms fitted with stairs.
There were certainly meanings to be read into the differentiation
between costumes by colour, but they were not conventional
associations; for instance, here, the colour white was associated
with intimacy and defencelessness rather than innocence, but also
with hopelessness, passivity, and lethargy. The set, when combined
with the lighting and the background projection screens, evoked
the cool atmosphere of a snowy landscape. The panels, variously
arranged and distributed across the stage, implied the outlines
of an obstructed, maze-like terrain of halls and chambers. The
changing settings were seen to, in a bewilderingly productive
swarm of activity, by the numerous footmen on stage, whose
bayonets and uniforms created an impression of general threat
and surveillance. The setting and the atmosphere were heightened
by the omnipresent music of Vladimír Franz, which, in addition
to its illustrative and metaphorical functions (drumming, bugling,
marching, the ominous cawing of crows), had a powerfully
dramatic force that prevented the excitement and tension from
subsiding during the set changes while it also subtly underscored
the intimate scenes and sentimental outpourings.
However, the essential opposition and contrast lay in the
autocratic, inconsistent character of Paul and his shocking
behaviour, creating an unbearable tension between power and
society, the latter represented not by the people but by politicians
and military functionaries. Erik Pardus was clearly given the
opportunity of a lifetime to play this lead, and he handled it in
a fascinating manner, with sudden, illogical, unexpected, and
yet variously motivated mood changes, moving from thoughtless
aggression to a self-stirring emotionalism, and alternating
between a grimace and a frozen expression, and using cranky
movements and gestures that only calmed down and became
gentle in the arms of a lover. All this evoked an uncertain sense
that this character was at once a cruel and dangerous madman and
a deeply vulnerable and sensitive person. Paul’s unpredictability
was vividly reflected in the court protocol, demonstrated in the
very first scene of the military parade. The precision and strictness
of a military parade was inter-cut with random incidents. In
a furious whim the Tsar sentenced an honourable sergeant to four
hundred cane strokes for committing a minor error. The parade of
forces became at the same time an exorbitantly graphic display of
the political system. All that bothered me in this was that the loud
music at times drowned out the Tsar’s commands and imperious
comments. The initiator and head of the anti-Tsar resistance,
Count Pahlen, played by Igor Ondříček, was, in appearance,
temperament, and in his quiet authority, the very opposite of the
Tsar – tall, with a military grace, and an unfathomable expression
on his face, which we suspect conceals the hidden designs and
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> Photo Jef Kratochvíl
melancholy scepticism of a man who knows enough to be able
to doubt the idea of change for the better. This was eloquently
demonstrated in the depiction of a meeting of conspirators, where
political debates alternated with talk about whores and booze, and
where high-minded proclamations were interrupted by drunken
cries and revelry. Viktor Skála’s Tatarinov, a boorish lout, and
Jan Mazák’s lewd clown Skaryatin, though backward, but all
the more roisterous for that, were clearly front and centre here.
In the end, this boisterous conspiratorial anarchy seemed just as
absurd as the chillingly inhuman established order. The outcome
of the conspiracy activities and the dramatic climax of the evening
was the depiction of the Tsar’s murder, the chaotic course of
which reflected the mental state of the conspirators, captured in
the throes of mania and fear, hidden behind the anonymity of
the inflicted wounds. The figure of the heir to the throne, Paul’s
son Alexander, wavers between the two camps. Petr Štěpán
conveyed his sense of indecision – contrasting with his strapping
masculinity – by means of lazy postures and “lounging” (typically
reclining on a white ottoman), combined with hysterical outbursts
of insecurity and powerless resistance. His brother Constantin
(Oldřich Smysl) figured in the background of events, but his
ironic comments would have benefited from a bit more force to
them. Although the play was mainly about power, at that time
mostly the business of men, Merezhkovsky managed to portray
three positions and fates that are typically female. A woman
subjugated and spurned, a victim of male caprice, the Tsarina
Marie Fyodorovna (Irena Konvalinová) faintly fluttered about
in a frail effort to attract attention, wearing a naive expression,
surprised at everything and understanding nothing, and only
in the tragic conclusion did she gain some dignity through her
genuine suffering. The woman as comforter – Paul’s lover Anna
Gagarin (Evelína Jirková), in whose warmly sensual embrace
the Tsar finds a moment of peace and serenity. And finally, the
active woman – Alexander’s wife Elizabeth (Pavla Ptáčková),
who with masculine decisiveness vainly attempted to goad her
partner into resolving to take action. The director Hana Burešová
and the dramaturg together created (by eliminating a number of
characters and shortening the second half of the play) the optimum
version of the script, mastering the complexity of collective events,
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maintaining a gripping and well-planned gradation of tension in
the noisily public and quietly intimate scenes, contrasting the
aspects of different genres, and guiding the lead actors towards
provocatively ambivalent interpretations of their characters. The
internal inconsistency of the character of Paul I vividly displays
the two sides of the dictator’s mentality, in which bestial cruelty
can surprisingly co-exist with (what seems like) the humanity
of Utopian pursuits. There are even aspects of that legendary
Russian messianism here, a man attempting by his own might
to solve all the world’s problems and thus become the saviour
of the universe. Paul’s manner of rule called to mind not just the
bizarre behavioural quirks of various tyrants today but also the
political and diplomatic practices of totalitarian regimes. This old
play, in which we can find parallels with both Shakespeare and
Dürrenmatt, came across in this modern interpretation as very
timely.
Dmitri Merezhkovsky: The Death of Paul I. Translation by Danuše
Kšicová, directed by Hana Burešová, set Tomáš Rusín, costumes
Zuzana Štefunková, music Vladimír Franz. Brno City Theatre,
premiere 8/9/2007.
Terezie Pokorná
A Brave Fellow is the Pride of the World
T
he Playboy of the Western World, by John Millington
Synge, is one of the most astonishing plays ever
written. Its premiere at the Abbey Theatre in January
1907 provoked one of the most famous riots in the history of
European theatre. The play’s renown spread across the world,
and just a couple of months after the Dublin production, it was
staged at the National Theatre (Národní divadlo) in Prague,
its translation into Czech the work of Karel Mušek. Since
then theatre artists have been irresistibly drawn to this text,
but it is not easy to stage. In the Czech Republic currently the
Drama Club (Činoherní klub) is taking on this task, under the
direction of Ondřej Sokol.
Synge drew inspiration from his travels along the western
Irish coast, the closed and mysterious world that exists there, its
nature and traditions, and its distinct and often mythologised
way of life. The basic plot of the play seems obvious: when “on
the wild coast of County Mayo” a wretched stranger-desperado
enters an abandoned pub, and he lets spill that he killed his
father with a spade, the locals do not turn him in, or judge him,
but begin to admire him. Subsequent events follow the plot
line of a lively farce, written with brilliant dramatic instinct.
The play is remarkable and unique primarily owing to the
sense of ambivalence and paradox that surfaces continuously
at the level of language, meaning, and style. The comic merges
with the tragic, the high with the low, the (anti)heroes speak
both vulgarly and poetically, and disturbing questions soon
emerge out of the farce. This signalises a turn, which today, in
the age of the most extreme trivialisation of violence and the
manipulation of reality, raises a particularly relevant theme:
those around Christy look up to him only as long as they are
able to admire his patricide as a narrative, as there is a “great
chasm between words and actions”.
The Playboy of the Western World is usually regarded as an
“untranslatable” work. And it is also referred to as “impossible
to stage”, because, as noted by one of its interprets, Nicholas
Greene, it is difficult not to emphasise one aspect at the expense
of others and rather to preserve the multivalent nature of the
work. Ondřej Sokol, who has acquired a reputation as an
interpreter of Synge’s modern successor, Martin McDonagh,
> Photo Pavel Nesvadba
initially, and surprisingly, decided to go with the poetic outlook.
He may have been led towards this by Martin Hilský’s highly
stylised translation, which particularly follows the playwright’s
meticulous work with the melody and rhythm of speech.
Sokol’s depiction of this Irish micro-world of long ago at first
seems too picturesque and neat. The impression that we are
looking at just picture-perfect idyllic scenes from the slightly
eccentric but nonetheless “good old” times derives partly from
the constant presence of a live “Irish” band on stage. However,
it gradually becomes apparent that the director knows the
nature of the play he has before him: he ever increasingly
allows (self)irony to permeate the characters’ poetic lines, and
both dark humour and even altogether serious tones end up
by means of sharp cuts as comical situations. The actors hold
the majority of the responsibility for the successful outcome of
the production, and their performances could form the subject
of a separate paper.
The actor in the main role, Jaroslav Plesl, has the
necessary charisma of his character and brilliantly handles
the instantaneous transformation from an outsider into
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a grandstander, from a twaddler into a poet, and from
a goggle-eyed young man into a mature adult. A strong coplayer for him is the sovereign Michal Pavlata, who plays
his father, and even Ivana Wojtylová, whose portrayal of the
widow Quinn subtly adds a strong and independent story into
the evening. Kateřina Lojdová gives a persuasive performance
as the temperamental and sharp Pegeen, and so too does Matej
Dadák as her sadly awkward and cowardly suitor Shawn.
Vladimír Kratina marvellously plays an alcoholic without ever
resorting to easy tricks.
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The production climaxes in a meticulously performed
phantasmagorical kerfuffle full of emotions, alcohol and
blood, which we have to laugh at, but which is followed by
a sobering and a strange kind of sadness.
John Millington Synge: The Playboy of the Western World.
Directed by Ondřej Sokol, set Adam Pitra, costumes Katarína
Hollá, with the musical group Shannon. Drama Club Prague,
premiere 10/9/2007.
Lukáš Jiřička
SKUTR at a Crossroads
M
artin Kukučka and Lukáš Trpišovský (both 1979), the
duo behind the hard to forget label SKUTR (see Jana
Machalická: Scootering through the Labyrinth of the
World, Czech Theatre 23), have not yet reached their respective
thirtieth birthdays, but they have nonetheless managed to
win the hearts of a loyal public for their productions at Archa
Theatre (Divadlo Archa) and were even nominated for an
Alfréd Radok Award. All this is quite a feat. Following a rocket
start, with their productions Massacre (Masakr) and Nickname,
SKUTR succeeded in finding a new direction for itself and a very
smooth style, the renown of which is spreading far.
Their most recent original project, The Weepers (Plačky),
inspired by Slavic folk traditions, has raised the question
of whether Kukučka and Trpišovský have perhaps reached
a crossroads in their work. It is as though previously they had
been coasting along a path that was too smooth and too easy.
They succeeded, faster than their peers in the same young
generation of directors, in creating a clear and unique style of
direction, and that style is now proving to be a gift and a curse
at the same time.
Within the Czech theatre scene SKUTR came up with an
authentic and confident mixture of different theatre genres –
the theatre of movement, drama, puppetry, with elements of
pantomime and circus performance. It is borne along mainly
by its strong musical feeling for a production’s rhythmic
structure, and it strongly emphasises the artistic conception of
a production. SKUTR varies its use of motifs, which are united by
a single dominant theme approached from different perspectives.
The duo’s masterful stage portrait of the inability of characters to
establish real contact with each other long seemed an appealing
feature of their work, but in time this feature acquired schematic
dimensions. From a theatrical perspective, even The Weepers
fails to offer much that is new. While SKUTR has reconfirmed its
skill at creating spectacular and physically (almost acrobatically)
impressive micro-situations out of the improvisations of the
performers, their distinctive style is becoming an end in itself
rather than a communicative medium, and it is beginning to give
the impression of acting as a kind of straitjacket.
At a performance of The Weepers, the programme tells
us that SKUTR was trying to create a live reference to Slavic
> Photo Tomáš Vodňanský
traditions clashing with the alienation of the modern world. At
the start of the performance we watch the death of a feeble old
man, played by Matij Solc, and the six young actors gathered
around him immediately begin to dance in whirls about the
stage. As is the custom with SKUTR, the group is made up of
a random mixture of lonely characters – a bride, a tramp, an
economist, a pregnant woman, and a young dandy. They meet
up in situations designed with one intention: to show that they
may actually have something in common. But given the theme
of the great clash between the traditional and the modern
worlds, this is hardly enough. Even the Weepers do not really
seem like women in mourning but simply like characters that
are on stage just to impress the audience with their musical
and physical talent in a few showy performance pieces.
This does not mean that The Weepers is a failed
production. The work is too well performed and too well
prepared for that. It just lacks any element of surprise,
and despite the assembly of micro-performances, songs,
and acrobatic tricks it falls short in expressing its theme.
Skutr: The Weepers. Directed by Skutr, set design Matěj
Němeček, costumes Daniela Klimešová, music Petr Kaláb.
Archa Theatre, Prague, premiere 20/9/2007.
9.7.2008 17:08:01
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KALEIDOSCOPE
Kateřina Kolářová
Vladimír Morávek Revisits Chekhov
and Dagmar Havlová Resumes Playing Classic Roles
B
oth cases alluded to in the title were a success.
success The
director Morávek and the actress Havlová came together
in a performance at Vinohrady Theatre (Divadlo na Vinohradech) of Chekhov’s masterpiece – The Cherry Orchard.
The production opens with the entry of governess Charlotte,
dressed up like a cabaret dancer, wearing a feather boa and
a stovepipe hat. An enchantress, and an ageless woman, Charlotte
also introduces The Cherry Orchard as though it were a cabaret
show: “Meine Damen und Herren, my name is Charlotte, but don’t
read anything into that!” During the play she provides onstage
commentary, observes the characters with ironic detachment, and
arrives on the scene in the end, cigarette in hand, like an elegant
reaper. It is like making a little excursion in a time machine, going
back just a few years: that is how the cycle “Chekhov for Czechs”
began, with Morávek bringing together productions of Three
Sisters, The Seagull, and Uncle Vanya. The cabaret environment
is an obvious allusion to the preceding opus, and perhaps its
symbolic conclusion. The principle of the cabaret (even more
decadent than before) is still appealing, and Jiřina Jirásková shines
with grace in the role of Charlotte. Nevertheless, in Morávek’s
previous Chekhovian triptych Charlotte served a function, as the
glue holding together the mosaic of characters and situations, but
here she is nothing more than a colourful little gem.
When the curtain rises in Vinohrady Theatre, the room in
the Ranevskaya household, excellently designed by Martin
Chocholoušek, is depicted in dark blue and in a strange perspective:
it is as though not just the cherry orchard was beeing chopped
down, but the entire house. From the start, the director denies both
the characters and the audience any sense of hope. The inhabitants
and visitors to the estate are like corpses brought to life through
their individual tics: the servant Dunyasha and her hiccups (Lucie
Juřičková), the jerky motions of the unlucky Epikhodov (Svatopluk
Skopal), or the shuffling walk of old Firs (Ilja Racek). Our sympathy
is awoken by the touchingly garrulous Gayev, played by Viktor
Preiss, who like a child closes himself away in an old cabinet.
However, the biggest surprise in this gallery of characters
is Lopakhin, brilliantly portrayed by Martin Stropnický, who
transformed the role beyond recognition. His Lopakhin looks like
a cripple, with a sunken chest, his head inclined permanently to
one side and on top of that rammed between his shoulders, and
with contorted hands, a shuffling walk, and a squeaky voice.
Here he was not — as he is usually played — the symbol of a new
predatory world, in which the incapacitated are squashed, but is
instead the same human wreck as all the others. When in the end
Lopakhin triumphs by purchasing the indebted estate, it is the
triumph of a pathetic wretch.
Lopakhin is in love with Madame Ranevskaya, played by Dagmar
Havlová-Veškrnová. And he’s not the only one. In this production
Madame Ranevskaya is a kind of goddess or cult figure, something
made obvious by all the busts of her image that the characters carry
around the stage instead of suitcases. Erect, majestic, always exquisite
in a stunning dress, almost to the point of being cold. It was as
though a canopy of ice lay across the entire first half of the premiere
performance. The emotions of the characters, especially their more
expressive attitudes, seemed somewhat mechanical and almost
artificial. However, after the intermission, these figurative ices broke.
If in the first half we were watching lifeless figures, the second part
portrays them in total agony. The lighting is even more cadaverous,
the costumes even more icy blue in tone, like Madame Ranevskaya’s
blue wig. The oppressive atmosphere that accompanies the wait for
the outcome of the auction is almost sickening in effect. Havlová is
excellent in these scenes: under the obvious pressure she flirts with
the stiff Trofimov, played by Jiří Dvořák, and she may even be a little
drunk. She is consumed by inner anxiety, and when the final verdict
comes down she clutches her throat, as though strangling herself.
She appears reconciled when she leaves, but then suddenly breaks
out in final, desperate hysterics.
Morávek’s interpretation of The Cherry Orchard bears all the
attributes of the director’s fingerprints, including the changing
bursts of sound. However, the director’s approach is not just in the
service of style but also shapes its interpretation, which unlike the
earlier Chekhovian trilogy is less grotesque and less saturated with
colour. Vinohrady Theatre did the right thing by taking a risk with
this director’s more expressive theatrical vision. Vinohrady needs
such forceful works. On top of that, the cast, backed by Morávek’s
own ensemble players, Pavla Tomicová and Ivana Uhlířová, as
guest performers, roused itself to an outstanding performance.
A. P. Chekhov: The Cherry Orchard. Translated by Leoš
Suchařípa, directed by Vladimír Morávek, set Martin Chocholoušek, costumes Sylva Hanáková, music Michal Pavlíček.
Vinohrady Theatre, Prague, premiere 5/2/2008.
9.7.2008 17:08:01
Notebook
Theatre Awards 2007
● The Alfréd Radok Awards
The Alfréd Radok Awards, which are handed out annually by
the Alfréd Radok Foundation based on the results of a survey
carried out by the magazine World & Theatre (Svět a divadlo),
were awarded for 2007 in the following categories:
Best Music
Vladimír Franz – music for the production of Dmitry
Merezhkovsky’s play The Death of Paul I, Brno City Theatre
(Městské divadlo Brno)
Talent of the Year
Production of the Year
Franz Kafka – The Trial (Proces), Prague Chamber Theatre –
Comedy Theatre (Pražské komorní divadlo – Divadlo Komedie),
Prague, directed by Dušan D. Pařízek
Dmitry Merezhkovsky – The Death of Paul I, Brno City Theatre
(Městské divadlo Brno), directed by Hana Burešová
John Millington Synge – The Playboy of the Western World,
Drama Club (Činoherní klub), Prague, directed by Ondřej
Sokol
Jiří Havelka, director
ÀHana Burešová
Best Actor
Martin Finger – Josef K. in the production of Franz Kafka’s
The Trial (Proces), Prague Chamber Theatre – Comedy Theatre
(Pražské komorní divadlo - Divadlo Komedie), Prague
Erik Pardus – Paul I in the production of Dmitry Merezhkovsky’s
play The Death of Paul I, Brno City Theatre (Městské divadlo
Brno)
Jaroslav Plesl – Christy Mahon in the production of John
Millington Synge’s The Playboy of the Western World, Drama
Club (Činoherní klub), Prague
¿Milan Uhde
Best Actress
Helena Dvořáková – title role in the production of Seneca’s
Phaedra, Theatre on Dlouhá Street (Divadlo v Dlouhé), Prague
ÀJiří Havelka
Theatre of the Year
Prague Chamber Theatre – Comedy Theatre (Pražské komorní
divadlo – Divadlo Komedie), Prague
Best Czech Play
Milan Uhde – Miracle in the Black House (Zázrak v černém
domě)
Best Stage Design
Matěj Forman – stage design for the musical by Jiří Suchý
and Jiří Šlitr A Walk Worthwhile (Dobře placená procházka),
National Theatre (Národní divadlo), Prague
Kristýna Täubelová – stage design for the production of Rudyard
Kipling’s Jungle Book, Minor Theatre (Divadlo Minor), Prague
¿Helena Dvořáková
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Theatre Awards 2007
● Thalia Awards 2007
Each year the Actors Association hands out Thalia Awards
in recognition of exceptional performances in the arts. The
following artists received awards for 2007:
ÀVlasta Chramostová
Drama
Simona Stašová – Evy Meara in the production of Neil Simon’s
The Gingerbread Lady, Antonín Dvořák Theatre (Divadlo
Antonína Dvořáka), Příbram
Erik Pardus – Paul I in the production of Dmitry Merezhkovsky’s
play The Death of Paul I, Theatre on Dlouhá Street (Divadlo
v Dlouhé), Prague
Opera
Anda-Louise Bogza – Minnie in the production of
Puccini’s opera La fanciulla del West (The Girl of the
Golden West), National Theatre (Národní divadlo), Prague
Gianluca Zampieri – Cyrano in the production of Franco
Alfano’s opera Cyrano de Bergerac, Moravian-Silesian
National Theatre (Národní divadlo moravskoslezské), Ostrava
¿Simona Stašová
Operetta, Musical, or Other Musical Drama
Pavla Břínková – Anhilta in the production of Emmerich
Kalmán’s The Csardas Princess (Die Csárdásfürstin), Karlín
Music Theatre (Hudební divadlo Karlín), Prague
Petr Štěpán – Darryl in the production of John Dempsey and
Dan Rowe’s The Witches of Eastwick, Municipal Theatre Brno
(Městské divadlo Brno)
ÀNikola Márová and Michal Štípa
Ballet, Pantomime and Other Dramatic Dance Genres
Nikola Márová - Odette/Odile in the production of Tchaikovsky’s
Swan Lake, State Opera Prague (Státní opera Praha)
Michal Štípa – lead role in the production of the opus by Jacques
Brel, Vladimir Vysockij, and Karel Kryl Solo for Three (Sólo pro
tři), National Theatre (Národní divadlo), Prague
Lifetime Achievement Awards
Ilja Racek (drama)
Václav Zítek (opera)
Jaroslav Čejka (ballet)
Special Award from the Thalia Award Committee
Vlasta Chramostová (actress)
Award for Young Artists under the Age of 33 in the
Field of Drama
¿Jaroslav Čejka
Michal Čapka
9.7.2008 17:11:54
NOTEBOOK
/97
New Books from the Theatre Institute
● František Černý:
Theatre within the Barriers of
Normalisation
(Divadlo v bariérách normalizace)
A collection of previously unpublished texts by this historian
and teacher (*1926). The book’s contents present readers with
familiar and less well-known information about the theatre
scene in the normalisation period. The author at times goes
beyond the limits of this period to provide more complex
insight into the phenomenon under observation. The book ties
in with two previous publications of the author’s memoirs (For
a Theatre Old and New, Karolinum 2005, In the Town by Three
Rivers, Oftis, Ústí n. Orl. 2005).
Published by the Theatre Institute in Prague, ISBN
978-80-7008-215-7, 202 pp.
● Jindřich Černý:
The Fate of Czech Theatre after the Second
World War: Czech Theatre and Society in
1945-1955
(Osudy českého divadla po druhé světové válce: České
divadlo a společnost v letech 1945-1955)
The book follows the history of Czech theatre in the first
decade after the Second World War, particularly in connection
with the country’s political and social transformation into
initially a pseudo-democratic state and from 1948 into
a totalitarian state. The author draws on his own experiences
in the theatre scene at that time and provides a systematic and
detailed description of each year. He describes the goals set
forth in communist propaganda and how individual theatres
responded to them, traces the reactions to productions in the
contemporary media, and tries hard to highlight the work of
artists who, in the very difficult conditions of a totalitarian
state, strove to preserve freedom of artistic expression. The
book is published by Academia in cooperation with the Theatre
Institute in Prague.
Published by Academia, ISBN 978-80-200-1502-0, 526 pp.
● Vlasta Koubská, Jiří Hilmera, Magda
Wagenknechtová, Martin Tröster:
Poet of the Stage Space
(Básník scénického prostoru)
The monograph focuses on the artistic work of scenographer
František Tröster (1904–1968), one of the leading figures in
9.7.2008 17:11:54
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NOTEBOOK
New Books from the Theatre Institute
Czech avant-garde theatre. Drawing on the authors’ own studies
the book grasps the artistic principles behind the creation of
Tröster’s exceptional works, which fundamentally changed the
nature of modern Czech and world scenography. The authors
describe Tröster’s set designs and collaboration with prominent
directors, and even his costume, architectural, and illustrative
work, his creative artwork, and finally also his work as a teacher,
whereby he helped train a number of excellent scenographers
that today rank among the best in their field. The publication
contains a voluminous appendix of illustrations (approx. 150
ill.), a list of Tröster’s works, and a list of exhibitions and
bibliographies on Tröster. The book is published in cooperation
with the Municipal House, where in 2007 an exhibition of
Tröster’s works was organised under the same title.
interview with the Forman brothers and the French director
Igor of Cabaret Theatre Dromesco. The second is more archival
and documentary in focus, tracing the early stages of work on
the boat and the performance. The third chapter is comprised
entirely of photographs by Irena Vodáková, who systematically
recorded the performances and the life around them from the
time of first nights.
Published by Torst in cooperation with the Theatre Institute and
the Forman Brothers’ Theatre, ISBN 978-80-7008-213-3, 289 pp.
Published by the Municipal House in Prague in cooperation
with the Theatre Institute and the National Museum, ISBN
978-80-86339-38-2, 189 pp.
● Purple Sails on the Mystery Boat
(Nachové plachty na lodi Tajemství)
This book, rich in artistic content, aimed at professionals and
the general public, follows the origin and the appearance of the
performance of Purple Sails (Nachové plachty) by the Forman
Brothers’ Theatre (Divadlo bratří Formanů) and the related
reconstruction of a pusher boat into the “Mystery” Boat theatre.
The book is divided into three chapters. The first contains a long
Czech Theatres in Numbers
In 2007 a total of 180 theatres and permanent groups of
artists regularly and consistently participated in theatre life in
the Czech Republic.
There are 50 repertoire theatres, each with its own
company/companies of various genres (13 of them have
more than one company, the usual model being based
on three companies: opera, drama and ballet). These
theatres receive regular grants from local and regional
budgets (44 theatres) and from the national budget
(3 theatres and 3 theatre schools). There are other 35
permanent stages without their own company, financed from
public funds (local budgets).
More than 2,7 milliard Czech crowns was provided from
public funds for the support of theatrical activity.
All the Czech theatres presented a total of 1 600 titles and
2 076 productions. 582 premieres were presented. A total of
25 785 performances took place in the Czech Republic
which were seen by more than 5,4 million theatre goers
(average attendance 80 %). The Czech companies gave 845
performances abroad.
NOTEBOOK
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/99
New Czech Plays in Repertory
● Magdalena Frydrychová
Dorothy (Dorotka)
Cast: 3 men, 2 women
Adela and Dorothy are orphans. Adela is thirty years old, and
she regularly goes to confession. Kryštof sings at church during
mass. Adela has no partner. The priest goes to the pub because
the people do not go to church. Kryštof would like to sing for
someone. Adela found a figurine of the Virgin Mary under the
bed. And Marek would like to be an astronomer. Everyone wants
to exist for someone. Everyone looks into the heavens at times.
But it is just so hard to believe in anything. One day Dorothy
witnesses a miracle. Something finally has to change.
A play set in a dead-end town on the road between the local
church and the pub.
● Kateřina Rudčenková
A Time of Cherry Smoke – a play partly
in dream (Čas třešňového dýmu – hra v polosnu)
Cast: 3 women
The play focuses on the theme of intergenerational
relationships between women in one family, their relationships
to men, the relationship between daughters and mothers, and
our relationship to our forbears, and on the theme of how
a predisposition to commit the same mistakes in marriage is
passed on from generation to generation within a family. The
play, written in poetic language, employs a tragicomic form
in an effort to describe the pressure that is put on women in
our society to be “real women”, to marry and have children,
and so on. The play unfolds on two levels. One is the level
of reality, where a daughter meets with her mother, and also
with her grandmother, who has returned from the afterlife to
help the mother and daughter achieve mutual reconciliation
and acceptance. The second is a dream level, and in a kind of
parallel to Beckett’s Waiting for Godot, three women are waiting
to be married. The three women are the “heroines” of fairytales
and children’s images of “real women”: Cinderella, Snow
White, and Sleeping Beauty. They are waiting in vain to marry,
no grooms or wedding guests are coming, and instead the
characters undergo a symbolic transformation into mysterious
androgynous creatures. The play was created during the
author’s residency at the Royal Court Theatre in London, and it
was a finalist in the drama category of the Alfréd Radok Awards
for 2007.
● David Drábek
Mašín Brothers Square (Náměstí bratří Mašínů)
Cast: 19 men, 10 women
(but it can be staged with a smaller cast)
The play’s subtitle, “A Play of Inertia”, is an apt description
of the latest play by David Drábek. The heroes are stuck in the
stagnant waters of their own worthless and absurd existences,
from which they cannot be saved even by death, however
seductive it may be. Vendelín, a disabled old man, is a failure
as a lover, husband, father and grandfather, and a failure as
an inspector for the Prague public transit system, and even the
very reason for his disability is humiliating. Rita, a Jehovah’s
Witness, is lonely, and not entirely normal, just like Jeroným,
a homeless man who sells copies of The Big Issue on the street; the
singer Zapík, with his pseudo-English and open-necked shirt, is
a mangy relic from the normalisation years, and even the other
characters are not doing very well, nor are their lives particularly
dignified. In the first part, called “Czech Grief”, excerpts
drawn from the lives of these characters become intertwined
at a masquerade ball that the characters attend strangely
disguised as animals and plants, where comically awkward
scenes are punctuated by fantastical encounters with a Swan
woman, death, into whose arms Vendelín tries in vain to fall.
The second part of the play, called “Czech Sea”, initially
seems like a realistic situation in a hijacked streetcar,
where an unidentified terrorist is holding the passengers.
It gradually comes out that almost all of them are connected
with Vendelín the Terrorist, who is demanding to be taken
to Mašín Brothers Square. No hero’s death in an exploding
streetcar or kiss from the Swan woman awaits Vendelín;
instead, what lies before him is regaining consciousness in an
intensive care unit, his wife Petra, stagnant waters, and inertia.
The play came in second in the drama category of the Alfréd
Radok Awards for 2007.
These texts are available in electronic format from the agency
Dilia.
● Helmut Kuhl (alias René Levínský)
Harila
Cast: 5 men, 1 woman, 1 gorilla (1 man or 1 woman)
Comedy – grotesque
A trio of male punkers, Karl-Heinz, Giovanne and Rudi, one
female punker Elsa, and their German shepherd dog Šaryk, all of
them living on the fringe of society, penniless and unemployed,
but in a state of inebriation they decide to do a good deed – to free
Kisoro the gorilla from the zoo and allow her to experience her
first menstruation in freedom, because they feel it is degrading
for her to be during her period enclosed in a cage while being
gazed at by a bunch of bourgeois and their well-behaved
children. The act is a success, and the gorilla, drunk to the gills,
sits in the car heading who knows where with the four stoned
punkers. Morning comes, alone with hangovers and a surprise
– they’ve travelled as far as Bodam Lake, and what’s more, after
a night of foreplay in the car, Kisoro and Rudi unleash their full
sexual passion for each other. Giovanne leaves them to drive
9.7.2008 17:11:56
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into town to find something to eat and returns with a laptop and
a video camera that he stole from someone’s car. Karl-Heinz
examines the contents of the laptop, and the pornographic
materials they find in it lead the protagonists to come up with
an original idea to make some money – Kisoro and Rudi will get
it on in front of the camera, and online customers will be able to
watch this spectacle for a fee at www.fuckthegorilla.com.
A mysterious businessman by the name of Tichý offers
a considerable sum of money for the entire show and for
Kisoro. The punkers are faced with a moral dilemma – on the
one hand, they freed Kisoro, but on the other hand, they could
get some money for her. They opt for the profit, and for that
they are punished in a fashion that almost seems borrowed
from an ancient tragedy – the deal is to be closed in the middle
of Bodam Lake on a raft, but everything is resolved with the
arrival of a shark as a kind of deus ex machina. A symbolic
epilogue follows: in the light of the rising sun, Kisoro and Šaryk
run to each other across the beach and then happily begin to
copulate…
The dialogue of the punkers is extremely vulgar in mock
exaggeration and alongside the main plot it is a source of the
play’s absurd and dark humour. The play can be, but does not
have to be, interpreted as a grotesque parody about four punkers
who decide to do good but morally disappoint.
In 2007 the play won a Theatre News (Divadelní noviny)
award for alternative theatre. A Russian translation of the play
as Garila (there also exists a German translation, Harrila) won
an honourable mention in February 2008 in Belarus as part
of the third international Free Theatre competition. The play
was first staged by the company Good Little Bears (Nejhodnější
medvídci) and the Brno Theatre At 7 and a Half (V sedm
a půl).
newspaper Yuck, drop by to prepare a long, stock-taking type
of interview with Rieger. A young novelist named Bea comes to
see Rieger, whom she admires, to get him to sign his most recent
book of speeches for her. Hanuš, Rieger’s former secretary,
conscientiously sorts through the villa’s inventory to protect
Rieger from potential accusations of having kept something
that is state property, while Hanuš’s former secretary Viktor
gradually and inconspicuously becomes Rieger’s link to the
emerging government establishment. The new government is
represented by Vlastík Klein, by all appearances a hard-nosed
businessman, who is very concerned about the fate of the villa.
However, Rieger obtains the most up-to-date information from
the gardener, Knobloch (“The boys in the pub were talking
about the move...”). The devastating news is soon confirmed:
Rieger’s family must move out of the villa. This piece of news
sets off the visible disintegration of Rieger’s “court”, which
however has secretly been going on already for some time.
In Leaving – like in the play Redevelopment (Asanace),
completed twenty years ago – Havel constructs an artificial
(and melancholily entertaining) theatrical world. It is an
ironic reckoning with the departing first post-communist
political establishment and a scathing look at the rise of the
subsequent real-capitalist generation, and at the same time
it is punctuated with playful references to Chekhov’s The
Cherry Orchard and Shakespeare’s King Lear. The theatricality
of the text is underscored by the constant presence of the
author’s Voice, giving directorial instructions and adding
self-ironic comments on dramatic technique and its limits.
● Václav Havel
Leaving (Odcházení)
Cast: 6 men, 7 women, 1 boy, extras
Directly commissioned by The National Helena Modrzejewska Old Theatre in Krakow, Petr Zelenka, now the most
popular playwright in all of Poland, wrote his latest play
Exoneration. The play’s world premiere took place on 27 October
2007, directed by the author, translated by Krystyna Krauz,
and staged at the small stage beneath Wawel Royal Castle. The
Old Theatre has exclusive world rights to the play for eighteen
months. The Czech premiere (or premieres elsewhere) will be
able to take place no earlier than 27 May 2009.
The play follows two storylines. The main one is the story of
a writer named Jacek, whose conscience is burdened by a crime
he committed – “in a sudden abandonment of his faculties” he
sedated and raped the eleven-year-old son of his friends. The
second is the story of the gradual demise of a television talk
show called “Exoneration”, in which well-known and respected
people openly confess their sins. Jacek’s publisher, in whom he
confided about his guilt, wants Jack to go on the show. Any kind of
media attention could help sell Jack’s latest book. After an inner
struggle Jack applies to appear on the programme and everyone
A Play in Five Acts
Cast: 11 men, 6 women, a voice
The first play written by Václav Havel after a twenty-year
hiatus, the drama takes us into the household of Dr. Vilém Rieger,
who is on his way out of politics. His electoral term is evidently
up, and a question mark hangs over his continued residence in
the government villa surrounded by a cherry orchard. It is also
clear that neither Rieger nor those around him, firmly under
the control of his long-time girlfriend Irena, have given much
thought to an alternative life. The day-to-day life of the wider
family only rarely departs from its standard routine. Alongside
Irena, there is her retiring friend Monika, household assistant
Osvald, and Rieger’s younger daughter Zuzana, constantly
preoccupied by electronic communication in the world of her
generation. Other characters also pass through the home. The
journalists Jack and Bob, employees of the ubiquitous daily
● Petr Zelenka
Exoneration (Očištění)
9.7.2008 17:11:56
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that figured in his deed receive advance warning before the
broadcast. During the regular course of the show he again goes
through that fateful evening in his imagination. He leaves the
television studio prepared to bear the consequences of his act.
To his surprise he finds that nothing happens, the programme
he appeared in was recorded and that evening another episode
was broadcast. Events – outwardly auspicious – begin to push
the protagonist into a destructive void of cynicism. In the end
the programme is never aired (the editor-in-chief divorces the
show’s moderator). The show is shopped and Jacek becomes
embroiled in legal struggles after the show fails to air, finds
himself comfortably at home in television and becomes the
author of a new and much more cynical, hard-core talk show
called Wet Sponge. At a party to celebrate its success he is finally
struck by a more reckoning, but it is clearly to late to stop him:
when he tells his story as the fictional idea for a new book, his
intention succumbs to the harsh judgement of moral authority
– any story in which the hero is not interested in exoneration is
not worth writing. In today’s world of hollow media any kind of
scandal can become an item in the advertising market and its
advertising value overshadows the moral dimension altogether.
Jacek’s crime thus remains unpunished.
NOTEBOOK
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Exhibition on the Stage:
Reflections on the 2007
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edited by Arnold Aronson
The PQ 07, International Exhibition of Scenography and Theatre
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ISBN 978-80-7008-219-5
DVD: Prague Quadrennial
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collaborative student project, Scenofest.
9.7.2008 17:11:56

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