2. Kálmán Mikszáth Square, I. second floor. The abject Maladype troupe performs there Beaumarchais’ comedy, The Marriage of Figaro, staging by Sándor Zsótér in a rented flat of three rooms and a hall. About 48 viewers can come in here.

The viewers get uncomfortable places on foldable picnic chairs or benches of P.E. classrooms. The performance must be very good to worth taking the painkiller. There is not any complaints. The armchairs of other theatres are tight as Spanish boots, in comparison with Mária Ambrus’, the set designer’s seats, which are organised in a minimalist way. (Kosztolányi wrote in one of his language improving text: “who know what not to tell, those partly know what to tell”. It is true for Mária Ambrus.) According to the story, door are closed, they try to open doors forcefully. In theatres, the set imitates earthquake this time. Here real doors stand in for double doors. They perform well behaved.

Mari Benedek designs the costumes. The countess’ trained dress – which Judit Kovács Ligeti with majestic gracefulness pulls after herself as the embodiment of the feudalism, condensed in a material – and the gardener, Antonio’s specially made straw hat are spectacular solos of the designer.

Júlia Ungár’s translation is a cheekily fresh theatrical text. Beaumarchais’ play works as a precise machine. All sentences works dramatically. The play was formed by using the character schemas of Italian comedies. It is usually performed that way too. The performers of Maladype get deep into their roles. They bring up from the depth the truth of the characters. With their artistic inventions, sense and feelings they can make rich their speeches, they get far away of theatrical clichés, of the so called “usual performance”.

Ákos Orosz gets the role of Figaro. He is not similar to Figaro. He is Figaro. He is the lover intriguer. He mix everything innocently. He can lie honestly. He enjoys, that the moving lines are in his hand. The kindness of his personality can make his tricks and lies appealing, his intrigues with the help of which together with his fast thinking, he can get out of dire situations. His Figaro does not solve ready situations with canned solutions. He is thinking during the performance. The viewers can follow the appearance of his tricks. Selma is the one, who mixes the situations. He enjoys his mental superiority. He is the usual servant of his ruler, but he is fighting only for the fulfilment of love. His great monologue - originally in the V. act - ,which he tells in the trap of jealousy, is Figaro’s resume: Ákos Orosz does not wink with the contemporary political issues at his viewers, as it is fashionable nowadays, but he confesses an educated person’s troubled problems. The monologue talks about the disadvantages of constant pushing of common sense into background instead of the chastushka-actuality.

Ádám Tompa’s count Almaviva with his clear look, he seems to be the amoroso, who goes against the stoned old ones in The Barber from Seville. He is not an unrepentant tyrant. He is full of with his love desires. He is ready to cheat, but he is also a husband, who is suffering from jealousy.

Judit Kovács Ligeti, is the countess, who is usually pushed into the background by Suzanne, in other performances. Here she can bring into surface the hidden waves of the role, her temptations and the saved Rosina’s purity. She is a beautiful, erotic, witty, clever actor.

Erika Tankó’s Suzanne is a gritty and self-confident girl, who is ready to get married, and to fight for her happiness. Kamilla Fátyol (Fanchette) is the silly character. She is a silly young girl, but she is clever enough for herself. Zsolt Páll’s doctor Bartholo is a frightening figure. He gives the possibility for the comedy to become suddenly a dark horror play, if his anger became free. Zoltán Lendváczky’s drunken gardener leaves the ordinary expressions of drunken ones. His eyes are half closed. He almost falls asleep during his actions. He is a corrupt stupid judge – Ungár named him as Brid'oison, Don Believing Young Lady, according to Gyula Illyés’ translation he is the Don Guzman y Simpleton –he is over eagerly stupid, he is deaf in connection with the whole world, except for himself.

Argumentation, which cannot be connected to theatre, takes usually care about the age of the actors, who performs some roles. The truth is, that all actors, if they are real ones, have the age of the role. Zénó Faragó, who comes from Temesvár, is a tall, young man, with characteristic face. It is a brave thing to give him the role of the squire, Chérubin (Cherubin d'amore), instead of Count Dracula or Ferdinand von Walter, who can be matched to Faragó easily. The grim looking actor, without any charming sweetness, without smile and strictly can die because of all female beauty, and the wearer of the skirt can be an old lady, fresh teenager or a matured woman. His love attacks are reflected in his look. In the depth of his admirer attacking there is scared fear, the despair of falling behind.

So the performing characters of Figaro can deepen their roles.

At the head of them, we can see Törőcsik’s Marceline as her benefit performance to the viewers. If she does tell, that she has performed the role in Iglódi’s staging, I do not remember any moment of it. Between the youngsters of Maladype, the thin actor, with the power of a tank group, is the malicious intrigue, the old one, who is eager for love, the litigant with sword, the feminist fighter, the soften mother and the loud comic character, who can counterpoint grotesquely the happiness of a family. She is a female encyclopaedia. In every moment, she can suddenly enthrone herself. Törőcsik is a reward only for the viewers, as a senior one, she does not perform a benefit performance. She is a devoted team player. She is presented in other rhythm than the young one. Maybe I can tell that she performs more youthfully than they do.

During the night scenes of the last act, the director does not make naturalistic darkness. He marks the changings of lighting. In 1955, coming from Paris, the Opera from Beijing made a guest appearance in Budapest, who were working in their ancient beauty that time: they performed their fantastic silent play: in the pub by the road, the opponents, who could not see one another in the darkness, were fighting with sharp swords, under the full lighting of the stage. The ancient theatre has thought to European ones, that the real darkness is the result of the actors’ inner blindness, and not of the work of the lighters.

Zsótér’s staging could enlighten Beaumarchais. Instead of its actualization he proves its eternality.

Péter Gál Molnár, szinhaz.hu, 2010

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)