Eelmisel nädalal toimus taas FIT Mobile Labi kokkusaamine, sedakorda Helsingis Baltic Circle raames. Kuivõrd tegemist on teatrikriitikute seminariga, siis sel korral uurisime, kuidas kriitikale mitteomaseid zhanre siiski ära kasutada. Meie grupp seadis lähteülesandeks kriitika näidendivormis. Panen oma teksti siia üles, ülejäänud artiklid leiab Baltic Circle kodulehelt nende netiajakirjast DramAgora. Püüan lähiajal ka muud nähtud lavastused artikliks kirjutada.
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We see Tusenbach. He yells out. Anybody there? Silence. Hello! Anyone? Stumbles on something. Oh, I´m sorry! Didn´t see you there. The nights in the desert really are dark, aren´t they? Silence. I´m disturbing you, sorry. I always do that, you know – get in the way of people. Irina says so. Silence. It´s hard just to sit there, saying nothing, isn´t it? Silence. I guess you disagree. That´s fine too, I mean not fine too, that is just fine, everybody has a right to an opinion. Did I insult you? Silence. I did not mean to. It´s just that I feel like being on air in Radio Doomsday sitting here in the desert. Do you know “Radio Doomsday”? It´s a piece by Houkka Brothers. Kristian Smeds? Juha Valkeapää? No? Silence. They have this trilogy about Christian saints and the last part is called “Radio Doomsday”. They ask people to come and join them in a small tent on stage which was like their studio, and talk about religion. I mean, it´s a sensitive topic – religion, isn´t it? But they managed to create an atmosphere where you felt like you´re visiting a friend. That you´re really part of a performance. Many directors pretend to involve the audience but they don´t treat them as equal, you know? Houkka Brothers do. Sitting in that tent, I felt like I had a responsibility to be as interesting as I could. I am a rather boring person, Irina always says so, but you kind of want your arguments to be bold and your comments to be witty. Silence. Sorry, I am boring you. Silence. It´s just that I don´t want to be someone who sits in theatre like a piece of furniture. I want to talk back, react, you know? I´m not some kind of machine you can switch on and off: lights go down and you have to shut up and sit there till the performance is over and you can be alive again. People usually don´t take me seriously, they think I´m weak. Maybe they´re right, but I don´t like to be bullied, you can´t have a dialogue when one part has all the power. That is dictatorship. There´s enough of that in everyday life anyway, you´re always told what to do or think – by politicians, store managers, theatre critics. In theatre I want to be a human being. Silence. I do understand your point of view as well. It´s dangerous to say what you really think, it may have consequences in real life. No-one has a problem differentiating between an actor and his role but when a spectator says something on stage, he can´t possibly be performing. Why not? Smeds also said before going on air that you can choose to be yourself or create a fictional character but somehow I think you are always performing when there are other people watching you. Like in “Radio Doomsday”. Just some people went to the tent to talk about their personal relationship with God and others sat and listened. Actually I don´t think you got everything out of the performance if you didn´t speak up. Sure, people could walk in and out but being silent was the same as sitting in the dark theatre hall waiting for a curtain to go up. Silence. Are you still there? Silence. Did I scare you away? Reaches out. Oh, you´re still here. Good. It wouldn´t be the same talking to yourself, would it? Silence. You are very quiet. Is it because I´m boring? Or that you don´t like theatre? Do you even speak English? Can you speak at all? Silence. We all carry deserts around with us, you know? You speak but no-one really listens. Even Irina. That´s why we´re so thirsty all the time. Thirsty for some sincere attention. For someone to be interested. For other people. I forgot that desert sitting in the tent of “Radio Doomsday” and I wasn´t thirsty any more and it wasn´t because of the beer they offered me. I don´t even like beer but opened one anyway. And enjoyed it. That´s what theatre should be all about – making me drink beer and enjoy it. It sounds silly, I know. Silence. You won´t speak to me, will you? That´s okay, you don´t have to. I got to go anyway. You wouldn´t happen to have a bottle of water, would you? Silence. Of course not. Silence. It was nice talking to you. Thank you for listening. Yes, at least thank you for that. He starts to stand up and accidentally touches the other. Light goes on. He has switched on the lamp he has been talking to. He looks at it. Silence. Curtains down. He switches the lamp off.
***
We see Tusenbach. He yells out. Anybody there? Silence. Hello! Anyone? Stumbles on something. Oh, I´m sorry! Didn´t see you there. The nights in the desert really are dark, aren´t they? Silence. I´m disturbing you, sorry. I always do that, you know – get in the way of people. Irina says so. Silence. It´s hard just to sit there, saying nothing, isn´t it? Silence. I guess you disagree. That´s fine too, I mean not fine too, that is just fine, everybody has a right to an opinion. Did I insult you? Silence. I did not mean to. It´s just that I feel like being on air in Radio Doomsday sitting here in the desert. Do you know “Radio Doomsday”? It´s a piece by Houkka Brothers. Kristian Smeds? Juha Valkeapää? No? Silence. They have this trilogy about Christian saints and the last part is called “Radio Doomsday”. They ask people to come and join them in a small tent on stage which was like their studio, and talk about religion. I mean, it´s a sensitive topic – religion, isn´t it? But they managed to create an atmosphere where you felt like you´re visiting a friend. That you´re really part of a performance. Many directors pretend to involve the audience but they don´t treat them as equal, you know? Houkka Brothers do. Sitting in that tent, I felt like I had a responsibility to be as interesting as I could. I am a rather boring person, Irina always says so, but you kind of want your arguments to be bold and your comments to be witty. Silence. Sorry, I am boring you. Silence. It´s just that I don´t want to be someone who sits in theatre like a piece of furniture. I want to talk back, react, you know? I´m not some kind of machine you can switch on and off: lights go down and you have to shut up and sit there till the performance is over and you can be alive again. People usually don´t take me seriously, they think I´m weak. Maybe they´re right, but I don´t like to be bullied, you can´t have a dialogue when one part has all the power. That is dictatorship. There´s enough of that in everyday life anyway, you´re always told what to do or think – by politicians, store managers, theatre critics. In theatre I want to be a human being. Silence. I do understand your point of view as well. It´s dangerous to say what you really think, it may have consequences in real life. No-one has a problem differentiating between an actor and his role but when a spectator says something on stage, he can´t possibly be performing. Why not? Smeds also said before going on air that you can choose to be yourself or create a fictional character but somehow I think you are always performing when there are other people watching you. Like in “Radio Doomsday”. Just some people went to the tent to talk about their personal relationship with God and others sat and listened. Actually I don´t think you got everything out of the performance if you didn´t speak up. Sure, people could walk in and out but being silent was the same as sitting in the dark theatre hall waiting for a curtain to go up. Silence. Are you still there? Silence. Did I scare you away? Reaches out. Oh, you´re still here. Good. It wouldn´t be the same talking to yourself, would it? Silence. You are very quiet. Is it because I´m boring? Or that you don´t like theatre? Do you even speak English? Can you speak at all? Silence. We all carry deserts around with us, you know? You speak but no-one really listens. Even Irina. That´s why we´re so thirsty all the time. Thirsty for some sincere attention. For someone to be interested. For other people. I forgot that desert sitting in the tent of “Radio Doomsday” and I wasn´t thirsty any more and it wasn´t because of the beer they offered me. I don´t even like beer but opened one anyway. And enjoyed it. That´s what theatre should be all about – making me drink beer and enjoy it. It sounds silly, I know. Silence. You won´t speak to me, will you? That´s okay, you don´t have to. I got to go anyway. You wouldn´t happen to have a bottle of water, would you? Silence. Of course not. Silence. It was nice talking to you. Thank you for listening. Yes, at least thank you for that. He starts to stand up and accidentally touches the other. Light goes on. He has switched on the lamp he has been talking to. He looks at it. Silence. Curtains down. He switches the lamp off.
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