Zsigmond Móricz

I Can't Live Without Music

Main stage

Balázs, landowner
Loránd Farkas
Pólika, his wife
Éva Imre
Auntie Zsani
Emőke Kató
Auntie Pepi
Csilla Albert
Auntie Mina
Imola Kézdi
Uncle Lajos
Ervin Szűcs
Rita Sigmond
Veronika, happy widow
Enikő Györgyjakab
Auntie Teréz, her mother
Andrea Vindis
Viktor, jurist from Budapest
Zsolt Vatány
Auntie Málcsi, her mother
Zsuzsanna Pákai
First dame
Réka Zongor
Second dame
Réka Nagy Pál
Third dame
Patrícia Puzsa
Fourth dame
Alíz Incze
First gent
András Buzási
Second gent
Csongor Köllő
Borcsa, the cooking lady
Andrea Kali / Krisztina Bíró
Zsuzsi, maid
Júlia Bíró
Gergő, old coachman
Ferenc Sinkó
Peták, do-all
Levente Molnár
Kati, maid
Enikő Molnár
Mircse, gipsy musician
Attila Pál
Mrs Kisvicák
Csilla Varga
Pista, stripling
Csaba Marosán
Auntie Mariska
Brigitta Nánási
Gazsi, clarinettist
Péter Árus
Lali, bassist
Szabolcs Balla

directed by
András Hatházi
set design
Carmencita Brojboiu
costume design
Eszter György
Eszter György
stage manager
Imola Kerezsy

Date of the opening: May 17, 2013
Date of creation: 17 May 2013

Duration: 3 hours with one intermission

It’s not certain that what we say, is what there is.
It’s not certain that it’s good to know something beforehand.
Everything changes, but especially us.
The personality, or at least how we think of it, is not a homogeneous, unchangeable entity, but merely a dynamic, situation-dependent, ever changing guard-rail that we create in self-defense against the world outside us. (And there is a special luck and virtue in our creating it. We could have a chance to participate in the future discovery and development of our essence! I tend to think that we learn forms of conduct by close observation; we refine the patterns of others, shaping them, tailoring them for ourselves.) Consequently, there’s no single I, and we can never say that we are whom we think we are. It’s true that we react in a unique way to never-changing human situations, but eventually we come to do so mechanically. But, whenever we lose our balance a little bit, we instantly panic and consider our situation to be extreme. We “lose” our “personality”, we “turn inside out” and, dragging our whole existence into danger, we desperately try to fill the gap through which the outside world may find a way toward us. Anything can threaten us – a sudden fatal event, or falling in love – but regardless of how we live the moment, positively or negatively, we’ll suddenly have the option to react differently. Suddenly we experience freedom.
In my interpretation, this is what theatre events are about. About people who suddenly find themselves in situations where their automatic behavior loses its meaning and they are forced to act in an unusual way by things going on around them and affecting them immediately. At such times categories do not exist a priori, but a posteriori. The situation can be evaluated only at a later point and participants in the event can be characterized as being this and that only after getting through it. But this belongs to the past, and theatre’s time is exclusively the now, the unpossessable – in the full sense of the word – present.
So then, how could this still be possible?
I don’t know.
In any case, this is not what I expected regarding Muzsikaszó...

András Hatházi