Péter Konok: Rooting Hog
We have laughed a lot at our death.
The theatre hall with a size of a bigger living room was full, there are chairs, smaller spare chairs, even smaller ones, I would not like to sit on any of them, there are not breaks. Richard enters (he enters where we – the viewers of today, the overused veterans of our wars of roses – have done before) and – special V-effect – he has started a slightly familiar speech. I have met for the first time Ede Szigligeti’s translation of Richard III, my mind has been working for a while to connect to the fast coming lines István Vas’ etalon translation, then I give it up, for a while – similarly to a Russian great novel – I am fighting with the problem of who is who, when a man is at home in his dream, but then everything is different. Then I realise: why? They will all die according to their right order.
The choice of this Szigligeti-text was excellent, it can guarantee that we take attention to it, and it is genius anyway. The translation of “rooting hog”, well a man would kill for that kind of word. As it will happen many times during the evening, there is not any fault in connection with it. They kill and die. For words. For words too.
That Richard, the intellectual clown, the great psychologist, the narcissistic compensator, the Nemesis of all, the terrible strike of fate, how double-entendre can be, there is nothing surprising in it. It is always double-entendre. Kreon the pop star. The troupe of Maladype march through this political dance of death with overwhelming momentum. Zoltán Balázs is very similar to Coppola’s frantically charming Dracula, as Murnau (or Brook, or Anybody of the morality mysteries) comments, enjoys, raves thorough from his metal podium this wild debate day of the parliament. The tohuwabohu, covered with plush blankets, are buzzing around, under and above him, I am not a theatrical critic, from my chair everybody seems to be perfect. I give myself in Szigligeti’s text, or in the Shakespeare rap, which can be heard from time to time, in the touchingly stylized characters.
At the end, I always hope (a little bit): someone could give a damn horse to Richard for sure. Or at least a helicopter. As here he is the fate himself. “He has decided” to be a villain. “Has he done it?” Shakespeare did not care a lot about free will. He did not believe in things like that. Everybody dies and we clap happily. It all has done, that is all.
Let’s watch Richard by Maladype, if you can! Our fate is an excellent fun.
Péter Konok, Huppa.hu, 2016
(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)
The theatre hall with a size of a bigger living room was full, there are chairs, smaller spare chairs, even smaller ones, I would not like to sit on any of them, there are not breaks. Richard enters (he enters where we – the viewers of today, the overused veterans of our wars of roses – have done before) and – special V-effect – he has started a slightly familiar speech. I have met for the first time Ede Szigligeti’s translation of Richard III, my mind has been working for a while to connect to the fast coming lines István Vas’ etalon translation, then I give it up, for a while – similarly to a Russian great novel – I am fighting with the problem of who is who, when a man is at home in his dream, but then everything is different. Then I realise: why? They will all die according to their right order.
The choice of this Szigligeti-text was excellent, it can guarantee that we take attention to it, and it is genius anyway. The translation of “rooting hog”, well a man would kill for that kind of word. As it will happen many times during the evening, there is not any fault in connection with it. They kill and die. For words. For words too.
That Richard, the intellectual clown, the great psychologist, the narcissistic compensator, the Nemesis of all, the terrible strike of fate, how double-entendre can be, there is nothing surprising in it. It is always double-entendre. Kreon the pop star. The troupe of Maladype march through this political dance of death with overwhelming momentum. Zoltán Balázs is very similar to Coppola’s frantically charming Dracula, as Murnau (or Brook, or Anybody of the morality mysteries) comments, enjoys, raves thorough from his metal podium this wild debate day of the parliament. The tohuwabohu, covered with plush blankets, are buzzing around, under and above him, I am not a theatrical critic, from my chair everybody seems to be perfect. I give myself in Szigligeti’s text, or in the Shakespeare rap, which can be heard from time to time, in the touchingly stylized characters.
At the end, I always hope (a little bit): someone could give a damn horse to Richard for sure. Or at least a helicopter. As here he is the fate himself. “He has decided” to be a villain. “Has he done it?” Shakespeare did not care a lot about free will. He did not believe in things like that. Everybody dies and we clap happily. It all has done, that is all.
Let’s watch Richard by Maladype, if you can! Our fate is an excellent fun.
Péter Konok, Huppa.hu, 2016
(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)