Last year, Ákos Orosz, a member of the Maladype Theatre, received the Soós Imre Debut Award from the MASZK National Actors' Association.

- What interested you before theatre?

- Singing, music. I started with the harmonica – I still play it when I have time; then I also played guitar and drums. I didn’t learn music formally, everything I know I learned by myself, so I’m not really good at any instrument. However, singing and music represent unconditional freedom for me. I played in several bands before, but now I don’t have time to rehearse with a band anymore. With the Naked Trackers, the friendship is the most important connection, but if I go to a club where they're playing, I always bring my harmonica and join in. The audience dances, and we all have a good time.

- Do you get to use this skill enough in theatre? Doesn’t it remain underutilized?

- When there’s music in the performance, we make it. Kornél Mogyoró, a permanent member of Maladype Theatre, works with us using his wide-ranging musical knowledge – for example, in Leonce and Lena, music accompanies the entire performance, to which we add our own rhythm and songs. These are carefully crafted details of the production. Music, beyond itself, also helps a performance significantly, as it determines the rhythm of the scenes. Even a dialogue has its own dynamic and rhythm. This can be consciously built. Or where I can use my musical skills: in our performance Egg(s)Hell, which is based on improvisation within given rules, we prepared it to the music of Ravel and various light music styles. In Platonov and The Marriage of Figaro, I play the harmonica, and in Figaro, I accompany Cherubino’s romance on the guitar. In Inferno, several musicians are involved: we have to collaborate with taiko drumming and percussion instruments. Of course, even a performance without music has its own musicality, which must be felt – how the piece doesn’t fall apart simply because everyone is doing everything on time.

- Maladype’s performances operate with great actor dedication and precision, and in my impression, they are quite formalistic. Isn’t this limiting for an actor?

- Quite the opposite. Of course, I can speak about what I know, from the three years I’ve spent in this company so far. My first work with Zoltán Balázs was Leonce and Lena. After our shared analysis, we started working by being sent in pairs to create scenes. The only limitation was that the space should be empty, and we could only use bamboo sticks. It’s important to have a concept, a guiding principle to think within, but beyond that, Zoltán Balázs was curious about us. He refined and supplemented our ideas, our message. Then we continued to develop the completed scenes. This is how we also started with improvisations in King Ubu, Platonov, Lorenzaccio, and The Marriage of Figaro.

- However, these performances have a conservative approach towards the audience. One still sits down, like in a traditional theatre, watches, and claps at the end, right?

- I completely disagree with that. First of all, we have a program series, Free Academy, which takes place twice a month. In this series, we invite open-minded, curious, thinking contemporary individuals working in theatre and other art forms, with whom anyone can have informal discussions on a given topic. And we’ve done something no one has done in Hungary: the rehearsals for King Ubu were completely open, anyone could come in. And they did: thirty to forty people came every evening. It had to be organized in advance because there was more interest than the space could accommodate. They read, played, and focused with us, so their ideas and their time became part of the performance. And when they come to see a performance and say something wasn’t good, it’s authentic because they know exactly what they’re talking about. In Inferno, we work with twenty-five civilians, but not in the same way as with Ubu – they will perform in the show too. They’re extremely disciplined and very attentive. Looking back on Ubu, during the open rehearsal process, only a few journalists were interested, and aside from a couple of puppet theatre colleagues, we didn’t see many theatre professionals. The critics come to a performance – like you’re saying now, that our relationship with the audience is conservative – and base their opinions on that. Those who are genuinely interested in what we’re doing won’t miss an open rehearsal or our work with civilians. After all, this is a significant part of the performances and, not least, a huge commitment on our part.

- Maybe I haven’t paid enough attention to Maladype.

- In any case, many people are interested: fortunately, many have shown interest in our attempts so far. Besides that, we also go to schools, we’ve been invited at least fifty times, and we’ve been happy to go. Our own venue, the Maladype Base, is a spacious bourgeois apartment, which, whether we intend it or not, brings together the performers and the audience in one space. There have been times when someone started to leave during a performance, we addressed them, and it led to a conversation. This is not a conservative relationship with the audience.

- It’s not. Let’s talk about the Inferno performance. Why is this material interesting now?

- This is the first part of Dante’s Divine Comedy, and later we plan to stage Purgatorio and Paradiso as well. Very simplistically, it’s a journey. The company is ten years old, and it’s the right time to summarize what we’ve done so far. Dante’s curiosity applies to us too: just as he searches for himself and his fellow humans, this search is present in every member of our company. We worked extensively with the texts because we had to engage deeply with the whole play, using two translations – those of Mihály Babits and Ádám Nádasdy – along with some guest texts. In this season, in addition to Mari Törőcsik, we are also working with Andrea Ladányi, which is a great honor for us as debutants.

- You play Lucifer in the performance, quite an extraordinary role.

- No. Lucifer argues, asks questions, subtly tempts Dante: he has to be clever, not evil. He tempts everyone, and he’s present in everyone in some form. I don’t say anything that can’t be defended, I’m willing to own everything.

- It’s obvious that you love being on stage. Is there ever a moment when you feel uncomfortable?

- Not exactly on stage, but it’s related: I dislike the half hour before the performance begins the most. My adrenaline is already high, I’m impatient, maybe I’m rushing, but this passes once I step onto the stage. There, I’m doing my job, and I feel as free as I never feel anywhere else in life.

Lilla Proics, kultura.hu, 2012

Translation by Zsuzsanna Juraszek