In 1626, Gábor Bethlen built a castle and a larger customs house on the border between Moldova and Transylvania, the ruins of which are still visible today. For some unknown reason, the people call this remnant the "Rákóczi Castle," and it is still considered part of the "Thousand-Year Border."

In reality, the Tatros River flows through the Gyimes Gorge, uniting with the Hidegség stream between Gyimesközéplok and Gyimesbükk, turning southeast toward Moldova. Since the streams here, including the Tatros, extend beyond the Carpathians, their origin falls on the other side of the watershed, geographically placing Gyimes in Moldova rather than Transylvania, making it the only territory in historical Hungary beyond the Carpathians. In this picturesque valley, 40 kilometers from Miercurea Ciuc, lies Gyimesközéplok, a settlement that belonged to the Szépvíz district of Ciuc County until the Treaty of Trianon. Tankó Erika, an actress at the Maladype Theater, was born here.

- Have you ever been to Gyimes?

- Yes, a long time ago. It's a closed-off world.

- Is it still closed off?

- Yes, still – both geographically and mentally. Back in 1996, when I finished elementary school and had to decide which direction to continue my education, it was even more closed. News didn’t just come flying in.

- I heard that Gyimesközéplok has given birth to another actress besides you: Gizella Molnár.

- Yes, but also Jánó János, who was an actor in Timișoara – now retired. He was my grandfather's classmate.

- Was it a big step to leave?

- When you take these steps, they don't seem that big at the time because they feel like the most natural thing. My parents raised me with the idea that I should study. They put it this way: it was important to achieve something, "not to remain a peasant kid." They ensured the financial support for me to study in another city; they paid for my rent in Târgu Mureș, where there were no dormitories, and daily commuting was impossible because the train ride took five hours. At the time, I took it for granted. I didn’t even think about how my parents managed to finance it. Only recently have I started to realize how challenging it must have been for them to support me, even though I have a profession. My parents had to earn this money through agricultural work, based on their experiences, and they had to guide me toward a world they didn’t know. I still needed their support when I signed a contract as an actor in Timișoara, because my salary was so low. Even moving to Budapest wasn’t hard at the time. When Zoli Balázs called, it felt like a given that I’d come. I met someone who shared my theater thinking. And I had no ties to Timișoara besides the theater. That's why I’ve been with Maladype for five years now. Physical distance doesn’t mean emotional detachment.

- You didn’t plan to be an actress, and you didn’t want to come to Hungary. You didn’t consider Pest (Budapest) as your home.

- The world and people change. If we didn’t, we would be unhappy and disappointed, always looking for what’s gone. You need to notice the new things around you and recognize the valuable ones. I really didn’t want to be an actress (I applied to the Faculty of Arts in Budapest, but I couldn’t take the exam because the Romanian graduation date coincided with the Hungarian one). I didn’t even think about it. I went to the theater for the first time after I was accepted to the Theater Academy. That’s almost unthinkable today in Budapest – you’d hear such stories a hundred years ago. Still, when I came across that ad for an entrance exam at the Târgu Mureș Academy of Dramatic Art, I immediately felt that’s where I wanted to go. I didn’t want to come to Budapest, the big-city life didn’t attract me, and I didn’t know the theater scene here. I’d been here a few times, seen a couple of performances, but the big city and theater culture were foreign to me because in Târgu Mureș and Timișoara, we practiced traditional acting. I basically invited myself to the academy. I said, "I’m from Târgu Mureș, I have no money." They were nice enough to let me in.

- Do you like Budapest now?

- Yes, now I do. I’ve come to like it. At first, though, I felt very alone. As I said, I decided to move here very suddenly. My friends stayed in Timișoara, my girlfriend (Ágota Szilágyi – now also part of Maladype) signed a contract in Novi Sad. Since then, I’ve met many people, learned how to live in a big city, accepted that because of the daily rush, it’s rare to meet people who are close to me. In Transylvania, this wouldn't have happened; time passed differently there, and everyone was within reach.

- Do these mechanisms work in reverse? I know you like going home. Could you live there?

- That’s a very current question. A few days ago, at a rehearsal, we were talking about it with Szabolcs Hajdu (who is directing his play at Maladype) and the colleagues. Szabi asked if we could go back to where we were born, where we studied. It's not easy to give an honest answer, especially when it comes to theatrical opportunities – I'll cross that bridge when I get there. But I still feel a pull towards Gyimes with my heart, though my mind knows I wouldn’t have the opportunity there to do what I feel is my calling now. After a good professional task, though, gardening or being close to animals could really relax me.

- Would they understand the "changed" Erika? Would they welcome you back?

- I hope so. Of course, that depends on me too. You know, the people back home are tough, often very blunt, but they’re sensitive enough to recognize valuable things, even if they are unfamiliar in form. In recent years, they’ve gained new experiences too, they’ve encountered new things, as many have gone abroad, especially the younger ones.

- I often ask this question to others. What’s the extra something that Maladype can offer?

- My professional presence and, in a metaphorical sense, my acting presence, my way of being. Maladype is a very novel, unique, open-to-the-world theater and other forms of artistic expression, an innovative creative community. It’s here that I learned the importance of presence. Today, what keeps my attention in a performance is no longer what I need to say when I step on stage or where to turn my head. We build the scenes from each other, from the actors’ presence, the energy created in the characters at that given moment. I don’t play alone in a pre-constructed, rehearsed role. At the academy, we were taught to build the character, we had to write its "biography." Theater is not like making jam or canned food. Research and writing are still necessary, but ultimately, it’s the series of improvisations that creates the performance. I learned that you don’t just carry out the director’s instructions; you use them. Of course, this didn’t happen overnight because it’s not just a simple technical skill, but what I believe is a qualitatively different way of making theater. In the first years, I just aimed to do what Zoli wanted (which was of course impossible). Then one day – I don’t know why – something changed, and another approach took over. The focus shifted to using and incorporating the forms and energies suggested by the director, blending them with my own experiences. This may seem like a small difference, but as an actor, it’s a wonderful experience. I remember the moment it happened during a rehearsal for Platonov. I often feel it would’ve been nice to come out of the university with the knowledge I have now, after ten years. But of course, I know that’s not possible. Besides the time that has passed, it took Zoli’s rather harsh training. For example, we had to give speeches in public spaces. And we performed Platonov in the Mikszáth Square, in the whole building, from the lift to the bathroom – sometimes until 2 a.m. All the foreign festivals (India, Iran, the U.S., etc.) were just the cherry on top.

- What would a "traditional" actor think if they saw this?

- The unusual Platonov performance wasn’t seen by my colleagues. It was seen by the regular audience of Übü and Sándor Zsótér. They really enjoyed it.

- The previous question turned around: What have you given to Maladype?

- Zoli could answer this. He knows why he invited me. He told me I’m like a sponge – I absorb a lot, I love learning. Of course, it plays a role that I lived for a long time in a secluded valley. There was no need for artifice in me. But I also think it’s true that this sponge absorbs the smallest things too, but perhaps this is also why I like theater – because I can get to know people’s secret thoughts. It gives you a huge advantage to understand the world, and then, of course, you can tell stories.

- It may be that this is good. The roles that young children learn because they saw James Dean and others, I don’t even know who else, don’t affect you. In that sense, you are a blank slate.

- In that sense, yes, but I often experience this as a disadvantage. I read books by well-known authors, the traditional ones prescribed by the educational system, but I didn’t know the new ones. Now, as an adult, I have to catch up. However, I can still be amazed by many things, and I don’t have any prejudice.

- Once you were asked about your dream roles. You named other roles from the plays you were in.

- That’s a misunderstanding. Those weren’t dream roles, and I didn’t come up with them myself, I was just telling a story. A colleague from Timișoara suggested that it would be interesting to play multiple roles within a performance (switching the cast). This idea came back to me when we were rehearsing Don Carlos. Gabi Varga played Eboli in our production, but at the same time, she was also performing it in Székesfehérvár. That’s when the idea of a role swap came up. I’ve never had a dream role. I want to work with people who are curious about me, who are interested in what more can be drawn out of me, who build on me and the team.

- Musician mentality. They jam a little, come together for a joyful play.

- Last year, I had an experiment like that with Laci Csuja, but we didn’t put the performance on the program, the audience didn’t see it. We could try anything we came up with, pushing it to the extremes. It was really good for the team, it was a good experience, I enjoyed it.

- Here at the base, the relationship between the actors and the audience is quite direct, intimate. In a "stone theater," there’s always a buffer zone between the audience and the stage. Was it hard to get used to this closeness? My wife and I saw Egmont, and while she enjoyed the performance, she said it entered her comfort zone.

- At first, it’s unusual for many. In the most recent Egmont, there was a school group, many of them had never been to this type of theater before. They couldn’t imagine what it would be like. They were used to theaters being dark, hiding in the back rows, sitting in comfortable chairs while the actors did their thing. Even just before the performance, they couldn’t imagine that a serious theater performance could happen in a room like this. They were confused by the situation. As an actor, this doesn’t bother me at all. For me, the audience is a playmate, just like my colleagues. I might even address them, but I always react to the situations they create (offer to me). In such a small space, their energies have an intense effect on me. On a big stage, like at Trafó, the situation is completely different. It was hard to get back into the experience of the big stage. Plus, I had to rephrase it. At first, it was incredibly difficult to bridge the 2-3 meters between the first row and the stage. I felt like my energy wasn’t getting across. It was strange for me, the darkness too. I missed being able to see the audience’s reactions, and it bothered me that I couldn’t respond directly.

- I’m listening to you, and I increasingly get the sense that the coincidence of the entrance exam and the graduation exam falling on the same day is truly a stroke of luck.

- It seems that way now, but at the time, I was terribly disappointed. When I applied for the Hungarian major, I really wanted to pass the entrance exam. But that missed opportunity and the subsequent month of mourning, which I spent aimlessly at home, was what led me to the newspaper ad that eventually came into my hands.

Gábor Deák Márkus, Tamás Tuska, lexi.hu, 2015

Translation by Zsuzsanna Juraszek