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VOLUME XXXVIII * No. 148 * Winter 1997
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VOLUME XXXVIII * No. 148 * Winter 1997

Highlights

Tamás Koltai

György Spiró: Kvartett (Quartet)

[...]

Known both as an outstanding novelist and a playwright, György Spiró is one whose intent is to clear up obscurities, rather than create them. His new play, a four-handed Quartet, went on in the Harmadik Színház (The Third Theatre) in Pécs--a small studio. The Woman is the daughter of the Old Man and the Wife. The Old Man had saved the Guest's life in 1957, that is, after the suppression of the 1956 Revolution. They had spent their boyhood playing football, and at one time the Old Man had just told the Guest to get away. He knew that in 1956 the Guest had stood guard at the factory gate, with a gun in his hand, that the authorities were rounding up all those on their lists, the Guest included. He got to Vienna and from there to the US. Now he is back to show his gratitude to the Old Man.

The formula is simple--four persons confined in a small kitchen, trying to sort out a situation which is none too simple. Yet this is exactly what proves to be impossible. The Guest is searching for childhood memories--the house in an outer suburb that has been pulled down, traces of his parents who died without his seeing them again. He wants to quit the bustle of the West and his alienated family, to use his savings to build a new home just like the old one, with a courtyard, human-sized, suited to a quiet life--and to find a new family in the Old Man's family. The Old Man, his "saviour", remembers nothing about the Guest nor his own good deed. He had been a trade unionist and head of a personnel department up to 1989 and thinks that currently the country is being stolen and sold out to the capitalists. He believes that the Guest must also have been sent by them to keep an eye on him, for they know the Idea will be resurrected in a purer form. He either sits and watches a TV sports channel or sits in the library copying out old newspapers in an exercise-book before "they" make away with the past. The Wife's coordinates are the stove, the sink, chicken paprika and pasta. In the end the Woman, a tired and worn-out mother of a 17-year-old girl, is maddened by the credit card the Guest has offered as well as an expensive car as a gift; lured by the prospect of wealth, she desperately tries to tie the frustrated do-gooder to her through business and family bonds.

The four of them obviously speak different languages. Though apparently all express themselves in the mother-tongue, they have different obsessions; they have been ruined in four different ways by the world's madness. Four distorted minds are disgorging thoughts in words that have no chance of ever meeting. Four pathetic prayermills keep reiterating things, and the more grotesque and tragicomic the situation, the more we sense that they are far from stupid. It is the world that fails them, for it is no longer livable in and has turned the survivors into distorted self-deceivers going through the motions of living.

Spiró's violent, coarse, "unliterary" play is shaped according to the classical unities of time, space and action, and is staged very successfully by director János Vincze. He reduces the stage to a 6x7 square metre kitchen, reducing also the auditorium to give the audience the feel of being in a small panel-built estate flat. Even though the sound of the television in the adjoining room is heard all the time, true to the author's instructions, the acting never deteriorates into mere naturalism. The actors don the costumes that Spiró offers them with ease--for some time now he has not bothered to give individual features to his heroes, here he omits even to give them names, thereby entrusting his characters, who are differentiated stylistically, to the imagination of the audience--and they do fill them up as best they can, using their bodily warmth and mental capacities to the maximum.

This cacophonic Quartet is the music of our day, a sort of Zeitstück really topical at the time of its première. Sadly it will remain so for quite some time.


Tamás Koltai,

Editor of Színház, a theatre monthly, is The Hungarian Quarterly's regular theatre reviewer.

 
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