At the beginning of January, theaters don’t usually have new performances. So, what I would like to talk to you about is not a new performance but a story that is as hot as a freshly baked loaf and which started twenty years ago.
I would like to start by asking you when was the last time you, spontaneously decided to go to The Children’s Theater…Or, when was the last time you read a story, a fairytale. The story of The Oldman’s Daughter, with imaginary lands and kittens…This is not a plead for The Children’s Theater- Unfortunately, here in Bucharest, Ion Creanga Theater is still banished at Cinema Gloria. But, there is a trend in the Romanian contemporary theater. The more complicated and hard to grasp the show is, the bigger does the director’s and audience’s self-esteem grows…So, the choice to focus more on children’s plays is entirely reasonable….Erase and rewind.
But let’s go back to the story which started twenty years ago. It’s neither complicated nor hard to grasp. It’s been happening for some time now, every Sunday morning in the 99 Hall of the National Theater in Bucharest. And it starts with Abracadabra. I arrived late to the theater and I found myself surrounded by a group of children who were carrying a strip of long and green canvas through the foyer of the amphitheater and then they were returning to the 99 Hall through a different door. They were flicking the pear tree …The magician had helped one of them to disguise into a pear tree and had asked the others to get rid of the caterpillars that had invaded it. On stage, there was a little girl disguised as Holy Sunday. There was another strip of canvas and a bright wand twisted and turned into a wreath. The lights went down, the little girl was “glowing” and I was sure nobody doubted for a second that she was in fact Holy Sunday. The head of a donkey was thrown in a corner of the floor. A little boy approached the donkey and the magician told him to leave”the dog” alone or else it will bite him. Everybody believed it and the head of the donkey turned into a furious dog…and I am not ashamed to admit it …I believed it myself.
Why did I chose to tell you about The Magician Marian Ralea and his work?
Because, some while ago, I saw a wonderful play, it was not a children’s play. The details are irrelevant. And throughout the entire play, I noticed a gentleman-just like Caragiale used to say “I won’t say who, but he is a remarkable man”-a great critic, as I was saying, a serious and donnish gentleman who was constantly taking notes. He didn’t laugh (when it was funny), he didn’t cry (when it was sad). For a moment, I detected the look on the actress’ face and I could feel her grief. I would suggest him and other people like him to spend a Sunday morning at the Children’s National Theater.
Translated by Andreea Vasile, MTTLC, 2nd year
Facebook
Twitter
StumbleUpon
Email
Print
