Review: INTERNATIONAL THEATRE FESTIVAL KONTAKT at Wilam Horzyca Theatre
Where world theatre meets
Religion, Theatre, Community, Love and War
I’ve been five days in Toruń and saw nine shows. After a while I figured that there is an invisible rope connecting all of them - if you followed it carefully enough, it led you from one theatrical venue to the next, weaving a thread you didn't quite see until the very end.
But here's the thing about this festival: the real magic doesn't only happen on stage. It happens on the streets, 
between shows, during meet-the-makers sessions, and late into the night in the garden of the theatrical café, where conversations are ongoing. The city transforms into one place where ideas and opinions bounce off old walls like they've been waiting there all along. I miss this kind of exchange more than I usually admit - and I deeply appreciate that these vibrations don't stay locked inside the venue. They resonate. Long after the curtain falls.
And there was plenty to resonate about.
Religion. Community. Love. War. By day three, I started spotting them everywhere, as if the festival had secretly agreed on a common vocabulary. I was one square away from shouting “Bingo!”
The Seer by Milo Rau from Germany dropped us into a world of war and cruelty, but also into something stranger - a fascination with danger and a community operating by rules only religion can(?) explain. Uncomfortable, and difficult to shake off.
The Teutonic Knights, directed by Jan Klata, was a bold cocktail of religion, love, and war - decoding a 15th century story for a modern world, with a rare pinch of humor and a battle soundtrack courtesy of German heavy metal. Yes, really.
The Cherry Orchard from Romania, directed by Andrei Majeri, offered beautiful acting (French songs included), a love for a past that cannot return, and a scenography by Oana Micu that deserves its own standing ovation. A living room that transforms into a muddy backyard - with mud and rain. I mean: real mud. Real rain. Extraordinary.
Potok. Community Exercises, directed by Wiktor Rubin, didn't bring a story to us - it put us inside one. Social exclusion, poverty, rural superstitions. The whole setup felt almost too real, which was precisely the point. You feel you’re uncomfortable but the production pulls you in without asking. Also acting was great.
Very Ibsen, directed by Dominika Knapik, mixed dark humor, horror, and a distinctly Scandinavian vibe. Ibsen's characters placed inside a Hellinger Systemic Constellation, performed in lip-sync - and everyone wearing wool sweaters. Everyone’s ginger. I don't know how to explain it better than that, and honestly, I don't think I should.
The Summit by Christoph Marthaler from Switzerland took us to a hut - or maybe a bunker - for a Summit of unclear purpose, unclear location, and unclear participants. And yet, somehow, we recognized ourselves in every absurd moment. 
Some scenes made us laugh. Some gave us goosebumps. Often both at once. I loved the mix of languages.
The Promised Land, directed by Maja Kleczewska, attempted to translate a 19th century novel into a modern world. In my opinion, it didn't quite find a language to do that - the atmosphere and symbols of the original got lost somewhere in translation. I also missed seeing the actors properly; most scenes played out in small rooms, visible only through screens. I wanted to see their eyes, not pixels.
The Curse by Anna Augustynowicz was a well-crafted production of Wyspiański's play - a community driven by hunger for power, pushing aside anyone who stands in the way. Precise and purposeful. Though again, a thin curtain between stage and audience made me feel more excluded than included. And I'd rather be inside the storm than watching it through glass.
And then - last but very much not least - Faith, Money, War and Love from Germany, by Robert Lepage. Nearly five hours. A charmed audience. Eighty years of lives and stories, paths crossing and recrossing, 
emotions floating rather than being forced upon you - so that diving in felt effortless and inevitable. Seven actors changing roles constantly, and a scenography by Lepage and Ulla Willis that functioned as an eighth performer: a handful of furniture, four screens, and in the blink of an eye you're in a living room, then on a plane, then in a coven, then a French bistro. The ease of it was its own kind of magic. Four acts, four eras, and inside them: faith, money, war, love - and great theatre that moves you and stays with you long after you've gone home. Which is, I suppose, the whole point. By the end, I wasn't watching anymore. I was simply there, following these lives wherever they decided to take me. One of top 10 shows of my life.
Nine shows, five days, and one garden where the conversations never quite ended. See you next year, Toruń. I'll bring better shoes.
photo: Julia Marszewska, Piotr Nykowski
To post a comment, you must register and login.Otrzymuj wiadomości z Broadwayu na WhatsAppie
Otrzymuj najnowsze aktualności, wiadomości i ekskluzywne treści bezpośrednio w aplikacji.
