Text taken from The Republic of Criticism / author: Tudor-Costin Sicomas

I am starting to travel around the country more and more. And this often leads to moments of reverie, joy, and simply happiness. But also to moments of envy (positive, to be honest), because I am discovering or rediscovering cities, places much more beautiful and richer than our "dear" capital. Two of these cities that I have rediscovered lately are Cluj and now, Oradea. At least in the case of the latter, I was truly enchanted by the beauty of the central area through which I walked and which took my thoughts and soul directly to Baroque Vienna and that of the early 20th century. The elegance of the buildings that combine that charged style whose name comes from Portuguese and the Secession style give Oradea an air of a story that cannot help but envelop you and carry you back in time.

Well, to all this sublime magic is added the joy of finding an absolutely superb theater from an architectural point of view with an exceptional troupe of actors. I knew many of them from many years ago, when I had the chance to watch that already legendary production of Fiddler on the Roof. The "Iosif Vulcan" band, because that's what I'm talking about, is made up of artists from several generations, all of whom always bring, in each show, a fresh breath, a special energy that you rarely find in a band (be careful, I say band, as a collective, not actors, as individuals!!!). 

So, being on a short getaway to the beautiful city on the Criș River, I didn't want to, I couldn't miss the meeting with some of these very special actors. So I chose the show directed by Vlad Bălan, Lucruri pe quer le șiști cai șiști așture, an incredibly well-written text by Andrew Bowell, which I discovered tonight at the Transilvania Hall in a disturbing staging. Bowell's play may not seem like a masterpiece at first glance. And yet it is a rare gem in the contemporary dramaturgical picture. For it is not just the story of an imperfect family, but it presents human prototypes that are generally valid spatially and temporally, and this aspect greatly raises the level of a text that under other writing conditions could have fallen into banality. Andrew Bowell, however, knows how to exploit all the dramatic situations of these characters – also created in a filigree from a psychological point of view – taking everything beyond an outdated family drama. The entire atmosphere emanating from the text, the style of the text's construction – confessional monologues alternating with entire episodes of flashbacks – inspired me with a splendid meeting between Chekhov, Eugene O'Neill and Arthur Miller. The tensions between the parents are reminiscent of All My Sons and even Death of a Salesman, the slightly indulgent attitude of the characters in places makes subtle references to Chekhovian weaknesses, and the tragicomic character feels influenced by O'Neill's great texts. It should not be understood that we are talking about a copying of styles. Not at all! Andrew Bowell has created his own dramatic style, borrowing elements from those mentioned above.

​And what Vlad Bălan has made of this text is nothing less than a masterpiece of filigree theatrical miniature, a show of artistic purity, of a purity of interpretation, a staging in which the direction is visible and, nevertheless, the director himself takes a step back to highlight each actor, while also excellently emphasizing both the characters as individuals and the very complex, complicated relationships between them. I believe, moreover, that the most significant aspect of this show is that feeling of unity, of a team, of a group that pulls at the same time towards the same goal, an aspect that until very recently I have not seen much in the Bucharest theater, but which I feel has existed in theaters in other cities of the country for a long time. I think this is one of the reasons why it's quite difficult for me to analyze each actor individually, because they complete a strong overall picture of this Australian family, no more imperfect than any other family in any other corner of the world.

However, I must emphasize some characteristics of each artist. Thus, I was happy to see Richard Balint again, one of those actors with an immense interpretive palette and availability, and, moreover, to discover him in a typology in which I have not had the joy of watching him before. The face of the family father Bob Price appears, in his version, as one partly resigned, partly still boiling with love for his wife, drastic with one of the sons (and rightly so), but generally gentle and loving with the entire family. A nuanced interpretation, with crescendos and decrescendos of emotion, all culminating in a heartbreaking final scream that cannot leave you indifferent. Corina Cernea was, perhaps, the greatest revelation for me. I discovered an actress of an expressive force that I have rarely seen, with a terrible inner burning, with a special control over stage reactions. Her Fran Price reveals herself step by step as a frustrated woman, an unhappy wife, a mother troubled by the excessive love she lavishes on one of her children and the severity she shows towards her daughter, whom she sees as a reflection of her own suffering. With great refinement, Corina Cernea manages to bring to the stage all these contrasts between love and disappointment, between gentleness and uncontrolled anger. An actress of noble origin whom I can't wait to discover in as many different roles as possible, because I already know that I will have the joy of some brand interpretations.

Pip, the daughter ostracized by a frustrated mother, is the role played by Denisa Irina Vlad, an actress of extraordinary expressiveness, an aspect that is evident both in her vocal inflections and in her gestures and facial expressions. The way she managed to convey all that carousel of contradictory emotions that Pip goes through made me unable to take my eyes off her throughout her presence on stage. A special mention to the scene of the letter that Pip addresses to her mother, in which Denisa Vlad's acting was so controlled, balanced, the suffering and tears held back, that the effect was overwhelming. Eugen Neag is a second revelation of the evening. Even if the interesting face of the character is only noticed towards the end, I think that this fact intrigued me and made me affirm that we are dealing with an actor who combines technique with emotion in a brilliant way. The appearance of an ordinary man, a mother's favorite boy, but without much change in character during the first half of the show initially made me wonder if the author had forgotten about this character. So that in the second part one of the most shocking scenes of the play and the show would unfold – that moment when Ben storms into his parents' house, clearly under the influence of narcotics, followed by all the subsequent hysterical outburst. And Eugen Neag knew exactly how to dose all these moments of his character – seemingly banal in the first part, he accumulated all his energy and tension and unleashed them tumultuously, but without pathos and exaggeration in this scene worthy of the greatest American dramas (see here Miller and O'Neill).

Cosmin Petruț also provided a joy of interpretation, playing perhaps the most thankless role in the entire family picture: Mark, the youngest boy of the Price family, the one wildly caught between his own choices, the disappointment of his family and the constraints of a society not yet fully prepared to accept different people. The combination of interpretative strength with the exact dose of delicacy, vulnerability, all mixed with a well-delivered dramatism transformed this character into a huge opportunity for expressiveness for this extremely charismatic and charming young actor. Last but not least, Giorgiana Coman was the third revelation, from my point of view. The youngest, Rosie, who appears in the family landscape by accident, taking her name from her father's great passion for roses (a characteristic that emphasizes Rosie's importance to Bob), is a blend of restrained inner strength, naive childhood, Peter Pan-esque desire not to grow up, but also the strength to move forward. And Giorgiana Coman expressed so well all these more or less visible inner levels of her character. From her first appearance and that introductory monologue, she knew how to combine in equal and appropriate quantities the candor of the girl at the end of adolescence with the fear of stepping into the great mature adventure of life in order to, later, let us discover step by step the noble and, nevertheless, independent character of the girl.

Of course, all this detailed and overall image, at the same time, would not have been possible without the placement of the entire story in a well-defined space. And I don't think there could have been a more inspired set design than that signed by Gabi Albu who knew how to evoke both the realism of a house in the suburbs of a small Australian provincial town with visual metaphors such as that towering willow tree occupying a quarter of the space, very discreetly symbolizing the sadness behind the events or the immense rose garden behind the scene, the one that will ultimately be uprooted by a disappointed and senile Bob (ah, what a powerful image and with what emotional charge that scene was able to create, at which no one could hold back their tears!). The video design that Vlad Bălan inserted throughout the scenes in which the dramatic episodes of the Price family alternate and through which that feeling of looking back over one's shoulder is created was ingeniously created by Impress Media.

But I think the strongest element, after the direction and the acting, was the music. I have rarely seen how the stage and the auditory atmosphere are so well combined in the theater. And in the performance of the Oradea theater, this aspect was fulfilled with more than enough thanks to the subtle, delicate, but extremely moving melodic line discreetly introduced and composed by Cristina Juncu. There are few theater music composers who manage to capture the atmosphere of a text in the score as well as she does. And the fact that she is an actress herself allows her to compose theater music that is so well intertwined with both the play and the development of the stage action in the show.

Things I Know to Be True proves, therefore, to be a new complete and complete artistic triumph of the "Iosif Vulcan" troupe of the "Regina Maria" Theater in Oradea. An intimate, introspective show, a meditation on family life, on the choices we sometimes have to make and on the way we love and express our love. An exemplary directorial approach coming from a special young actor, Vlad Bălan, who demonstrates that he has all the necessary data to assert himself as a very good director. And this latter statement makes me add that, sometimes (as I was discussing the other day with a very good friend) the shows made by both the new generation of directors and those coming from the acting field, begin to be stronger, more valid and more engaged in the daily and artistic energy of our days.