Marcin Chlanda

The secret of Stanisław Wyspiański's Wesele (The Wedding) lies primarily in the way it resonates with theatregoers because – as Jan Błoński once wittily stated – Polish audiences are never bored watching The Wedding. Almost everyone agreed with the portrayal of our nation contained in Wyspiański's drama: be it socialists, nationalists, democrats or conservatives. And yet The Wedding depicts a social and class conflict, which is ongoing and constantly renewed, impossible to resolve, antagonising the players in the field of politics in many different ways, fuelled by anger, rage, a sense of injustice and desire for revenge.


The drama's grand finale, heading in long cadences towards a state of lethargy, disarmament, and a straw-wrap dance, used to be interpreted as the bitter, shocking truth about our social impotence, apathy and anomie. Or is it perhaps the other way around? Might this perverse, triumphant and monumental scene where social energy is slaughtered, trigger a sense of relief, liberate us from the fear of gory violence, and provide a blissful sense of elevation and self-righteousness? Is the drama's pulsating threat of unleashing revolutionary elements stifled by the illusion of community and the symbolic violence that always accompanies it? Is Wyspianski's drama haunted by the spectres of the national subconscious, as we tend to believe, or rather by the cadavers of history with a far greater reach?

Love that originates and evolves in the shadow of death, or a classic elaborate tale of affection – this time reduced in form to four actors: two Juliets and two Romeos.

How do we fall in love today? What sacrifices do we make and how do we die for love?

Florence, the reign of the Medici family. The apex of painting, but also time of plague and social unrest. Botticelli, favoured by the rulers, was commissioned to paint a portrait of Lorenzo de' Medici's wife. And thus ‘The Birth of Venus’ comes into being, with a significant contribution of Botticelli’s gifted young student – Leonardo da Vinci. The two men develop a feeling for each other...

This story will be about Kuba. A man with an intellectual disability who is ‘in his forties’. Kuba likes soup, his friends from the Hundred Acre Wood, and wants everyone to be ‘good’. Kuba dislikes the ‘bigos’ cabbage stew, stairs and bad people. Therefore Kuba dreams of changing the world and making it a better place. And when he sees that opportunity, he does precisely that. As best as he can.


Moron is the world premiere of the drama that won the Gdynia Drama Award for the best text in 2020. A drama, which in a clever and witty way addresses the complex topic regarding people with disabilities and the world which tries – or sometimes doesn't try at all – to start a dialogue with it. And dialogue is necessary, as long as it’s conducted with wisdom, empathy and sensitivity.

‘In Poland the mystery of Hamlet is the following: what in Poland is there to think about’.

These are Wyspiański's words from his Study on Hamlet, written feverishly in several days – a work that constitutes a source of inspiration for many Polish directors. Wyspiański contained therein his fascination with the phenomenon of theatre, his love for the brilliant text, and his great desire to read it so profoundly as to shake the conscience of his compatriots.