Buildings for theatrical purposes have been built in Central Eastern Europe only during the past two centuries. In the countries where there was a kingdom and a classicism of its own the National Theatre was built as early as the 18^th century, like in Warsaw; yet of course the building in question has totally vanished by now. Where there was a feudal state but without an own classicism the national house was not named National Theatre initially, like the Serbian theatre in Novi Sad, Letece pozoriste, the company of which was transferred to Belgrade during the 1860, which was the seat of the Serbian principality, and consequently renamed National Theatre.

It was predominantly the romantic nationalism which brought to life the famous theatre buildings which have prevailed survived up to the present. Opposing the claim of the exhibition’s curator my personal experience is that the style of the theatre buildings in Krakow, Prague, Zagreb, Belgrade – and so on – is instead pretty much the same, as they are all venues inspired by the French, German, Austrian, Italian eclecticism of the previous decades, and this equally stands for opera houses and musical theatres just as for drama theatres.

It is also curious that their program policy is almost the same too, just that they stopped playing in German and switched to very similar plays in national languages instead. The similarity applies to all genres. Ján Kollar wrote his heroic epic Slávy dcera at the same time and in the very same small street in Budapest as Mihály Vörösmarty his epic, Zalán futása, the difference is just in the language. Some kilometres away Jakov Ignjatovic was writing the first Serbian novels, the form of which is very similar to the Hungarian and German novels written in the period. The same type of comedies are written, yet each in their authors’ mother tongue, by Josef Kajetán Tyl, Ede Szigligeti, Ignác Nagy, Jovan Sterija Popovic, Ján Chalupka, Záborsky, Derencin, Nusic, Caragiale. This is the inner value. However, the outer glamour – theatre architecture – has an international language. It doesn’t even need to be translated. The great theatre architects didn’t even speak these national languages, being Germans or Italians. It is irrelevant whether the people collected or raised the money for the building and operation of the theatre in the big cities or in the provinces, the romantic eclecticism expressed the feelings, self-esteem and nation-building ardour of the national bourgeoisie, while to the architects it was indifferent in which particular city and to which particular nation they erect these representative buildings. With their high-level professional know-how they built durable sanctuaries for art. They had mastered theatre architecture in Vicenza, Paris and Vienna, realizing that next to the unavoidable exhibitionism there must also be something spiritual in a building.

I held in my hands several ten-language shares issued during the Monarchy, years before World War I, which set the last day of validity to the Millennium in 2000. Our ancestors were unbelievably self-confident, and used to plan several generations ahead. They used to build their theatre buildings in the same spirit, and they have survived one hundred years since. The beautiful building of the Pécs National Theatre would not look strange in any town of Central or Eastern Europe. It could stand in Lódz, Ljubljana or even Kiev, and vice versa. This is the infrastructure, which is still surrounding, and with which the peoples of Central Eastern Europe usually boasted with during the XX. century, when they were in a big crisis.

Then the romantic nationalism turned away during the XX. century precisely from that bourgeoisie which had initially brought it to life. Roisterers monopolized the idealist nationalism and turned it against humanity, into the Nazi doctrine. The other roister ideology repressed and annihilated the bourgeoisie in the name of internationalism and erected megalomaniac social realist culture houses. In Yugoslavia, sticking out of the Soviet structure, the concrete bunker of the Serbian National Theatre in Novi Sad was inaugurated in 1981, which could also be seen as a prototype. Modern theatre architecture all around the world mammothifies and prettifies the lean and straightforward principles of the Bauhaus, with petty ornaments thought national, and my experience is, that in the meanwhile they barely ever think of the spectator, the actor or the acoustics.

The bourgeoisie in Central Europe was destroyed before it could even have the chance to pick up strength. Just to use an important play by Gorky as an analogy: Jegor Bulitsov, the strong, fit for life Russian businessman dies when the revolution breaks out, and Russia as a whole, which he would have willingly carried on his shoulders, also perishes.

Architecture is the genre which most sensitively shows the prevailing social state of mind. The sad history of Central European bourgeoisie, the very end of which we are living at the moment, architecture can portray perfectly with its own means. When the theatre in Kaposvár was renovated during the eighties it turned out that the theatre was originally built with an auditorium which could be lifted hydraulically, to create a large oval space, which can be used for a variety of purposes from county balls to other social events. During the reparations of the damages suffered in 1945 this ingenious structure was irrevocably filled up with concrete. Twenty-four years have passed since the renovations, and the building is falling into ruins again. This story – at least what regards Hungary – I consider very characteristic.

A hundred years ago theatre builders had many spectators in mind: just consider the beautiful eclectic building inaugurated one hundred and ten years ago, the large theatre of Krakow, seating one thousand; or the Vígszínház in Budapest, with a capacity of 1300. If they happen to build a larger theatre these days they still don’t dare to expect half or a third of such an audience. The place of the bourgeois self-respect was taken over by the commercial profiteering. The theatre today is not representative, just the place of representation.

They still know how to build stadiums around the world, yet after the eighties this is no longer true for our region. We live on our beautiful memories. Yet, of course, we could be worse still: there are nations which don’t even have memories. They cannot put together an interesting exhibition of theatre architecture. So let’s be pleased with what we’ve got.