Sometimes it’s great if there’s nobody else besides us in the space, no one is coughing, messing around, leaving or entering the room, and no one is breathing loudly. And in general, no one is bringing their own energies, limitations or expectations into the space of the show. Sometimes we yearn for such selfish exclusion. But what a reprehensible thing, isn’t it? And there are cases when we have it. And meanwhile there are spectators, too. 12, more exactly, watching a surface not larger than a screen. Together. And they breathe, and one can sense their attention in that silence. As this 20 minutes’ intimate theatre brought to pulzArt by the McGuires silences us, and it teaches us to be more receptive.

The intimate peace is granted by the play of light and shadows of the pages of a paper theatre, together with the projections adjusted to it where real people are featured, but also its soundtrack which reminds us of the atmosphere of silent films. That is, it’s a pop-up book with living actors and projections. A crystalline dreamlike sensation and scary precision from the creators. Presumably, they must have dreamt a lot and profoundly about it before bringing it to life. The pages are gracefully turned by the “entertainer” – as we know, Kristin is a professional dancer who performed at world-renowned companies such as Cirque du Soleil.

The theme, however is not minuscule or trivial, let alone calming. It’s somehow illusionary, but still from this world. A house, a home, the warmth of fire, a gracefully moving fairy or a mirage laces reality from our dreams. A man cut some wood to make fire in his fireplace. Then, as through the gate of the drawn wonderland of Alice, he enters the imaginary world which then sucks him in. The fireplace is the active “I” in ourselves, it’s the passion, it’s the feeling that our life is indeed hot. The fireplace needs to permanently be fuelled so as to keep the flame alive. The inner road of the man is barren, adventurous, bordered by dried out trees and a sonar. It’s a presence yearning for a woman. There’s no fire but ice. And when our hero finally has his “icebride” in his own house, she slowly melts as a drop in the cave. The circle is closed. The man brings some wood to the fireplace.

Man, woman, fire, ice – qualities and elements around us or inside us.

The discreet world of The Icebook is introduced by two video installations of the McGuires. Psycho reminds us so condensely of the frightening milieu of Hitchcock’s scary world, as a Japanese bonsai, while Jam Jar Fairy with its splendour overwhelms not just the kids; the holographically projected fairy in the jar has such a quick appearance as an illusion, however its’s power lies precisely in this ephemeral character.

The creations can be seen on Saturday, 17 September from 4 p.m., 4.30 p.m., 5 p.m., 5.30 p.m., and 6 p.m. in the club and hall of Tamási Áron Theatre.

Boglárka Prezsmer