Kremnické gagy: Thought-out, working... and almost unrealized

 “Once upon a time, Kremnica was alive thanks to its swimming pool, the Big Air ski event, and the Kremnické gagy festival. Today, for most of the year, it is a city of ghosts.” Such is the impression of the town according to a local taxi driver, who speaks about Gagy with pride, despite never having actively participated as a native Kremničan. The Gagy festival is a major event for locals. And not only for them. It is an exceptional event focused on humor presented through a wide range of theatrical forms, street performances, stand-up, discussions, exhibitions, or street art. The diversity of this festival is especially striking when one experiences Kremnica in its everyday operation.

The COVID-19 pandemic did not spare the swimming pool or the Big Air ski event. This year, the Kremnické gagy also could not take place, as the activities of the Slovak Ministry of Culture – which in the cultural sector reach a level of destruction comparable to a pandemic – threatened this festival as well. It happened after the Arts Support Fund canceled the funding previously contracted for Gagy, only to later deny this cancellation, then hysterically call for an investigation into the contracts, and ultimately fail to find anything.

Festival Atmosphere

During the obligatory announcement “the festival was financially supported by the Arts Support Fund,” repeatedly heard through Juraj Kemka’s voice before each performance, it was very difficult to resist feelings of disgust or shame. The tension between politics and art is an age-old problem, but at the 46th Gagy festival, this tension was present at almost every performance. Co-founder Roman Vykysalý attempted to uplift visitors at the opening of the festival with the words “humor liberates.” The GUnaGu theater took a stance on contemporary issues, articulated by Viktor Horján’s exclamation “people are fucked.” The actors of the Spejbl and Hurvínek Theater, after an excellent children’s performance about how a flea will take over the world, bid farewell to Slovak visitors with solidarity words “we think of you, we stand with you.” Whether humor helps forget (political) problems, vent anger, or motivate action (the last option was surprisingly represented at the festival by the mentioned Spejbl and Hurvínek theater, for example), one thing seems certain: the inseparability of these two “approaches to life.” In the case of Kremnické gagy, this is confirmed by the relatively high number of discussions focused on political topics, popular mainstream formats like Bárdy and Káčer, Večera s Havranom, The Light Podcast on Heavy Corruption, Live with Braňo Závodský, the 360Ky debate, or Vašečka & Vagovič debate.

Humor about Ecology or Gagy for Children

This year’s festival theme was Ecology and Humor. It was acoustically embodied by the French version of Vrbovské Victory, the band The Acoustic Transformers, repeatedly filling the sidewalks of Štefánik Square with infectiously cheerful playing on recycled instruments and non-instruments. Ecology was also addressed through improvised caricature drawing in the Alley of Famous Noses (this year including a relief of Olga Feldeková), which is as intrinsic to Kremnické gagy as the Museum of Kitsch or the oversized puppet of the festival’s mascot, a flying gunár, soaring continuously across the spaces.

The most prominent way the festival’s theme manifested was in the dramaturgy of children’s performances. It was represented by several local groups such as Divadlo na Hojdačke, Divadlo Natraky, and Divadlo Fí. To some extent, it can be generalized that in children’s performances, ecological issues were communicated quite straightforwardly from a storytelling perspective, with messages following the same trajectory—from a plot based on environmental pollution to a simple solution: cleaning it up. It remains questionable how much the complexity of ecological issues can be matched to the capabilities of a young audience. The demands, mostly set today as “do you think, children, that sorting is necessary?”, could perhaps be more daring even within children’s productions.

However, this is a broader issue not specific to the festival itself. Most performances currently created at the Department of Puppet Theatre at VŠMU are considerably more inventive and daring towards the audience than many independent shows available on the Slovak puppet scene for children. Even the children’s section at Kremnické gagy, assembled exclusively from puppet performances from domestic creators, did not offer particularly inventive works, neither in terms of stories, storytelling techniques, nor puppet forms or scenic elements (although performances like Jašter Jeseter and When Trees Sing were aesthetically nourishing). Repeating clichés, such as using well-known methods to communicate with children—such as purposeless interactivity, questions that lead nowhere, or involving children in the performance to create an illusion of “being part of the story” without clarity on why or how the child is involved—remains common.

All works in this section took place in the new festival spaces, on the Courtyard of the Monastery. Their quality was especially noticeable when a German performer with the artistic name DADO entered and presented his clown act. His movement clowning titled Waiting for DADO was among the best seen at Kremnické gagy. The silence of non-verbal art replaced the actors’ shouts, and the overly high energy seemingly necessary to engage children was replaced by the poetry of grotesquely hypnotic acting. While most children’s performances from local companies started with questions like “Dear children, have you ever been to the theater and know what can and cannot be done in theater?”, DADO began his act silently, glaring at the children from somewhere in the corner of the stage, building his relationship with them solely through subtle nuances of mimetic stylization.

Of course, comparing DADA with children’s performances from the domestic puppet scene is somewhat unfair, as they belong to different genres. However, it is true that creating intelligent and functional humor for children through puppet art seems like fighting windmills here, as it is challenged by noisier, more functional, and more profitable productions of the animator type. Kremnické gagy range between these two poles, seeking the best among less demanding creators, but do not find in the independent scene works sufficiently open to broader audience interest. (It is fair to add that these conclusions apply only to this year’s edition, and in the past, there have been exceptional performances in the domestic puppet scene. Also, given current funding issues, acquiring more demanding puppet productions, which are not even the main focus of the festival, may seem like a luxury or an unaffordable premium.)

Blockbusters for Adults

Besides “family with children,” another regular type of visitor can be identified within the Kremnické gagy community: fans of performances aimed at adult audiences, who find satisfaction mainly in productions led by star actors from Slovak or Czech comedy theater. Even while waiting in line for Michal Kovačič’s discussion on humor and politics on the 360tka portal, one could occasionally hear “we’re going to Vášáryová” (who was one of the discussion guests). Gagy in this regard skillfully balance on the edge of two cultural worlds: they have their demands, seek artistic quality, but do not delve deeply into the core of independent culture, preferring quality mainly in established zones of artistic production where experimentation is less common. This year, the theatrical headliners were well-made comedies such as Lež, featuring Czech actress Ivana Chýlková and Slovak actor Aďo Hajdu; the comedy Detektor lži with Richard Stanke, Jana Oľhová, Ľuboš Kostelný; and the romantic comedy Milostné dopisy with stars Milan Kňažko and Emília Vášáryová.

It remains a staple to see the once alternative theater, now widely popular Bratislava’s GUnaGu Theater and Radošina Naive Theatre. Both theaters retain their reputation as socially critical underground, aimed at the majority audience, and their works presented at the festival this year—Plochozemci and the Billboard Face—criticized generally criticizable topics, which cannot be criticized (pars pro toto Robert Fico), executed with masterful craftsmanship, with each joke precisely pointed.

Foreign Productions and Street Art

The best that Kremnické gagy offers, where it is absolutely irreplaceable in Slovakia, are foreign artists. The main organizer Pavol Kelley mentioned in an interview that due to problems with promised support, this year the biggest foreign productions suffered most. In terms of quantity, the program at Gagy was so extensive that it was impossible to see everything, that’s true. But in relation to large foreign productions, a qualitative change compared to last year was noticeable.

At the performance The Guitar Locos: Olé! from Great Britain, visitors could most clearly notice the absence of foreign productions. Two clowns and exceptional guitar players showcased a unique combination of captivating music, mainly flamenco, and extremely funny, energetic clowning, during which the entire troupe literally went wild. The combination of musical art and clowning is one of the subgenres of street art, and in the past, several artists have performed in this direction at Kremnické gagy (last year, for example, The Crazy Mozarts by Mundo Costrini). Seeing such energetic and uninhibited entertainment combined with masterfully interpreted music, as in The Guitar Locos: Olé!, is truly exceptional. At one point, one of the performers, Paul Morocco, played almost naked on stage, which seemed particularly symbolic, especially given his enormously corpulent figure. Paul Morocco, of course, was not shy about his nudity; on the contrary, he used it to create a strong impression, contrasting his body with the bravura interpretation of guitar music from Joaquín Rodrigo’s Concerto de Aranjuez. Such a thing is rarely seen by domestic audiences. Performances of this kind from foreign productions have brought several to Kremnica in recent years, each offering experiences so specific that viewers will never forget them. This year, The Guitar Locos: Olé! was unique of its kind. Thanks for that, without a doubt. The idea that organizers cancel performances of equally high-quality foreign productions because they cannot guarantee their occurrence months in advance is painful.

The clowning of Menjunes and other street performances like Cirkus for FunK!, Inka Clown Show, or POOM-CHA (productions from Finland, Brazil, and Italy) were watched by everyone present for free, many of whom did not buy any tickets for Gagy. Among them was a group of homeless people who probably spend the entire year on Štefánik Square. Of course, many casual spectators do not understand street art and have no experience with it. Occasionally, during acrobatic gags where clowns drop cones on their heads, someone might say, “they could at least learn that, it’s worse than kindergarten.” Or a father explaining to his daughter: “uncle is making fun of people, that’s not right.”

Before the street performers’ performances, Juraj Kemka’s act is not heard. It is a technical matter, but it also has a symbolic layer. Street performers cover their costs only from what they collect, as they inform at the end of their shows. It is part of this genre, which also has many other rules, despite its seemingly spontaneous nature. The culture of street art and clowning is not very well known in Slovakia; it is a minority area. Besides Gagy, it can probably only be seen at the Štiavnica Amplión festival. And yet, it is traditional art, dating back to medieval jokers. Today, it cannot be studied at the Academy of Performing Arts or elsewhere in Slovakia (its rare background is in hospitals, thanks to the Red Nose organization). It is an experience entirely untransferable; television or internet culture cannot convey it, not even through better recordings or streaming. Everyone present will realize after a while whether the clown will “call out,” involve them, or they will experience that extraordinary, exciting moment when, just through their ordinary gestures or stance, they can make the entire square laugh in collaboration with the clown.

Kremnické gagy is a very well-organized festival, combining various forms of humor. The most anticipated, well-made comedies by well-known actors, discussions with popular personalities, or performances by favorite stand-up comedians—tickets for which audiences are willing to pay—allow the most unexpected street acts and performers from around the world, caricature improvisations, and the flying gunár to come alive on Štefánik Square. One can only hope that it will succeed despite funding problems next year as well.

The author critically engages with literature, creative theater, passive music. He moderates and organizes cultural events.