‘Kalamona has a ragged stick and a bent figure, but he is cunning and sneaky anyway. He abducts girls and collects wives in his ice palace, who endure their never-ending captivity in silence. The last girl Kalamona abducted was Júlia, and now he is on his way again, probably to capture another woman. Let’s not mince words: he is a wicked, ugly guy. But the strange thing is that in this
beautiful Shaman Play, even he is beautiful. I mean, he is a man who acts beautifully, like everyone else in the company in their simple white costumes. How beautiful humans are, the audience may wonder, wishing they could be up on stage too.

I hope it is clear that it is not massproduced, standardized beauty that I am talking about here. It is the single, unreproducible personality, who is himself. He is what he does. He knows what he does. He knows this and accepts himself consciously, yet humbly. He says, “here I am, this is what I want to say and I am saying it. And in order to be precise and strong, I am concentrating on what I do from head to toe. I am the movement of my arm, the turn of my body, my look, which hangs on to the look in the other’s eyes; I am my fingers, which pluck the strings of the guitar; my palm, which beats the drum; the light which is reflected from my face; I am the team which I am part of: I merge into it and I am one of the members who constitute it.”’

(László Bérczes, Beautiful people (about a team), Hajónapló)