“We were assigned our own counter-intelligence officer [when in the military]. He was this irksome, thin, short guy with glasses. He looked a bit like a rat. He always walked just in the middle of the corridor – as in, this is me and who matters more? Here’s a funny story. We kept coming to see this officer; he would always send for us. I must have been to his office six times or so. He kept asking me: ‘Did you sign it [Several Sentences]?’ I said: ‘I did not.’ He goes: ‘No way! You must have signed it!’ I go: ‘I’m telling you the straight truth. I was a newbie employee; nobody knew me. If they gave it to me to sign, I would sign it. But I’m telling you the truth – I honestly didn’t sign it!’ We must have had this conversation for like six times. One thing’s interesting, actually, and it’s almost theatrical… As I said, he was used to walking down the middle of the corridors, with everybody having to make way for him. As the situation in society was shifting, he too was shifting towards the side of the corridor. Then he would walk right by the wall. And then he disappeared.”
“This is not to say that respect for classic authors should be rigorous, utter, or literal. I do think, though, that you should respect the spirit of the piece. Of course, people’s experience has evolved since those old texts were written. The rhythm of our lives and our perceptions have changed – we live much faster now. We need to accept this and adapt to it. Also, theatre these days uses means of expression different from those used when those texts were written. But if the pieces have survived for centuries, it means they have the potential for catharsis, the purification of emotion, and that they are about people. They may cover ordinary people’s lives or those big, archetypal destinies, but they’re still about people. This must be preserved. This doesn’t mean you should not cut stuff out because theatre can say certain things using completely different means now. Genre shifts are possible as well. What is immensely important for me is preserving the original spirit and idea of the play. The only time you can justify the approach where someone takes a play and makes it something entirely different is when they get it extremely right and it works. Most often, however, it doesn’t really work that well. People just talk about how strange it is.”
“It was a huge shock for me when the Soviets invaded Afghanistan and we were told in school that they were there to help the people. And that they were invited by the government. I said: ‘That’s weird, why did they execute the government, then?’ I was kind of cheeky that way… Then my told me they had been invited to the school. They told me to be careful speaking about this stuff because a schoolmate told on me for saying things like that. The school handled it relatively well. They just warned my parents saying I should be careful about what I say. It was such a shock for me… That was likely the last time I cried because of how ugly the world was.”
“My mum has a strange left-wing family heritage. Her family name is Erdélyi and her father was Hungarian, Istvan (Stephen) Erdélyi, an offspring of Hungarian nobility. His worldview was left-wing, though, so he parted ways with his family. He got a degree in medicine and ended up in Hradec Králové. He was one of the left-wing intellectuals who used to meet there. There were fine artist and such among them. Their worldview was strongly left-wing and, shall we say, they were cured from this only after a clash with reality.”
Jakub Zindulka was born on 17 February 1966 in Hradec Králové where his father Stanislav Zindulka, a prominent actor and the future Czech Lion Award winner, was in his first employment. He grew in a free-thinking environment and the family was in contact with respected personalities from the art world. Having graduated from the grammar school in Jilemnice, he was admitted to DAMU in Prague. The students were overseen and taken care of by their favourite teacher, actress Jana Hlaváčová. He refused to join the communist party and, as a leading student in his year, declined an offer to film a poetry show to mark the anniversary of the Victorious February 1948, after which he was blacklisted by the TV. Following graduation in 1988, he was employed at the J. K. Tyl Theatre in Plzeň. He came to Plzeň along with actress Kateřina Vinická whom he married in 1989. They raised two children but their marriage fell apart eventually. As a tertiary school graduate, he enlisted for his one-year military service with the Military Art Ensemble in July 1989. He experienced the November 1989 events while in service at Pohořelec in Prague. He was given a leave on the weekend prior to 27 November, left for J. K. Tyl Theatre, typed texts inviting to a general strike, and appeared on stage with colleagues in the evening. He played several dozen roles at J. K. Tyl Theatre from 1988 to 2016. In 2008 he became the Director of Plzeň Divadlo Dialog theatre where he also works as a director, actor, dramaturge, costume designer… His biggest film role was the Waterman in The Watermill Princess I and II fairy tale films (1994, 2000). He regularly performs as a guest in other theatres (Divadlo U Hasičů, Divadlo v Řeznické, Činoherní klub, and Divadelní spolek Kašpar).
