Many of us encounter them on a daily basis. With a cube on his back, he races through the crowded streets of the city to bring us our favorite – ideally still warm – food. Panting at the door, they shove a steaming plastic bag into our hand and with the phone ringing, they rush to complete the next order. The work of couriers is a symbol of today’s time, in which everyone aspires to become the master of his time. It has no fixed working hours and almost anyone can join it. All you need is a bike, a smartphone and most importantly – a healthy body.
Petr Šesták chose the messenger as the hero of his latest book. The forty-three-year-old writer became widely known mainly thanks to his generational novel Kontinuita parku (2021), in which he follows the story of a middle-aged man who returns to his native small town after years of living abroad. Apt observational passages and experienced work with language were unfortunately brought down by the convulsive story line of dating a high school student. In Vyhoření, Šesták traded his fetish for women’s legs for a fascination with pumped-up male calves and earned a narrow nomination for the Magnesia Litera award. This year, even the well-known Brno scene reached for this short but all the more angry prose. She presented the adaptation under the alternative title One day the children will thank us for it, which is one of the final sentences of the book.
Martin Modrý is behind the directing and stage adaptation of the text. If you haven’t heard of him, don’t be surprised. He is a recent graduate of the bachelor’s degree in directing at JAMU. The young theater actor has so far collaborated with the independent ensemble OLDstars and completed his studies by directing Schiller’s Robbers, which he presented at Studio Marta. The artistic management of the Goose on a String theater decided to take a bold step and entrusted the first premiere of this season to this twenty-five-year-old talent. The expectations were right.
An interview with the author of the novel Burnout.
From fool to terrorist
A “pamphlet novel”, as it was described by the publishing house Host in the book annotation, is written in du-form and thus directly offers itself to the audience’s popular stage genre of spieling. The production team cast Dominik Teleky in the role of the nameless night thief. Not only with his lanky figure, but especially with his shaky voice during the opening part of the performance, he gives the viewer the impression of a timid striver rather than a sharpened and adrenaline-filled cyclist. However, that quickly changes when the actor steps into it—literally.
The main scenic element of the production is a mountain bike attached to a raised stage. With each additional step, Teleky feels more physical fatigue and frustration associated with it. Not only the orders piling up, but also memories of his childhood and skeptical contemplation of the state of the current world will not let him rest. It is not only a shame to all the drivers who usurp the roads for themselves, but also to the entire male generation that claims to dominate the world. Motoring thus becomes an allegory of a world in which nothing is looked at other than one’s own comfort, paradoxically conditioned by the continuous delivery of maximum performance.
When Teleky is not speaking directly to the audience from behind the handlebars, he is addressing actors representing selected social classes. In addition to Dalibor Buš as a typical macho guy who asserts his superiority by owning a luxury car, there is also Zdislava Pechová, portraying a student at the academy, whom the main character meets in no other way than when delivering lunch. An encounter with an activist throws the messenger on an unexpected life path: from a fool to a terrorist.
Because under the influence of falling in love, the protagonist visits one of the meetings of the eco-cell, whose members, in addition to chattering about a utopian, better world, also organize protest actions. Compared to the original, in which Šesták glosses over the hypocritical behavior of self-aware artists with even caustic irony, the creators put this criticism aside and at the end of the production, the dramaturgy under the direction of Jakub Sládeček focuses on the transformation of the protagonist. From his initial participation in protest bike rides through the city, the worn-out messenger gradually becomes radicalized. The final scene unwittingly raises conflicting questions in the viewer. Was the messenger driven to borderline criminal behavior by circumstances, or is herd fanaticism part of all efforts for radical political change?
Review of the novel Burnout.
To be swallowed up by the abyss
The promising director of Vyhoření, Martin Modrý, paradoxically decided not to continue his studies at JAMU – instead he redirected his interest to game design. It may not be obvious at first glance, but courier service and the gig economy in general (in Czech the term custom economy is used) is very close to game theory. Platforms such as Uber or Wolt collect data about their couriers, on the basis of which they evaluate the time it takes to process an order. If the courier fails to comply, he loses points. And therefore also about money. It is no coincidence that the Japanese developer Hideo Kojima built one of the most unique blockbuster games of the last decade, Death Stranding, on this seemingly simple principle.
Although Šesták only hints at this dimension of the new kind of work in his book, it is still a shame that the directors themselves did not use it. The idea of connecting a bike to a device that monitors the actor’s performance is useful, but a bit primitive. The production would also benefit from a bolder large-format work with digital visual art, not just four small screens on which animated cars like those from the cult game series Need for Speed spin at the beginning of the performance.
Adély Szturcová’s design instead of digital focuses on the material aesthetics of shiny bodywork, smooth autoplastics and tempered glass. The final object, composed of several car parts piled around the hissing Teleky, is impressive and eloquent as a symbol of a person’s connection to the hated car. The scene could probably be summed up with Nietzsche’s classic quote: “He who stares into the abyss for a long time will be swallowed up by the abyss.”
The production Once, the children will thank us for it fits into the successful dramaturgical line dedicated to young creators and socially engaged topics, which the Goose on a String Theater has been cultivating in recent years. On this occasion, we can recall the excellent, but unfortunately already degenerate, production Pozdravuju a líbák vá cstci directed by Anna Klimešová, following the asylum procedure of a Kurdish immigrant, or last year’s Reality, a reality dedicated to the Housing First project, which was undertaken by the director-dramaturg duo Boris Jedinák and Petr Erbes.
One day, the kids will thank us for it. This trio is the least radical. Not only the template itself has a part in this, but also the director’s grasp. The production curses and rages, but in the end it actually rakes radical politics off the table a little.
Production: Someday the children will thank us for this (2024)
Direction, editing, music: Martin Modrý
Dramaturgy: Martin Sládeček
Cast: Dominik Teleky, Matouš Benda, Dalibor Buš, Markéta Matulová, Zdislava Pechová
Running time: 90 minutes without intermission
Premiere: October 25, 2024
From Couriers to Radical Change: A Review of “Someday, the Children Will Thank Us”
Ah, the life of a courier! Racing through city streets, dodging cyclists, pedestrians, and possibly their own life choices. You know the type — the ones with a cube on their back, sweat trickling down like they’re in a scene from a horror movie about *Deliveroo*. The article we’re diving into outlines this thrilling chaos, but don’t worry, it’s got layers thicker than a double-decker sandwich! And trust me, readers, we’ve got more flavors than a Baskin-Robbins on steroids.
The Chosen One: Meet Petr Šesták
Our hero isn’t a superhero, but a writer. Petr Šesták brings us a “pamphlet novel” that paints the struggles of these modern-day messengers. Seriously, his writing is as spicy as the hot sauce that comes with your takeout! His previous work, *Kontinuita parku*, showcased his knack for deep observation – and a rather questionable choice in romantic interests. But hey, at least he didn’t call his female characters “the leggy ladies”; that would’ve raised some eyebrows higher than yours right now!
New Talent on the Block
Then we’ve got Martin Modrý, a director fresh out of the acting oven like a warm pastry, and he’s taking on a lot! How does he tackle this story? By attaching a bike to a stage. That’s right! It’s like if David Blaine and a pizza delivery guy had a baby. I can already hear the critics: “Exciting, yet I feel like I need a helmet.”
As if managing this young talent isn’t enough, this is their latest endeavor – *Someday, the Children Will Thank Us* – taking on the gig economy with the fervor of a toddler hyped up on fruit juice!
The Performative Dilemma: From Fool to Terrorist
The story’s protagonist goes from simple bike messengering to discovering political activism faster than you can say “I ordered a vegan pizza!” It’s interesting to see how Dominik Teleky, who seemingly starts as a timid messenger, quickly morphs into someone who could challenge your college professor on their political opinions. Who knew delivering sushi could lead to joining an eco-cell? You order dinner, end up at a protest; really makes you reconsider your takeaway choices!
Let’s discuss the brilliant metaphor here: the bike as a physical representation of societal pressures. Each pedal stroke symbolizes the weight of our expectations – but I think I’d rather weigh the same as a small avocado than face adulthood sometimes!
Bringing the Drama to Life
The dynamics here are compelling! Teleky not only speaks from the handlebars but faces characters that represent different societal facets. You’ve got the macho luxury car owner, and then the artsy student he can only deliver lunch to. It’s like an emotional Tinder swipe disaster waiting to happen!
The Thrill of the Digital Age
Now, *Vyhoření* touches on an interesting topic that could use more finesse — the ethics of the gig economy! It’s all fun and games until someone talks about game theory, turns out to be more gripping than a true-crime podcast. The show hints at it, but sadly, doesn’t dive in like a clown into a kiddie pool.
Comparatively, instead of digital aesthetics, we see traditional shiny car bits piled around Teleky. And let’s be honest, can you think of anything less thrilling than car parts? They may as well have opened the trunk for a dance break. Who doesn’t love a good trunk party?
Radical Until It’s Not
As the play unfolds, it wraps up the radical themes without going full throttle. So, where does that leave us? It’s like ordering a cheesy pizza and receiving one with a crisp salad on it: still substantial, but you’re yearning for the extra cheese!
The Grand Finale: What’s Next?
To sum it up, *Someday, the Children Will Thank Us* brings a fresh perspective to the realities of the gig economy. It mixes a vibrant directorial style with critiques of societal issues while deceptively throwing in some light entertainment. It’s edgy, yet holds back in true British fashion. Will we cheer for the cyclist, or will we wish them off to a fast-food place with ridiculously long queues? You be the judge!
So when this production premieres on October 25, 2024, get your tickets! It may just have you reflecting on your own role in the chaos, while simultaneously questioning your delivery order’s choices.
In bustling urban environments, many of us interact with couriers as part of our daily routine. A dedicated delivery worker, equipped with a cube on his back, weaves through the throngs of pedestrians, striving to bring us our coveted food – ideally still warm and tantalizing. Out of breath upon arrival, the courier hurriedly hands over a steaming plastic bag, all while juggling the relentless notifications from his phone, propelling him toward the next delivery. The role of couriers symbolizes the zeitgeist of our era, where individuals relentlessly seek to master their own time. This profession offers unparalleled flexibility, allowing virtually anyone with a bike, smartphone, and good health to join in.
Petr Šesták has chosen the courier as the intriguing protagonist in his most recent literary work. This forty-three-year-old author gained considerable acclaim with his generational novel Kontinuita parku (2021), which narrates the life of a middle-aged man returning to his familiar small town after years spent abroad. While the novel features sharp observations and adept language use, it falls short due to its erratic plot, particularly concerning a romantic fling with a high school student. In Vyhoření, Šesták shifts his focus from a fascination with women’s legs to an admiration for muscular male calves, earning a narrow nomination for the prestigious Magnesia Litera award. This year, the prominent Brno theater scene brought this compelling but fierce narrative to life, staging an adaptation titled One Day the Children Will Thank Us for It, borrowing a phrase from one of the book’s concluding lines.
The innovative staging and direction are led by Martin Modrý. If this name does not ring a bell, it is likely because he is a recent graduate of the directing program at JAMU. Modrý has previously collaborated with the independent theater group OLDstars and capped off his academic journey by directing Schiller’s Robbers at Studio Marta. The artistic management of the Goose on a String theater took a significant risk by placing their season premiere in the hands of this twenty-five-year-old talent, responding to expectations with commendable audacity.
An interview with the author of the novel Burnout.
From fool to terrorist
Referred to as a “pamphlet novel” by the publishing house Host, this work is uniquely crafted in the second-person perspective, engaging directly with the audience in a lively manner. The production team has cast Dominik Teleky in the role of the unnamed night courier. Sporting a frail physique and a quivering voice during the opening act, he initially conveys the image of a hesitant underachiever rather than a fierce, adrenaline-driven cyclist. However, this perception transforms as he fully embraces the character.
Central to the production is a mountain bike affixed to a raised platform. As Teleky makes each movement, the physical exhaustion and frustration mount, mirroring his character’s experiences. Piles of orders, remnants of his childhood, and reflections on the current world’s state haunt him. This narrative challenges not only the reckless drivers monopolizing the roads but critiques an entire male generation claiming male supremacy. Here, motoring takes on the role of an allegory for a society fixated on personal comfort, ironically fueled by an ongoing demand for peak performance.
When not addressing the audience from behind his handlebars, Teleky engages with other actors embodying distinct social classes. Notable performances include Dalibor Buš, depicting a stereotypical macho individual who showcases his dominance through a luxury vehicle, alongside Zdislava Pechová, who plays an academy student, encountering the protagonist only during lunch deliveries. A chance meeting with an activist leads the messenger down an unforeseen path: from a mere fool to a perceived terrorist.
This radical shift occurs as the protagonist, spurred by newfound love, attends a meeting of an eco-cell whose members, while discussing utopian ideals, also organize protest actions. Šesták’s original narrative offers ironic critiques of self-aware artists, yet the production’s team has moved away from this angle. Instead, towards the conclusion, dramaturgy directed by Jakub Sládeček emphasizes the protagonist’s evolution. From his initial engagement in protest bike rides, the weary courier gradually descends into radicalism. The haunting final scene leaves the audience grappling with unresolved questions: Is the protagonist’s descent into illicit activities a result of his circumstances, or does it reflect an innate drive for radical change propelled by collective fervor?
Review of the novel Burnout.
To be swallowed up by the abyss
Director Martin Modrý, despite his promising debut with Vyhoření, has chosen not to continue his studies at JAMU, opting instead to pivot toward game design. Though initially unrecognizable, parallels between gig work, like courier services, and game theory rear their heads. Companies like Uber and Wolt meticulously track their couriers, evaluating order completion times and penalizing performance discrepancies with lost earnings. This economic model resonates within the gaming landscape, illustrated by Hideo Kojima’s unique blockbuster, Death Stranding, which explores similar dynamics.
Although Šesták subtly alludes to this dimension of modern employment within his narrative, it remains lamentable that the directors didn’t incorporate it more fully into the adaptation. The notion of integrating a bike with performance-monitoring technology holds merit, yet its execution comes off as overly simplistic. The production could greatly benefit from a more ambitious approach fusioning large-scale digital art, rather than relying solely on the minimal four screens depicting racing cars reminiscent of the renowned Need for Speed video game series at the start of the show.
Adély Szturcová’s design eschews digital aesthetics in favor of focusing on materiality, embodying the sleek appeal of shiny automobiles, smooth plastics, and tempered glass. The striking final creation, an assemblage of various car components surrounding the beleaguered Teleky, serves as a compelling metaphor for humanity’s complex relationship with the automotive world. An appropriate summation of this scene comes from Nietzsche’s famous reflection: “He who stares into the abyss for a long time will be swallowed up by the abyss.”
The production Once, the Children Will Thank Us for It aligns seamlessly with the Goose on a String Theatre’s commitment to nurturing emerging talent and exploring socially relevant subjects, a trend it has enthusiastically cultivated over recent years. This reflects a lineage of exceptional, albeit unfortunately defunct, productions, like Pozdravuju a líbák vá cstci, directed by Anna Klimešová, which chronicled the asylum-seeking journey of a Kurdish immigrant, and last year’s Reality, a performance centered around the Housing First initiative directed by Boris Jedinák and Petr Erbes.
Ultimately, One Day, the Kids Will Thank Us for It is the least provocative endeavor of this trilogy. The narrative itself plays a role in this milder reception, augmented by the director’s approach. While the production features a cascade of curses and exasperation, it simultaneously downplays the urgency of radical politics.
Production: Someday the children will thank us for this (2024)
Direction, editing, music: Martin Modrý
Dramaturgy: Martin Sládeček
Cast: Dominik Teleky, Matouš Benda, Dalibor Buš, Markéta Matulová, Zdislava Pechová
Running time: 90 minutes without intermission
Premiere: October 25, 2024
How does the portrayal of the gig economy in *Someday, the Children Will Thank Us* challenge our understanding of modern consumer responsibility?
Lass. While this aesthetic captures a certain allure, it simultaneously distracts from the deeper themes at play. The frustration of the gig economy — a world driven by efficiency and instant gratification — could have been better represented through dynamic visuals that echoed the protagonist’s struggles and societal critiques.
*Someday, the Children Will Thank Us* offers a timely commentary on the hustle of modern life, cleverly intertwining humor and serious inquiry. However, just like that salad pizza, it falls short of delivering the deep, savory flavors we crave, leaving us to wonder what a little extra cheese — or depth, in this case — could have brought to the table.
With the mounting pressures of the gig economy highlighted through the lens of a courier’s life, it dares us to reflect on our responsibility as consumers and the broader implications of our support for such systems. As audiences leave the theater on October 25, 2024, one hopes they’ll engage in a dialogue on the complexity of roles we play in this intricate dance of modernity, reminding us that amidst the chaos, every delivery has a story worth telling.
