The production brought together a team of renowned artists, foremost among them the creators of the concept and screenplay and the directors Miřenka Čechová and Petr Boháč. The two complement each other artistically and lead the Spitfire Company. Čechová is known primarily as a dancer, performer, author of several books, and choreographer. She also contributed to the movement concept and choreography for Baron Münchhausen. Working alongside this duo were dramaturg Martina Kinská and composer and renowned conductor Jan Kučera.
Baron Münchhausen, with his grand ambitions, fell short
Laterna Magika presented the world premiere of Baron Münchhausen in an original retelling. Due to the renovation of the New Stage, the premiere took place on the stage of the Estates Theater. This, of course, carries certain risks—it is one thing to perform for an audience seated only in the stalls, watching the action more or less from the center, than in a “peephole” opera house, where a large portion of the audience sees only part of the stage from above the balconies, boxes, and galleries. It is precisely this space that should, to a certain extent, serve specific artistic disciplines—but also the other way around. All the creators of Baron Münchhausen had to take this into account and factor this reality into their approach.
His wonderfully varied music occupies a central and integral place in the production and within the aforementioned space. The musical accompaniment is mostly played from a recording, but in some scenes, musicians Roman Zabelov and Jan Šikl also play several different instruments—accordion, trumpet, percussion—on stage while simultaneously being involved in the action. Costume designer Simona Rybáková and set designer Martin Chocholoušek, cinematographer and film director Pavel Berkovič, puppet designers Sébastien Puech and Paulina Skavova, puppet choreographer Amador Artiga, the brilliant illustrator and animator Galina Miklínová, and many other artists are a guarantee of quality and professionalism in their respective fields.
The creators crafted dramatic scenes based on the fantastical tales and vivid narratives of the well-known character Baron Münchhausen. He was modeled after the 18th-century German nobleman Karl Friedrich Hieronymus von Mὕnchhausen. He soon entered the Russian army, where he likely experienced all sorts of dramatic stories, which he embellished more and more in his retellings, becoming a sought-after and popular storyteller as a result. His famous stories were written down by Rudolf Erich Raspe and also by the better-known writer Gottfried August Burger.
In the program, Petr Boháč mentions a whole range of figures whose works inspired him. Of course, these included the well-known films Baron Münchhausen (1961) by Karel Zeman, starring Miloš Kopecký, and The Adventures of Baron Münchhausen (1988) by American director Terry Gilliam. Among other things, he also admires the subversive art of Jan Švankmajer, who also collaborated with Laterna magika.

The creative team relied primarily on visual imagination and traditional methods of film projection, combined with the actors’ real theatrical movement and the innovative principles of Alfréd Radok and Josef Svoboda. Čechová and Boháč’s direction thus draws on film projection, animation, pantomime, puppets, spoken word, music, and, sparingly, dance.
To our great surprise, we learned right at the start that Baron Münchhausen, one of the most famous storytellers, is portrayed by the mime and performer Radim Vizváry and will therefore not utter a single word. The main character must therefore tell his wondrous stories through his body, movement, and facial expressions. And that is by no means an easy task. It is a challenge for everyone involved.
Another very important character is the Judge, portrayed by the excellent opera singer and actress Markéta Cukrová. The court is set in the real world, and it does not believe in fairy tales or fantasy at all. To it, they are a threat to established values and power. She absolutely negates and rejects everything the Baron proposes and what is contained in his books. Everything is deemed a lie, a fraud, and a delusion. The power of the Judge’s operatic singing and delivery embodies the force of authority and dominance. The court as an institution is also represented by a shapeless, angular costume in which the singer struggles to move. Her feet rest on blocks resembling high heels or pedestals. During the trial, Prášil stands in the defendant’s dock, within a typical enclosure. It sways beneath him; he does not stand on solid ground.
Baron Münchhausen enters the darkened auditorium with a huge, heavy trunk. He pushes it onto the proscenium, naturally with all the accompanying facial expressions. Münchhausen is the only one dressed in period costume: a shabby velvet coat and a vest typical of a military uniform. He wears a dark gray, tousled wig. He then settles down, opens the trunk, and a whole library of volumes about Baron Münchhausen appears inside. Right from the start, Radim Vizváry presents a whole range of pantomimic and grotesque scenes and small, tried-and-true situations. It is a pantomimic exposition in the truest sense of the word.

A group of performers in black costumes brings out a large puppet of a little girl in a pink-and-orange dress. From a distance, the marionette looks truly lifelike. The puppetry is based on the traditional Japanese theater bunraku, in which the puppeteers are always present on stage.
The puppet/child is accompanied by a mother in a coat, holding a cell phone and talking on it. She has no time for the child. The child is thrilled to meet Münchhausen and be introduced to his fascinating world of imagination and storytime.
The mother-judge, all in one, gets angry and sends secret police after Baron Münchhausen (they show the badge of their power hidden under the lapel of their coat, as was the case even in the recent past). They are somewhat comical characters, one tall and the other much shorter. They participate in all subsequent trials involving Münchhausen. First, they take the defendant Münchhausen to prison, where only a loaf of bread, a mouse, and a raven at the window await him. Prášil gets along very well with the animals; he trusts them more than he trusts people. The journey to prison and his stay there are shown via a film projection.
This is followed by a scene with several moving doors. Behind them, court clerks take turns typing on old typewriters; they repeatedly pull out papers with testimonies, and Baron Prášil is caught in a fictional web of nonsensical charges. Here, the creators were clearly thinking of Kafka’s The Trial. The scene has good momentum; as the characters pass through the doors—mirrored on the sides—the darkened rooms transform and shift in space. The confusion and, to a certain extent, the dragging out of the interrogation are fitting. A timeless surrealist theme.
The Baron “narrates” an encounter with a giant stingray and a stay underwater in the sea. The scene is beautiful thanks to the performance of the acrobat and dancer Katarína Sobinkovičová, who, along with the stingray puppet, is suspended on a rope. Animated fish and other sea creatures swim in the sea. Münchhausen communicates with the acrobat and also swirls, flies, or swims through space when he connects with her. The circus technique is elevated by the beautiful, almost cinematic music and visuals. Despite all the effort and new technology, however, this method does not surpass what Laterna magika and its creators were already doing in the 1970s. Even Venus in The Magic Circus flew on a rope and stepped out of the film projection just like the clowns. So nothing new under the sun.

The next scene features a bull and a bullring. In the first part, the bull’s body is represented by an ordinary cement mixer. It is operated by Münchhausen, who here provides inspiration to animator Galina Miklínová, who is present on stage for almost the entire duration of the performance. She draws live, and the image immediately appears on the horizon. At first she took notes during a court hearing, and now she captures the bull’s head with horns, then its body and various details. A Spanish guitar then accompanies the matador in his typical costume, dancing a stylized flamenco. The bull’s provocation with the muleta ends in a thrust (here he stabs the cement mixer along with Münchhausen). A giant mobile bull is also manipulated on stage. From flamenco, we jump to the Argentine tango. Captivating music reminiscent of Lalo Schifrin or Ástor Piazzolla gives rise to dance routines performed by couples and a group of dancers. The tango, however, should have more energy, better technique, and better choreography.
The highlight of the first act is the rescue of the swan. In the background of the scene, behind a glass cabinet that has fallen from its hinges, we see bags of trash. Among them lies the twisted body of a black swan. Who else could portray her better than Nikola Márová, former principal dancer of the Czech National Ballet. Münchhausen attempts to rescue her, and when he succeeds, the lyrical figure of the swan transforms into a fierce dance teacher who speaks French. She decides that at any cost she will teach the Baron to waltz and improve his clumsy manners. Nikola Márová both dances and acts in short sequences that would deserve greater creativity and dramaturgical refinement.
In the second act, we follow Münchhausen in a film projection back behind bars into prison. This time, the cell is also on stage. Somewhat exhausted, he tries to entertain himself and survive the solitude. Suddenly, the sound of a dog’s howling, whining, and growling comes from a hanging cloak. The Baron plays with the fictional beast, is devoured by the dog, and then regurgitated. Even in prison, Münchhausen is visited by a puppet of a little girl, but nothing unusual happens. They play and jump around together, playing a game of “jump rope,” which the animator draws for them again. Among other things, a drawn gallows appears. Is he to be executed, according to the court’s decision?
On the smaller rear screen, we again see a projection of childhood memories: young Münchhausen as a child, shooting a deer with a cherry pit. It is the well-known story of how a whole cherry tree with fruit grows from the pit on the fawn’s head. The dreamlike scene depicts the deer (Markéta Vajdová), dressed in a light leotard, moving very gently as if in a forest and, at a slow dance tempo, stepping over obstacles formed by the hunched-over performers themselves. Baron Münchhausen gathers the cherries and dreams.
After all the troubles, the swan appears again, this time descending on a rope. Once more, she sets not only Münchhausen but everyone involved dancing. The final ballabile is again accompanied by dynamic and cheerful musical motifs, this time like at a fair. Everyone involved spins like on a carousel and eventually dances into the audience and disappears. At the very end, the mother appears with a real little girl, and despite all her mother’s commands, the girl does exactly as she pleases…
I don’t know if Baron Munchausen is for all generations, or if children will understand all the nuances of the court proceedings and the punishment of that eternal “fool,” who perhaps finds salvation in his dreams and fantasies. We are still caught in the clash between the factual, rational world and the world of fantasy and art.
The first half has good momentum and energy, and there is always something happening on both the scenic and visual levels. The second half of the production, however, drags. The ideas and tension falter, and at times the mute Baron Münchhausen is truly damn lonely in the midst of the action.
Written from the premiere on April 9, 2026, at the Estates Theatre.
Baron Münchhausen
Concept, Screenplay, and Direction: Miřenka Čechová, Petr Boháč
Dramaturgy: Martina Kinská
Choreography: Miřenka Čechová
Set Design: Martin Chocholoušek
Costumes: Simona Rybáková
Music: Jan Kučera
Lighting Design: Tomáš Morávek
Film Direction and Camera: Pavel Berkovič
Rigging: Romana Stachovičová
Puppet Construction: Sébastien Puech, Paulina Skavova
Puppet Choreography: Amador Artiga
Drawing and Animation: Galina Miklínová
Sound Design and Animation: Martin Hůla

