The Tót family lives somewhere in a Banat village. Their only son is on the front during the Second World War. At the boy’s suggestion, a major suffering from nervous breakdown arrives at the family home on leave. The parents and the boy’s sister receive the officer as if their son’s fate depended solely on their hospitality: they walk on tiptoe, adjusting to his every demand, even though it becomes uncertain whether the son and the major are still fighting on the same side of the front. At first, submission is guided by hope; later, faced with madness, obedience becomes the only remaining response. How long can vulnerability be endured when decisions are driven by love? When does fear take control, and how does this state come to be perceived as normal?

In Horváth Hunor’s staging, The Tót Family becomes a memento marked by black humor: the disintegration of the world is not a single spectacular moment, but rather a small crack in the plaster that spreads slowly and insidiously.