The Recipe for Almost-Perfect Happiness - A Perfectly Satisfying Ending About Imperfection

A perfectly satisfying ending about imperfection — Lia Pokorny’s groundbreaking one-woman show breaks the barriers between stage, soul, and everyday mental health. If you care about stories, mental health, emotional honesty, or you’re simply curious about Hungarian culture — this is for you

selfie with Lia Pokorny, moments before her breathtaking one-woman show by Melì

First of all — the elephant in the room. Why would anyone need a review of a Hungarian play in English, especially for readers who may or may not speak the language?
Because this particular play is such a striking example of what can truly be found in Hungary right now. Amidst the disturbing political news and the constant public controversies, there are also real cultural gems: independent voices, honest stories, and theatre that pays attention to the actual people who live here.

Reporting back from a play like this gives you a clearer picture of life in Budapest and the cultural mood of this part of the world. Even if you don’t speak Hungarian, even if you don’t plan to see the play, understanding its themes helps you understand Hungary itself a little better. So, let’s jump into the review!

Some plays entertain you, others challenge you — and then there are the rare few that feel like they pull up a chair right beside you. With laughter, intelligence, love, and amazing storytelling, A majdnem tökéletes boldogság receptje “The Recipe for Almost-Perfect Happiness”,(written and performed by Lia Pokorny, directed by Éva Botos) is exactly that kind of evening: intimate, brave, and quietly disarming.

I went to the theatre with a dear friend, heavily pregnant, and we kept laughing and crying in the same minute — both of us trying (and failing) to keep it together and quietly hoping she wouldn’t laugh herself into early labour. It was one of those rare evenings where your whole emotional range gets invited onto the stage with you.

Extremely relevant. Beautifully empowering.
This is a story about the distance between the sugar-coated perfection of the dreams we once imagined for ourselves and the everyday reality of getting up, going to work, managing relationships, navigating old habits, and building the life we actually live. The play exists entirely in between these two anchors — the dream and the reality — and it discovers, makes meaning of, and ultimately recalibrates the massive emotional gap that stretches between the two.

As someone who cares deeply about mental health and the invisible patterns we inherit, I found it incredibly refreshing to see these themes handled with such grace. There is a unique magic in watching something so heavy become light enough to hold, simply because of the way Pokorny invites us into it.

Honestly, if there was ever a reason to learn Hungarian, being able to follow this play might be it.

Talking of a story that speaks to you, dissolving the stage–audience barrier, Lia Pokorny — the writer and performer of the play — herself greeted us as we stepped into the aula of the MOM Kultúrális Központ, in Budapest, Hungary where the play took place.

The warm welcome continued with tiny interactive games — nothing that puts you on the spot — which got us into the right mindset and connected us to the story directly, keeping us involved all through the play. It felt homey, human and never forced, which is true for the entire play.

Lia Pokorny’s A majdnem tökéletes boldogság receptje (“The Recipe for Almost-Perfect Happiness”), a beautiful one-woman evening at the theatre, follows the story of fictional character Kriszta — a character whose emotional landscape many in the audience recognized instantly. We were off to a strong start, guided into a touching childhood scene: a little girl growing up in a very typical Hungarian, or broadly Eastern European, atmosphere of obligatory codependency, emotional silence, and the toxic need to please a narcissistic father who held the entire family in quiet tyranny.

It was impossible not to feel how deeply culturally familiar this dynamic is. Within minutes, the audience collectively understood that this wasn’t just Kriszta’s story — it was a mirror held up to what so many families in this region still struggle with.

Across the ninty minutes, we follow Kriszta from the person she had to become as a child, shaped by fear, compliance, and survival, through the painful recognitions of adulthood — realising why she kept inviting relationships that replicated the very toxicity she grew up in — all the way to the slow, imperfect, utterly human process of authenticity, healing, and finally building a healthy relationship with herself and hence her family and relationships.

Through laughter and very clever humour, the story of Kriszta's journey feels accessible, even when the content is heartbreaking. Lia Pokorny’s performance is so close, so intimate, that we feel drawn straight into her emotional world — quite literally — since the one-woman format becomes beautifully interactive. She invites members of the audience to represent figures from her story, which creates a sense of communal participation that is genuinely rare.

The minimalist stage design works brilliantly. Its simplicity keeps all attention on what really matters: the emotional truth. Small, understated props transform into powerful symbols — representing feelings, characters, moments of realisation — and they are used with such intelligence that the audience internalises every scene as if it were their own. Beyond the props, Lia filled the space with graceful gestures, moving through the stage and gently leading us from one emotion to the next, letting the story unfold both on stage and within us.

And then there is the brutal honesty with which she shows hope, struggle, self-betrayal, relief, and the tiny breakthroughs that lead her back to herself. More than once, we cried and laughed in the very same minute. The emotional transitions are seamless, immediate, and deeply human.

In the end, the story becomes not only Kriszta’s healing, but a shared recognition of our own patterns — and the possibility of rewriting them.

Wonderfully approachable relaxation with the ultimate message: life can be — and is allowed to be — better. For a wonderfully modest ticket price of 8,990 HUF, not only did we have a fantastic time, but we also witnessed the future of theatre — interactive, involved, curious, and infinitely human. Breaking down barriers to relax us and yet teach us through the oldest tradition of storytelling, it is a groundbreaking play that releases you with hope, reflection, and the ultimate message: life can be — and is allowed to be — better. I wholeheartedly recommend it to Hungarian speakers.

A perfect goodbye. Going full circle, after being greeted by Lia herself on our way in, she waved us goodbye with a small book signing — since a book was written about this play as well. The publication opens up further questions on codependency, the ability to say no, the complexities of the mother–child relationship, addiction, and many other crucial topics that lie at the heart of the play’s story. Written by Lia Pokorny herself, in collaboration with Márta Rendi, a family and couples consultant (essentially the kind of psychologist who helps people navigate their relationships), it feels like a natural continuation of the conversation the play begins.

Disclaimer: I attended this performance on my own initiative and purchased my ticket independently. This review reflects my personal impressions and was written without any collaboration, sponsorship, or request from the theatre or the creators of the play.