LIFT: How do you say 'the next big thing' in Hungarian?

Kate Bassett welcomes the arrival of fresh, provocative work from Eastern Europe for this year's LIFT extravaganza

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The Iron Curtain rose nearly 12 years ago. When it was whisked away in late 1989, suddenly we Europeans could see each other with an unrestricted view ­ in theory anyway. Burgeoning opportunities for cultural exchanges meant theatre folk faced an enticing prospect. After all, in the Western camp, British thesps have long been renowned as top-notch while East European troupes are legendary for their naturalism (courtesy of rigorous Stanislavskian training) and for alternative approaches (from Meyerhold's "human puppets" onwards).

In the early Nineties, master-directors from the former Soviet bloc toured the West with increasing regularity, not only bringing their companies but also being invited to work freelance with Western stars.

On London's Shaftesbury Avenue in 1990, Georgia's Robert Sturua memorably directed the Redgraves in Chekhov's Three Sisters. Out of Romania came Silviu Purcarete's staging of Ubu Roi at Edinburgh, becoming popular on the international circuit and settling in France. Regional UK theatres like Nottingham Playhouse, forming adventurous conglomerates, welcomed Lev Dodin's huge Maly company who had nipped over from Russia during Glasnost to win an Olivier. Traffic heading the other way has, of course, included the Almeida's Moscow-bound Ivanov, starring Ralph Fiennes.

Now, this summer, there's a new wave of young bucks from eastern Europe coming to London. In just over a week's time, the international arts festival LIFT will present Budapest's award-winning experimental troupe Mozgo Haz (meaning "Moving House"), directed by Laslo Hudi. They're performing Tragedy of Man, a Hungarian classic written by the politician and poet Imre Madach after his country's failed 1848 uprising against Viennese rule. It is Hungary's answer to Goethe's Faust, taking Adam and Eve on a tour though history, guided by the Devil who shows them utopian ideals going askew ­ democracy and free trade included.

Hudi has been hailed as "a leading light of the Hungarian new wave". Surely influenced by New York's avant-garde Wooster Group as well as East European gurus, he uses Madach's text as a springboard for a contemporary remix. His performers improvise around snippets of script while grotesque visions are overlaid with live video and flashes of vintage movies like The Great Dictator.

LIFT director Rose Fenton emphasises: "Laslo's work is important because it's fresh and provocative, grappling with Eastern Europe's new realities." When I meet Hudi in Budapest, he further expounds (and the show does need some explaining) that he's obsessed with subjectivity. "It's about not having a firm base to stand on anymore when we've found nice ideas ­ ideologies ­ are lies," he says. "We don't believe in stories anymore. We have to pick out what seems true for us now and recreate from that."

At the Gate in Notting Hill, the annual East Goes West festival ­ orchestrated by festival director Phillipe Le Moine ­ is importing innovative physical, visual and music theatre from Bulgaria, Yugoslavia and Macedonia. "There's a big explosion of work going on," says Le Moine. He's also excited that the National Theatre Studio is preparing to welcome "the next big thing", Lithuanian director Oskaras Korsunovas, to workshop Oedipus Rex. Fenton hopes to co-produce the finished result.

It's notable, however, that the Cold War thaw hasn't resulted in an open sesame, trouble-free progress for Eastern artists. Some are in danger of globetrotting too much ­ as many post-Communist economies struggle and state funding isn't assured, foreign gigs bring in vital money. But they also cut into companies' cherished, traditionally lengthy rehearsal time. "We tour so much," sighs Hudi, "we're hardly known here in Hungary." At home, the ethnic fragmenting of some states has reduced audiences. Mafia activities and the arrival of satellite TV mean more people staying in. As for experimentalists, Hudi laments that in Hungary, funding has been maintained for the hefty traditional companies while his lot can't get a foot in the door. The new wave of directors are, in many cases, boldly setting up independent companies but they're scattered and surviving through sheer determination

Le Moine is decidedly hopeful, nonetheless. "While production conditions are hard, new theatrical languages are emerging," he says. Pre-Glasnost, the theatre was an electric place where Easterners could see Communism criticised, via coded allegories. It lost its tongue when that issue melted away. Yet now, Le Moine believes, it's got something to say again. "They've seen the devils of Communism and of Capitalism," he says. "And there's a common theme emerging from this East Goes West season," he observes, chiming with Hudi: "They're all talking about questioning accepted ideals and making personal choices." It's taken a while, but maybe it's all coming together.

'Tragedy of Man': Riverside Studios, W6 (020 7863 8017), 19 to 23 June; East Goes West: Gate, W11 (020 7229 0706), 19 June to 14 July