Gallery: Helloween @ Papp László SportAréna, Budapest; 2025

Budapest has always felt different. Maybe it’s the weight of history in every corner, or the way the Danube cuts through the city like a scar that healed into something beautiful. I first saw Helloween here in 2010: my first show abroad, trudging through early snow with strangers who became friends, chasing something I couldn’t quite name but knew I needed.

Fifteen years later, standing in the same city with a camera in my hands and familiar faces from home in the crowd, it hit me: I wasn’t chasing anymore. I’d found it. That thing that made a kid cross borders for a concert, that made grown men wave a Serbian flag in the front row like it was a battlefield. Because Helloween has always been more than music. They’ve been proof that some things are worth the distance.

The show itself was massive, electric, everything Prague promised and then some. But there was something else here, something quieter beneath the pyro and the screams. A sense of returning. Not just to a city, but to a version of myself I thought I’d left behind. Turns out he was still there, still wide-eyed, still believing that a perfect riff could fix anything. And for two hours in Budapest, framed by fire and light and forty years of defiant joy, I swear it could.

Grosskopf grins from stage left as Deris raises his flamethrower toward the sky, merging with the column of flames, the iconic logo glowing red hot behind them. This was the shot I tried to capture a few days earlier when Helloween played in Prague. Thank god for second chances!

That finger pointed straight at the lens, that massive grin: Sascha Gerstner knows exactly what he’s doing. Behind him, Michael Weikath lurks in the purple wash, a reminder that Helloween’s strength has always been in its layers. The turquoise guitar practically glows against the darkness, and Gerstner wields it like he’s challenging you to keep up.

Shot from the pit looking back, the sheer scale of this production becomes overwhelming. The digital pumpkin towers over everything, bathed in sickly green, while Michael Kiske points at the crowd that stretches back into darkness. This is what Helloween promised when they said “most ambitious production yet” in our interview – and from this angle, you can see they weren’t exaggerating.

Arms raised, finger pointed skyward, framed by his massive kit and the glowing Helloween logos, Löble finally gets his moment. Drummers rarely get the spotlight, but when they do, they own it. For twenty years, he’s been the engine driving this machine, and in this shot, isolated against pure black, he looks exactly like what he is: essential.

Just two men, two voices, four vertical strips of blue light. The chaos stripped away, the production reduced to its core: this is when you remember that beneath all the pyro and spectacle, Helloween has always had soul. Kiske on acoustic, Deris on vocals, the crowd held in silence. It’s the rarest thing in power metal: a moment to breathe.

I loved shooting “We Burn” not only because of the pyros, but because of the energy on and off stage. This one came as I was trying to catch that perfect shot of Andi surrounded by flames, when Kai snuck up from behind, creating a perfect framing I couldn’t have planned for if I tried.

Arms spread wide, head tilted back, bathed in teal light: this is Deris at his most vulnerable and powerful. It’s not posturing, not showmanship for its own sake. It’s surrender to the moment, to the music, to forty years of belief that this all means something.

Two guitarists, two different eras, locked in musical conversation. Gerstner leans forward, all kinetic energy and sharp angles, while Weikath stands solid behind him, the foundation. It’s a perfect visual metaphor for what this reunion represents: respect for the past, commitment to the present, and a refusal to let either one overshadow the other.

From the upper deck looking down, you can see the full scope of Helloween’s Hungarian devotion. Thousands of bodies packed together, the stage a distant island of light and color, streamers falling like digital rain. This is why bands keep coming back to Budapest. The city doesn’t just show up, it commits. Every seat filled, every voice singing, every moment earned.

All seven members, all forty years of history, standing together on one platform beneath the classic logo and hanging pumpkin. This is the shot that proves the reunion wasn’t just a gimmick—it was necessary, inevitable, right. Pyro sparks, lights blaze, and somewhere in that huddle of leather and hair and instruments is everything that made German power metal matter.

Grosskopf on bass, Hansen and Weikath on their signature axes, Gerstner rounding out the assault, all bathed in teal and backlit by cosmic visuals: this is Helloween firing on all cylinders. Four different playing styles, four distinct personalities, one unified wall of sound. Deris belts out the vocals from the riser above, and for a moment, everything that should be impossible works perfectly.

This is what it looks like from the other side of the lens: faces lit by stage wash, completely absorbed, living inside the moment. Michael Kiske is a blur of motion in the background, but down here in the pit, these fans are the real story. Metal hair, band shirts, that thousand-yard stare of total immersion. This is why bands do it, why they keep coming back. For faces like these.

Kiske grins and points while Hansen leans in, laughing, and Weikath plays in the background, all of them bathed in red light. This is the magic of the reunion captured in a single frame: not just tolerance or professionalism, but actual joy.

Isolated against pure black, Hansen headbanging while Gerstner looks skyward, both lost in the riff—this is the purest distillation of what Helloween does. No pyro, no screens, no effects. Just two guitarists, two red axes, and the kind of synchronicity that only comes from hundreds of shows and mutual respect. Hansen built this band. Gerstner keeps it running. And in this moment, you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

The hit song in full glory: thousands of fans, golden confetti falling like manufactured snow, and those iconic orange and white sunburst visuals exploding across every screen. From this vantage point, you can see the full scale of what Helloween has built over forty years: not just a stage show, but a shared experience, a community, a reason for this many people to gather in one room and believe in something together.