2023-07-30 07:08:02
—Tell me a little about “Sucursal”, a play closely related to the labor and economic situation in Argentina with which you have been working for a long time, with which you also toured.
—Branch shows us the back of a second-hand shop. There are the employees, the sales manager, and at times a client and the owner of the premises also appear, who has just started the work and tells the boys that he bought a premises to open a branch of the business. He also tells them that whoever makes the most sales will be in charge of that new space. From that moment the miseries of all begin to emerge. They compete, but they also lie. They work, but they also cheat. They whore the owner and suspect everyone. Machismo also appears all the time. All this in a tone of comedy well argenta. A lot of viewers told us that they identified with one or more characters, they also said things like “this character is the same as a coworker of mine”, etc. It was written by Carlos La Casa and Daniel Cúparo, and directed by Carlos La Casa.
We are seven on stage, an actress and six actors. Cecilia Bugallo, Carlos La Casa, Daniel Grosso, Charly Wesenack, Osvaldo Ross, Guillermo Figallo and myself. Beautiful group of workers with whom we had a lot of fun doing it, something fundamental and that doesn’t always happen in the casts.
We already did a few tour dates. We went to Córdoba, for example, and it was a great goal in a full room. We go until September in Paraje Artesón, every Saturday at 7:30 p.m. That month I’m going to perform a play by Jorgelina Vera at Microteatro, directed by Melisa Freund. With Sucursal we will continue on tour and eventually we will return to Capital.
—What was it like to present it in the theater that bears the name of your father?
—Yes, we did a branch function in the Hugo Arana Hall of the Sagai Foundation. We did it within the framework of the More Theater Cycle. It was beautiful to be there. Acting in a beautiful room that, as you say, bears the name of dad. It was a beautiful gesture to be named that.
My old man passed away at the worst moment of the 2020 quarantine. I couldn’t visit him while he was hospitalized and I couldn’t watch over him either. I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t say goodbye. So when I found out about the room with his name, I was able to let go of the anguish and anger I had. Beautiful tribute to the old man, who also always dreamed of putting on a little theater.
—You are the son of two actors who left their mark on Argentine popular culture. What was it like growing up with them?
—Growing up with my parents was wonderful. Two very loving people with me and each other. Forty-six years together, until the old woman left. I have the best memories. The three of us were very close. Only child around here. Over time, when I was quite old, I was able to begin to recognize certain things in the world of fame, for Dad more than anything, that were special, different. Many pros and some cons. The two of them used to travel with some theater tour and most of the time they took me, but sometimes they didn’t, and I cried missing them. Something that happens with other professions that include travel, of course. Sometimes we felt invaded by people. In a restaurant, for example. My old man in the late 80’s, early 90’s, was on the crest of the wave and people on the street approached in malón. Of course, always with good vibes and grateful for the laughter that the old man provoked. But sometimes it was a bit much. He recounted that after doing the famous for Crespi wine, at the beginning of the 70s, he got on the bondi, like every day, but that day all the people in the bus began to look at him. They recognized him. And he was scared at first. At first he wasn’t cute. The loss of anonymity, let’s say. Later he got used to it and enjoyed the recognition and affection of the people. My old lady did more theater than him, especially musical comedies, she sang wonderfully. But she never starred, like daddy, nor was she popular like him. In her midst everyone knew her, of course. She was a charming woman. When she died I remember that I told my old man: “My best friend died.” I miss her so much. And him too.
—When and how did you decide to be an actor?
—It was happening to be an actor. As a kid, with my friends and friends, we recorded short films at home. I studied cinema for just one year, because I wanted to be a director. I gave up the idea and the university. I made some short films. With one we won the audience award at the Buenos Aires Rojo Sangre Festival. He is called The Killer Fan. Bizarre horror/comedy. I worked in theater all my life. I was a prop, stage manager, assistant director. I also co-directed at Microteatro. All roles that I enjoy and that I like. One day I went to a casting for Paka Paka, because a friend, Adrián Lakerman, knew a producer from the channel and he found out and told me: “Come on!” I ended up starring in The Surprise Ice Cream Shop, which was a divine children’s show that included puppets. A little while later, Adrián Lakerman also called me to do some skits with Migue Granados on ESPN. Adrian was the scriptwriter. We laughed it off. Of the things I did, I fondly remember a small role in a version of Romeo and Juliet, directed by Virginia Lago. Later, a little play at Microteatro with Jorgelina Vera, directed by dad. And that’s how things turned out. I don’t have a representative. Should I have it? I like acting, I like singing, I had a few rock bands. I like the direction. I like a lot of things!
—One of the most present discussions in the media and social networks in recent years is that of the interference of the politically correct in artistic work. Do you have an opinion on all this?
—There will always be someone who is offended by a joke. I also take offense at some jokes, obviously, but the fear of wanting to shut up or ban someone because of what he says seems dangerous to me. That is simply wanting to censor. If you don’t like something, or you find it offensive, you have every right in the world to say it and manifest it, but it’s not good that you want to silence it. It could set a complicated precedent. One day they may silence you. It is quite a subject because it is also true that, outside of humor, there are many who say barbaric things and who are generating common sense by repeating hate slogans. I think we should bet more on love and tolerance. It’s hard. We are very involved with our own, the personal, and we would not be giving so much attention to the level of poverty, hunger, injustice, etc. And not only in our country!
—To close: it is often said that actors and musicians have to somehow modulate their egos, neuroses, any issue linked, ultimately, to the other’s gaze, acceptance, etc. How is that of another judging your work for you?
—I think that ultimately it is a search for affection. My old man, when we talked about these things, would ask himself: “Where does this need to be looked at and listened to come from?” And there was no concrete answer. We would philosophize and talk about psychology for hours. Obviously, actors have insecurities like everyone else but, of course, we put our bodies and voices at the service of a story, a story, in front of the public. And that’s where everything happens. The ego is inflated when a joke, or something we do, works. The laughter of the people, the applause, hit us all at once and that does us good, we like it. But it can also distract us from the task at hand. That feeling can sometimes run away from the character and the actor appears more, that is, one, the person. And it’s okay too. It’s a wonderful game acting.
Communion with colleagues and with the audience is a very strange and beautiful thing. It has something dreamlike. Something almost mystical. Time runs differently. I am going to throw out a phrase from Nietzsche that I always associate with acting and theater but that is for life: “The maturity of man is to have rediscovered the seriousness with which he played when he was a child.”
*Journalist, scriptwriter and teacher.
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