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Theatre – Romania Without Dracula

Category: Theatre

  • Rovegan, a Contemporary Fairy Tale

    Rovegan, a Contemporary Fairy Tale

    English version differing from original Italian article first published in “Il Manifesto, Alias” 

    Caprele sunt printre primele animale domesticite de către om. În neolitic, păstorii au început să păstreze caprinele pentru lapte și carne, dar de-a lungul timpului, oamenii au descoperit că pot fi folosite și drept combustibil, pentru îmbrăcăminte, construcții și instrumente. Capra este numită “vaca omului sărac”. Pentru că e ieftină şi bună.

    Goats are among the first animals domesticated by humans. In the Neolithic, shepherds began to keep goats for milk and meat, but over time people have discovered that they can also be used as fuel, clothing, construction and instruments. The goat is called “the poor man’s cow.” Because it’s cheap and good.

     

    Meeting Up at Dianei 4

    I meet Catincă Drăgănescu in a June rainy day at Dianei 4. Like it often happens in Romania, places echo back to other stories, developing their secret connections. Now these shanty chic quiet rooms host a hipster venue, back in Ceaușescu’s days, some Securitate premises. At a given time, they also served as collecting point for Romanian jews in wait for their final relocation to Israel, which could only apply once their diversified “ramsons” were negotiated with Romanian government agents. Today Catincă’s playwright ROVEGAN  gives voice to a contemporary variation of the same dilemma:  the impact of economic migrations on human destinies. Catincă wrote ROVEGAN in 2015 as her Residency project at the Drama League, New York, the first Romanian to be admitted there. We order our cappuccinos.

     

    Badanti, an Invisible Army 

    I had experienced ROVEGAN few days before at Centrul Educațional Replika in Bucharest. The last but one show with no certainty yet that it would run on again in the fall season, it is a piece of brechtian “epic theatre”.

    The performance lasts for an hour and a half and flows at a high emotional pace. I believe that any signora italiana, if not any Italian citizen, should “experience” this piéce. Set design is basic: three chairs and a background photo frame featuring a dusty road reaching out into the Moldavian steppe, the only anthropic element being a Bine aţi venit la Vaslui/ ‘Welcome to Vaslui’ road sign.

    Acting is all on three outstanding actresses, Mihaela Teleoacă, Valentina Zaharia and Silvana Negruţiu: they alternate to create a gallery of characters as well as to give voice to the chorus. Each scene is introduced by an estranging musical track – one for all, the sagacious manipulation of Felicità by Albano e Romina (thank you, Alexei Țurcan, for twisting that song to its utmost grotesque possibilities).

    And, under a badante‘s eyes, what an alienating place Italy may become. Scene after scene, the picture sharpens more and more, with Italiani brava gente/ ‘Italians good people’ inflicting (unawares?) hardship on a silent army of Romanian and Moldavian badanti. Here, the term badante needs analysing a bit. The Italian Treccani Dictionary dismisses  it as “A person without special qualifications, who cares for the elderly, the sick or the not self-sufficient”, real life defines a badante as a supporting column in the Italian contemporary society. She is the person who daily accesses our houses to take care of our old, disabled or little ones, often 24/7, allowing us to pursue our professional or personal goals. It does come with a cost on both sides, but we rarely seem to stop to consider what these persons had to leave behind: they remain an invisible army to us.

     

    Audiences

    Entrance to the show is for free but on reservation basis, so to observe those attending does prove an exercise in behavioural sociology. Fact is, the phenomenon of badanti is a sensitive topic in the Romanian society. It is perceived as a taboo by a vast majority as it triggers sense of shame, guilt or frustration. To my surprise, though, people showing up to attend the performance were quite heterogeneous and, along with the expected ones – young engagé, mostly female – I could spot a considerable number of common middle-aged citizens. Personally, I bear my own burden, involved as I was in “the Italian side” of the phenomenon.

    Rovegan at Teatrul Replika, Bucharest, May 2017

     

    Theatre of Power Vs Theatre of Ideas

    As a whole, though, what a different human gallery I found at Centrul Replika, from the attendees observed just a week before at Bucharest Teatru National for Durenmatt’s The Visit. There, prestigious location, dress code and the related importance of being seen, informed me that power was in the air. Here, Radu Apostol, one of the Centre organisers, explained to me that their performances can go on only thanks to voluntary work, strong social commitment and networking, relying on hardly any public funding. Against all odds, though, their program goes on, their mission being to keep on providing the community with a place where crucial topical issues may be addressed.

    “Theatre of Power – i.e. the cultural industry with its link to the political apparatus -, vs Theatre of Ideas, with its lively offer of independent projects that can rarely benefit from public funding and mostly rely on alternative fundraising channels”,  Catincă would later explain to me, adding up:”If you want to survive, you cannot be only a pure playwright, you must become also the manager of your own project”. Catincă is still very young but she seems to already possess all the necessary managerial competences, with also a degree in Media Communication. I cannot but be struck by her focus on her art and clarity of vision as cultural organiser.

     

    Artwork, not Documentary

    ROVEGAN is the first playwright in a trilogy on immigration to bring the badanti issue on stage in Romania. The immediate source of inspiration for her project was Cireșe amare / Bitter Cherries, a novel by Liliana Nechita, a former badante from Moldova herself. In fact, while migration is becoming a key issue among young Romanian intellectuals and a documentary film already exists, Catincă wishes to underline that her focus is on the artistic representation rather than on the social investigation: “ROVEGAN is no documentary as it aims at creating its own world, detached from any real circumstances.”

    Produced by Asociaţia ARENA, between February and June 2017, ROVEGAN  went on tour all across Romania, with free performances followed by an open  debate: Bucharest, Cluj, Craiova, Iasi, Botosani, Sibiu, Targu Mures and Sfantu Gheorghe. “We found very different kind of spectators. In the smallest centres, like Botosani, Targu Mures and Sfantu Gheorghe, we had very emotional feedbacks, with many women taking it all on a very personal level; at the other end of the spectrum, we found Bucharest audience, with a much more detached cultural approach.

    “Children and Grandparents of the Migration”, seen on a wall in strada Italiana, Bucharest

     

    The Epic of Mother Goat

    “The idea to use a fairy tale to develop my project came to me while listening, one Saturday morning, a reading of Capra cu trei iezi / ‘The Goat with three kids’ on a children radio program: what an epiphany!” Disseminated with the Romanian curriculum, Creangă’s tale was written in 1875. Since then it has proved one of the best-known works in local children’s literature, also becoming the topic of several music, theater and film adaptations, in both Romania and Moldova. The tale illustrates the notion of motherly love.

    As Catincă elaborated her vision, a piéce of epic theatre began to take shape. “Mother goat is Mioara, a 47-old single mother from a Moldavian village. Forced by extreme poverty to go to Italy to work as a badantă, she must leave behind her two little kids and her very old mother.”

    So it is that on this popular background the action in ROVEGAN is built. The script goes on at a steady pace, exploiting at its best the register of the fairy tale and the imagery of the goat ecosystem. Mihaela plays Mioara, while Valentina and Silvana make their voices sound like bleating, other moments one of them uses a neutral tone to illustrate some behavioural habits of the Carpathian Goat.

    That is how, then, the imagery of the goat and the re-elaboration of traditional nursery rhymes, help Catincă to describe “the mixed feelings hundreds of thousands of Romanian and Moldavian economic migrants experience, torn as they happen to be between traditional role models of ‘self-sacrificing mothers’ and pressing new needs of self-empowerment and gender awareness.”

    About the term badantă: it is worth noting that, while its Italian version is officially used in all communications of the Italian State with reference to migration and work permit policies, the Romanian word has not appeared yet in the DEX (Dicționarul Explicativ al Limbii Române).

     

    A Must See 

    The final scene won’t be spoiled, I just borrow a conclusion from a Romanian review (which I cannot track back, help me please if anyone can): “Mioara’s story brought on stage by Catincă and her team, is just one of the hundreds of thousands and this is why this shown must be seen: a phenomenon that takes place in our contemporary world and, more specifically, within the Romanian society. It helps to understand more clearly  the deep tear that is been perceived more and more in recent years between those who take to the streets to resist and protest and those who seem passive and careless. They are those who most suffer from extreme poverty and lack of education in the rural areas of the country – thousands of Romanians forced to migrate in search of work opportunities, with all the consequences that such a decision causes in their lives and in their relatives’, as well as in the Romanian society as a whole. Therefore, go and see ROVEGAN, because if it were a smart, funny and well played show that touches socials issues without provoking any in-depth reflection, it would have already been awarded on top of a podium.”

     

    Seasons To Come

    When I leave Catincă I wish her good luck and, above all, promise to follow up soon with my article. I did prove a liar, as only now, October 2017,  I have been able to keep my promise. A couple of good reasons are on my side, though. First one, I was sure that ROVEGAN would go on in the fall season and so would benefit more from any new review coming up NOW, rather than as a tail of the old season. Second and last one, because a recent relocation to Kiev, Ukraine, has made all offline engagements prevailing and rather time-absorbing. Truth is, Catincă Drăgănescu did not need my review at all as she keeps on reaping wider and wider well-deserved success, season after season. Good luck to such a promising young artist.

    Rovegan Show Poster

     

    ROVEGAN

    Playwright and Director: Catincă Drăgănescu
    Actors: Mihaela Teleoacă, Valentina Zaharia, Silvana Negruţiu
    Original Music: Alexei Țurcan
    Video and Documentary: Alexandra Dincă, Vlad Bȋrdu, Ionuţ Popescu

     

    Dianei 4, Bucharest

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    LINKS:

    Trailer Rovegan

    Platforma GO WEST

    Liliana Nechita

     

     

     

     

  • Carolina Bonaventura, Her Tango also in Bucharest

    Carolina Bonaventura, Her Tango also in Bucharest

    Cover Photo by Pablo Scavino

    Her grandfather was a pianist and run his tango orchestra, his dad was a singer but Carolina Bonaventura discovered her passion for tango as a teenager, while studying classical ballet. These days her school Mariposita de San Telmo located in the heart of Buenos Aires, has become a landmark for tangueros and celebrates its tenth anniversary. I met this relentless Argentinian Tango ambassador on last October, when she featured as guest star at Bucharest Days, the second edition festival organised by Giorgio Panico and Mariela Roșu who in Bucharest run Scoala Urquiza according to Carolina’s Efecto Mariposita©.

     

    Carolina, can you give us an idea of what Argentinian Tango has become today?

    There is a before and after in Argentinian Tango. Until the Forties you learned tango at home: your dad, your uncle would teach it to you, your neighbours, anyone… There used to be a tango culture, those songs were your everyday musical background: the tunes broadcast on the radio, listened to in the streets, from the live orchestras in the milongas. Our lives flowed along with tango. Political events in the Fifties, Sixties and Seventies, gradually led tango to a sort of social oblivion: it became less and less fashionable, inappropriate, not elegant enough, finally the political regime discouraged social events and meetings in public places. Tango disappeared from the public scene and from Buenos Aires life, along with opportunities to meet up to dance. We reached a point when, even when people did reunite, they did not know those codes anymore and just danced rock & roll or  pop music like that of the Beatles: the scene had completely changed and for good! Even when some tango was still being played, no more than two or three pieces were played per night, while our passing on tango from generation to generation had come to a stop and youth felt like belonging to a whole different society. Then, soon after the regime collapsed, an unexpected event occurred in the Eighties, which would contribute to open up a whole different scene. After many years spent researching across the whole country, Claudio Segovia, a theatre producer,  and Héctor Orezzoli, succeeded in reuniting milongueros and tango professionals  to create a major show. Tango Argentino made its debut in Paris in 1983, soon proving a worldwide success, in fact the very event that triggered a real tango mania almost everywhere. So it was through these milongueros that tango began to be taught again in a range of different schools. By then, though, the scene had deeply changed: tango culture was no more handed down from father to son/daughter inside families and local communities, but in more formal ways through schools and academias. In the process each school started teaching according to their limited knowledge in a sort of copying-and-pasting process: the original codes went almost lost and so did a shared pedagogy and methodology.

     

    “There is a before and after in Argentinian Tango. Until the forties you learned tango at home…”

     

    The way tango is being handed down today has deeply changed: before it was “from body to body”, i.e. from generation to generation, now it is through formal tango schools and academias 

     

    And what about you, when do you reckon you got involved in tango?

    My grandfather was a pianist running his tango orchestra, my dad was a singer,  I may say that even before being born, I had been listening to tango. I started very early to study classical ballet and one day, when I was already in my teens, my teacher proposed me some tango steps. I had no special interest nor prejudices against it. So was it that when I started to listen to that music and began to move my first steps, I said to myself: “Hey, I do know this music!” I was drawn back to my childhood musical background, and it actually was for that call that I started to dance tango.

    Which is your personal approach to tango?

    For my generation it proved very hard, as we had to start almost from scrap: to begin with,  which were the basic steps of tango? A pedagogy was badly needed. For me, a key way to proceed was to disassociate movements in order to understand each single part in them. The point is that affirming that tango is connection or that you have to keep your contact to the soil is not enough: you first have to understand and then be able to explain how all this is made possible! So, my very first step was to disassociate each movement and become able to reassemble them again in a mindful and philological way. This is the kind of research at the core of Efecto Mariposita© at Mariposita de San Telmo, the tango school I opened in Buenos Aires almost ten years ago [celebrating its official 10th anniversary in April 2017, ed.] I decided to locate it in one of the oldest quarters in a hundred-year-old house which I completely renovated. That choice came after having danced almost everywhere and finally having realised that tango deserved a place all of its own. Tango is definitely part of my cultural heritage and as an artistic expression it required a place to suit its needs. To pursue my project properly, I looked after every single aspect – from the best location, to the choice of colours, materials, light inside the spaces, as I said to myself: “I want to create the best place for tango!”

     

    Buenos Aires, Mariposita de San Telmo

     

    Nowadays we are less and less body aware while more and more mind-oriented

     

    Which are the basic elements characterising Efecto Mariposita© that also Giorgio and Mirela teach in Bucharest at their Tango Urquiza?

    As we deal with a physical experience involving our bodies, my method is first of all meant to allow people to re-connect themselves with their bodies. The focus is on technic, musicality, body awareness and couple communication within the tango frame. In order to develop my method, I have had to study in depth a number of elements. For four years I have been researching with the help of an olympian athlete which and how many muscles were involved in tango dancing. Athletic training is not only necessary but essential, at the very core of tango. It’s true that anyone can dance tango but to know which muscles and body parts you need to activate and control is quite crucial too. To achieve that knowledge, I delved into biomechanics, holistic methods like Feldenkrais, Pilates and Antigymnastics,  so to help people to retrieve their correct posture, which we instinctively own at birth and lose later on, due to wrong habits like, for instance, spending too much time sitting in front of screens.  In fact, we do not draw too much attention to our physical dimension, as biased as we are by a culture that considers mind more important than the body. A first step is then to help ourselves to re-establish a contact with our physical selves: should that be missing, how could we get in touch with anyone else?  Not only: to learn our body language, we have to go through a self-awareness process. Another crucial aspect in our methodology is to develop our musicality, that is our capacity to match movement to the rhythm, melody, and mood of the music being played.

     

    Nowadays tango runs the risk of losing part of its original energy, i.e. its capacity to make very different kinds of people share the same dancing floor. That still happens in Romania

     

    Giorgio Panico and Mirela Roșu

     

    What kind of apprentices come to your school?

    It is a very heterogeneous audience: we have young, middle-age, local and foreign people coming from any corner of the world. They do all share the same passion and respect for tango. That is because while the origins of tango are quite humble, it has grown to become a universal and classical artistic form. At its very core we find communication between two human beings who look for something deeper which goes beyond the act of dancing: a form of emotional involvement, a very vision of the world. That explains why in 2009 Argentinian Tango was included in the UNESCO List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Talking about our learners, I believe that while coming from quite different backgrounds, they all share a keen interest in an approach meant to teach them the hidden mechanisms of tango, beyond any fashion or fad of the moment.

    Tango on the other side of the ocean: Europe and the rest of the world…

    We Argentinians have always been strongly connected to our European roots, our intelligentsia attracted by  France, Italy, Spain and Germany. Indeed, approval by the Old Continent has always proved a recurring element in any of our artistic fields and that has also played a major role in the process of rediscovering tango and its bringing it back to centre stage. In fact, it is not by any chance that the very debut of the show Tango Argentino by Claudio Segovia and Héctor Orezzoli – which so much contributed to the current worldwide interest in tango -,  took place in Paris.

     

    Bucharest Days Festival held on last October 2016

     

    Tango in Romania: can you perceive any specific element here?

    A first observation is that dancers here appear more passionate and responsive to the music – a trait which I also find in Russia and – generally speaking – in all of Eastern Europe, where they have a higher musical education. That is not all. Here in Romania I can also see that young and less young people still tend to mix and dance together, which alas is proving less and less true in many countries today. In most countries today you find a growing generational gap, with young dancers dancing only with young ones and old with old:  a major changeover from the original tango landscape. Dance floors have always been cross-generational with everybody in the family used to dancing with everybody else: young and old with no age barriers! These days Milongas feature more and more different-age venues: those for seventy-year old, those for third/forty-year old… In fact, nowadays tango is running the risk of losing part of its original energy, i.e. its capacity to make very different kinds of people meet to share the same dancing experience – a real pity for a dance with such a democratic DNA! In the universe of tango a twenty-year old follower may dance with an eighty-year old leader and viceversa, sharing as they do a mood and a spiritual experience. I really miss that approach: you and your tango going to the dance floor to meet whoever he/she is, as long as you both share the same codes.

    Carolina Bonaventura and Mirela Roșu, photo by Sebadochio

     

    When alone, we perfectly keep our self-centred balances but only when sharing our centres of gravity with someone else new things and new personal discoveries can happen

     

    We end up with improvisation: a key word in tango…

    Musicality, communication and improvisation are the three crucial elements which must be combined without any specific order: all of them must be there at the same time. In other types of dances like salsa, rock & roll and waltz, you have basic steps for the leader and the follower to go along but in tango there does not exist any basic step nor beat to start with and your movements are built together from the very beginning: and with the music, there comes improvisation. This makes communication and capacity to react key elements. In fact, to improvise you need to know the technique, i.e. how to keep your balance so to be able to shift your centre of gravity at the right time. We may say that Tango is built through basic bricks which you have to know how to combine as you better like. The total freedom you are allowed in tango is proved by the fact that you can dance the very same piece with the same partner without ever producing the very same steps. More, at the centre of it all you find two dancers with all their potential expressiveness and that is immensely challenging. In fact, when alone, we perfectly keep our self-centred balances but it is only when we share our centres of gravity with someone else that new things and new personal discoveries can happen. That is why tango is like life itself, that is why I insist on stressing the deep humanity of tango.

     

  • Interview – Lucian Georgescu

    Interview – Lucian Georgescu

    Lucian Georgescu teaches creative writing and screenwriting at UNACT, Bucharest and is visiting professor at Scuola Holden, the creative writing school founded in Torino by Alessandro Baricco. He belongs to the first post-communist generation and he is a member of UCIN ((Romanian Filmmakers Association), SRN (Screenwriters Research Network) and EACWP (European Association of Creative Writing Programs).  Interested in road movies, he is the author of a book about Jim Jarmusch (On the Road with Jim, 2007). In 2011 he wrote, produced and directed a film a tragicomic road movie The Phantom Father. Some of his contributions can be found in The Road movies of the New Romanian Cinema (Studies in Eastern European Cinema, vol. 3, no.1, UK 2012 Intellect Ltd. pp 23-40),  The Point of No Return – Cinematic Expressions of a Nation’s Altered State of Mind (in East, West and Center: Reframing Post-1989 European Cinema, Edinburgh University Press, 2015). Lucian is currently working at a A Subjective History of Cinema Told in Road Movies.

    Lucian, what is Cinepub?

    Cinepub is the only legally free online channel dedicated to the Romanian Cinema. It represents a unique opportunity both for cinefils and for young Romanian artists. Considering the current distribution system, the risk for many emerging film-makers is that their works never get to reach their audiences at all.

    Cinepub has chosen a very simple approach with little space for any critical apparatus, focus on films, each speaking for themselves…

    That is correct. We intend to reach different kind of audiences, just like different kind of books find each their readerships, we let people chose what to watch and what to think of it. Our main intention is to showcase rather than analyze the New Romanian Cinema. In fact, the very name we chose for the project suggests A very empathic approach. Some twelve years back, at the very first editions of the TIFF (Transylvania Film Festival)  – i.e. still far from it having become a mondane must-be event –  Cinepub happened to be the name for a workshop I held as a non competitive section of the festival. The focus was totally on creating a space for young Non professionals to meet and make ideas circulate. I am glad to consider that some of that idealistic energy has been preserved.

    Coming to the distribution issue, what is the role that Cinepub plays in promoting the new Romanian cinema (as well as the past one)?

    During the communist regime some 4,000 cinemas were being run around the country; nowadays only some 40 are still operative, all the others  having been transformed into restaurants, night clubs, supermarkets or just left into a state of total decay. Now cineplex and the commercial Mall model have taken over all the programming and distribution circuit, with almost no space left for any independent operator.  Along with promoting new talents we dedicate great attention to the rediscovery of the great authors of the Romanian cinema. That is why we call 2016 the year of  Mircea Danieluc, such an important figure in the history of our cinema: we will be programming 17 of his films. We may go as far as to say that we represent for Romanian cinema an operation of Corporate Social Responsibility: a totally new approach in our country.

    Talking more specifically about the films, a recurring sense of tension between plain daily life and private expectations – often leading to a deep sense of frustration – can be perceived. Could we consider it a trait in the new Romanian cinema?

    This is certainly not the place where to define the new Romanian cinema in depth,  yet we may say that we are now experiencing a phase beyond surrealism, involving many similarities with neorealism. If we consider that the style is directed by the means and that a chronic lack of means – both financial and technical – affects the Romanian cinema, a new style is emerging. Among the contemporary directors, Cristi Puiu is one of those who really makes a statement in cinema for neorealism with its strong appetite for contemporary stories –  so reminiscent of the neorealismo italiano and yet so tipically Romanian. By the way, we may go so far as say that even Aferim by Radu Jude, despite its apparent historical setting, can be read as a neorealistic film – which can prove a challenge of kind for a foreign audience, probably unable to catch all such subtle nuances…

    A last question, my recurring one: how do you think we can trace a sufletul romanesc in the Romanian cinema?

    Sufletul romanesc has nothing metaphysical to it: you can trace it back to Caragiale’s unique mix of irony and tragedy as well as to Ion Creanga’s spirit. Nor should we forget the importance of Dadaism’s Romanian roots as well as Cioran’s observation that Romanians never take themselves too seriously.

     

     

     

     

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