Anca Hanu and Matei Rotaru, actors of Cluj-Napoca National Theatre, in a conversation about the festivals they have participated in and about theatre.
Anca Hanu: Dear Matei, The Nurse asks you: how many theatre productions did you die in, including this one?
Matei Rotaru: According to the latest calculations... it seems I have forgotten to keep track... Basically, this is the last in a series of productions in which I die at the end.
A.H.: Are you happy to be alive?
M.R.: Yes, because only after you have died do you realize how beautiful life is... And you can cherish that.
M.R.: What did you think of the audience in Arad?
A.H.: Steady, reserved. But from one point on, I had the feeling they were there with us. I think after the second half. We are accustomed to so many types of audiences that I was surprised that, in the first part of the performance, we hadn't received any feedback... onomatopoeically. Not that it's a must, but it would have been a reaction to what we were doing. This, of course, doesn't mean that the performance didn't run smoothly or that the audience wasn't there with us. It's just my opinion after my experience at the Classical Theatre Festival in Arad. I am also thinking about the Ploiești experience, where we also took Our Class... It's difficult to compare, because productions are so different and you can't be upset because people haven't reacted the way you expected in the case of a production like Our Class. To react like they do, for instance, in the case of Sânziana and Pepelea. And it's a good thing that didn't happen. They listened, some of them left. It's understandable. I myself - as I was watching a sad piece of news on TV - I realized that I couldn't listen for more than a minute to details about the death of some people and I changed the channel. Maybe it was a form of cowardice, but I was unable to listen to that information.
M.R.: Regardless of the audience reactions - I am thinking about the audience in Ploieși -, the purpose was not to show them what great actors we are. I think the most important thing is what they take away from the performance and not what we feel. It's a personal experience. Yes, we would all like to know what they feel, but this is not possible.
A.H.: Generally, when we perform Our Class, it's a fantastic thing to see how people listen.
M.R.: Where would you like our next tour to be and why?
A.H.: I don't know. I can't tell right now. We have been on the road for so long that we don't even know where home is anymore. I would like however for the playwright of Our Class to see the performance and have a talk with him. It would be a very interesting exercise. Regardless of whether he sees it as a success or a failure, I would like to hear his opinion.
M.R.: I think it would be a great experience to visit him in Poland.
A.H.: We should meet half way, so that none of us can feel at home. Regarding your previous question. I would like to go to a village where people have never seen a theatre production. But this should be part of a program initiated by someone.
Should I ask you something as well?...
M.R.: I will answer: no, the coffee there was not better than ours from the theatre...
A.H.: Do you find phones ringing in the audience unsettling?
M.R.: I try to educate myself to ignore them. So far I have been unable to, but I try not to pay attention to the fact that they leave them on intentionally and that they even answer the phone. Some of them simply forget to turn them off.
A.H.: Some may be so overcome by emotions from being at the theatre that they forget to turn them off, and others simply don't care. I don't want to criticize anyone with my question; I simply want to draw attention to this aspect. But it's quite unpleasant. I saw a violin concert on YouTube. A phone rang in the audience, the Nokia tune, and the violinist took over the sound. It would be great if we were able to do that as well... But he had an instrument. About to the festivals. We have been to Piatra-Neamț, Ploiești, Bucharest.
Matei, tell me please, were you also under the impression that in Bucharest, at the second Our Class performance, something strange happened that wasn't entirely in our control?
M.R.: Yes. It was a special moment.
A.H.: ... when we felt that everything was right, from words to experiences... Of course, we always want it to be that way, but if that happened, we would be unable to treasure moments like that one.
M.R.: That doesn't mean we don't have to try.
A.H.: Of course we try. But it depends on so many factors. There are ten of us. It's difficult for all ten of us to meet, but, apparently, it's not impossible.
M.R.: Ten, plus the audience that evening. Because it mattered a great deal.
A.H.: Do you know what it was like for me? It was as if I was given a very difficult equation to solve. And I don't know the first thing about mathematics. I wrote it on the blackboard and realized I couldn't solve it. But, I don't know how, I managed to solve it. As if my thoughts and my hand had a mind of their own. I was able to solve it incredibly easily. That's what I felt that evening. The difficulty of the performance aside, I felt amazingly free and at ease.
I have followed the dialogue between the two actors and it reminded me of one of Peter Brook's observations: "It is hard to understand the true notion of spectator, there and not there, ignored and yet needed. The actor's work is never for an audience, yet it always is for one".
Recorded by Eugenia Sarvaria
