Interview with actor Ovidiu MIHĂIŢĂ / Auăleu – Theatre

“Performances at Auăleu are not theatre performances, but SPECTACLES”

The actor Ovidiu Mihăiţă signs the performances at the Auăleu - Theatre (www.aualeu.ro), a company which he has been leading in Timisoara, since 2004. During the first four years they played in the garage and the yard of friends; today the company is to be found at 1^st Zoe St., in a rented house, with a garden populated by hammocks and dwarves, where they set up Scârţ – loc lejer [Squeak – an easy place], which is actually a cafe-bar open day into the night for the company's audience – a company formed in the chemistry of the Auăleu latest performance, "Animal Farm, A Singing Show" by George Orwell, by actors Ovidiu Mihăiţă, Christine Cizmaş, Ioan Codrea, Ionuţ Pârvulescu, Andrei Racolţa and musician Cari Tibor.

You recently premièred the performance "Animal Farm" after G. Orwell. What do you mean to tell us in it?
The truth is that I have been yearning for many years do the performance with the "Animal Farm" and I believe that extended waiting time can be beneficial. I think Orwell's novel is valid any place in the world run by a political form or another. As Bakunin put it, "where there is a flock there necessarily must be shepherds also to shear and devour it."

Even if it was written in direct address of the totalitarian system, it is perfectly valid here and now, in our socio-political context in which we stand so uncomfortable and that makes it a fresh and interesting topic.

How you treated Orwell?
I could not say that I treated Orwell in any certain way. But what I can say is that I dramatized novel in the way they do when one put on stage a performance after a novel. I rearranged the scenes sequence and wrote a rhymed song for each major chapter in the "Farm". The entire performance in rhymes.

How did you get the theatrical-musical form that found for the performance?
Every time we get down to do a performance at Auăleu, we're first of all trying to find a stylistic form in which we can fit it and never did we, at least not so far, had two identical performances, stylistically speaking. I thought a lot about the form that a performance with the "Animal Farm" needs to have, especially because the characters are animals. It would have been sheer stupidity to crawl on all fours and start bleating and bellowing. And as the entire novel is this huge metaphor, I told myself that music can solve this in a very elegant way. Music holds the language able to communicate in almost any situation; it has subtleties that sometimes elude theatre. It is not incidental that it is considered closest to the divine. On the other hand, it seemed a bit difficult to deal with a subject such as that of the farm, with a very sharp political edge, only in words, and talk about it, most seriously and gravely, for about two hours. Any talk-show presenter can do it better than us, at any time.

What is the subtle role that you assigned to music?
Music gives the performance the nightmare and, at the same time, the satire dimension. It is an outer comment which supports the text not only as a soundtrack, or a pedal, but goes hand in hand with it. We unreluctantly introduced in the performance punk and hip hop songs, as they are musical genres that accompany riots, and our generation wants to rebel but does not know how to do it. On the other hand, I believe that music's fascination combined with theatrical act can go very far. Many young people are reluctant to go to the theatre because it doesn't represent a “something” to which they can identify immediately, or to help them the way music does. People listen to music at home, on the street; music can accompany you anywhere. As a result, many spectators are now asking us for audio recordings of the "Farm". It is not quite the same with theatre, so we decided to combine things... Of course this is not new, but the performance is neither musical, nor cabaret, nor revue, nor pure theatre in the purest meaning of the terms. I like to think that performances at Auăleu are not theatre performances, but SPECTACLES, a term giving a much broader sense to it. I think it is best explained in an excerpt from the "Farm": "as music is the noblest of all arts, we're set to do it by the book, half parody, a fourth a concert, and for the rest it's all beaux-arts". Last but not least, in the future we would like to develop for Auăleu a strong musical side. For this, Codi took up the saxophone, Christine the accordion, Victor the violin, Ionut the triangle... we’ll have to see what Mariana will play, if she'll play at all, I only hope that it will be an instrument that can fit into a minibus... although I like the sound of a harp, for example.

How did you treat the animal characters? Tell me a little about typologies.
It's not like actors who play roles of animals. Things are a little different. I took everything from the scratch and had actors play people with animal characters. An actor comes up on stage in a pink Tuxedo, and people understand this is a pig; an actress wearing foot-plates, a spotted dress and a bell around her neck comes up and people smile knowing that she plays a cow.  I could not do what they did in the cartoons we're seen on television after the revolution. I remember my mother crying in the armchair, knowing what she endured for so long. Now people need to laugh. Laughter heals.

Does Timisoara need satire?
In my opinion it definitely does. There's too much drama and tragedy. People are simply fed up with crying. This is something we hear so often in the media, that it seems outdated and we no longer believe it. I often talk to people after our performances and I understand that if we did tragedies no one would still come.  That does not mean we only want to laugh, but look, I know a spectator who came 12 times to see the same production and now, with "Farm", the same may happen. By now we only had seven representations and I know people who have already been here three times to see it. This means a lot to me. On the other hand, apart from the practical side of things, everything we're left to do in the position of people who come up on a stage, be it however small, is to tell the truth to some friends, with a smile on our faces. After all, theatre is a communion, and I regards the spectators as friends, people sitting on a chair for us for an hour and a half, book tickets, call to say they're five minutes late because of work, make an effort to get here and so on . It would be pointless to get bitter. I also think this is the way to die, with a smile on your face. It's like the never-ending controversy about how to play death on the stage, in a realistic Stanislavskian performance; for example, where there can be no emotional memory in case of death, because you can't relive it. Just as death seems the cruelest human experience and as we should live it, in our imagination, screeching our teeth, we now try to reverse things and look at them from a perspective completely opposite and unexpected even for us, and to laugh when that is not the case.

How do you finance your productions: are you taking with one hand from the Scârţ and giving with the other for Auăleu?
Pretty hard sometimes. Basically, we gave up any funding coming from the state. That gives us freedom, and things are done much wiser. On the other hand, the role of funder in the life of any artistic enterprises seems to me more and more unattractive. Once, comedians begged the king to give his consent for the play, and now the king finances shows mocking him. I chose this path of self-financing, which is not an easy one at well, but we know it depends solely on us, and not some municipality budget, fad or European program. On the other hand, you can't get most of the props and the stuff required in a performance with cash at the supermarket. A great budget does not necessarily make a great performance. You must keep searching. Even in the trash if that's necessary. No one is surprised at a cast of 40 actors all wearing the same brand-new wellies. Some try to think of the shop-window were they saw them before, others are careless about it, while sceptics calculate how much it all cost. I see spectators fascinated with some forgotten items that they see on stage and are surprised that such things still exist, and it makes them dream. It is essential to dream when you go to the theatre.

What would you be without Scârţ?
A man with much more free time.

What would you be without Auăleu?
I would have the more free time, but I would no longer have the man.

In "Animal Farm", you play the drums. You already had a musical side which you developed outside theatre. What is the formula in which you play and what is the schedule of your future concerts?
That's right, I've been playing the drums since secondary school. I quit for a while, when in college, but I got back to it two years ago. Music is an important part of my life and I promised myself that I will only play with people who would understand this - just like fellow-travellers, who need to be convenient. The band is called DORDEDUH, and it has a first debut episode called "Man's Valley", edited by the German label Prophecy, and the debut album will following in a few months. To answer precisely, the following concerts are as follows: July 23 - Halfing (DE), July 30 - Rohr-Meiningen (DE), August 12 – the Czech Republic, August 19 - Alba-Iulia, 3 September - Berlin (DE) , November 25 - Efurt (DE), November 26 - Hohenstein-Ernstall (DE).

How do you see Auăleu in the future?
I also have many plans for what we are going to stage, improve, change and so on, but our biggest target right now is to find a place which a little higher for our theatre. With us, halls have 23 and, 43 seats for spectators, and now we're not even putting up the posters, because people would be left out. We are in a paradoxical situation of avoiding too much publicity. In the system of ticket booking in which we function, we're always sold out, with little unexplainable exceptions. Let me give you an example. About a month ago we had in the city about four festivals taking place during the same weekend, three of which had free access, and we had scheduled for then four performances with "Farm" at some not very low prices, but which was established by the spectators, not by us... I was getting white hairs. I thought no one would come, but, eventually, we had five instead of four representations. Twice a day. People thanked us for it and it matters a lot to see such a reward, other than applause. Finally they stood up and sang Happy Birthday. The hall is just a matter of time. We have everything ready for it, chairs, sound installation, patience, tiers, lights, stubbornness, a gong, nerves, and so on.