Lluís Soler: "If you come from scarcity, when you reach opulence everything is wonderful."

BarcelonaLluís Soler (Manlleu, 1954) has all the words of The storm marked syllable by syllable. The actor confesses to being "a lover of verse" and, for months, has been working to ensure that Shakespeare's final play remains deeply rooted in him before bringing it to life on stage, in the role of Prospero, under the direction of Oriol Broggi. The storm is La Perla 29's summer production, part of the Grec Festival and featuring nine actors on stage, including Clara de Ramon, Xavier Boada, and Babou Cham. The show premieres on June 25 at the Biblioteca Theater, where it will run until July 26.

What interest did he have in making this Prospero?

— Especially because it's Shakespeare; it's going back to the roots of theatre. I remember a lot of what A Midsummer Night's Dream with Calixto [Bieito], The Merchant of Venice with Sergi [Belbel], a smaller but nice role in theOthello by Mario [Gas]. Shakespeare, in theater, is something like God our Lord. You always feel good.

Does the fact that the text is towards add difficulty?

— No, not difficult; it's like being in heaven, even though the verse is Jurassic. Jaume Coll Mariner has done a translation that's well worth the effort. He knows how to write the score we're meant to say. I'm in love with the verse; for me, it's more of a help than something that works against me.

After so many years working, is it harder to find projects that motivate you?

— Somewhat selfishly, I think the fat demon, the strong enemy, is me. To put it mildly, my motivation is to fight against myself, to test myself, to seek virtuosity. This would be my personal challenge. I've just come from doing Impossible by Erri De Luca. These are gifts that life gives me and I have to take advantage of them.

What percentage of your life do you dedicate to work?

— High, very high. Now, 100%. I don't have children, I don't have a family; I can dedicate myself to this. These days, Oriol [Broggi] and I are trying to keep going, especially without rushing and without too much fear, to see what happens. Vittorio Gassman said that an actor stands on three legs: talent, work, and luck. I wouldn't say talent is less important, but if you work hard and have some luck, talent is a bonus.

He started out doing theatre, but television gave him popularity. He worked in Poblenou (1994), Family secrets (1995), Labyrinth of Shadows (1998-2000), The heart of the city (2000-2009). Did it change your life?

— Only in the sense that I became a public figure; I got into everyone's lives. There's a certain sense of pleasure, of recognition, but that's it. It's normal for people to have respect for the profession, generally speaking.

How do you combine theater, film, and television when deciding which projects to pursue?

— If television and film come looking for me, perfect. If not, film is cruel enough to only have it in a very respectful place. Theater is more manageable. In the world of film, if you want to dedicate yourself to it, everything is more complicated. The machinery behind it is tougher; if you're not a beast of talent or a person with an extraordinary presence, it's not easy.

Now, image rules everything, but you don't have social media. How do you relate to the digital world?

— I'm from the last century; I'm better off than I am in the 21st. I think the advances are wonderful, but I feel fine without all that hustle and bustle. I buy the ARA in print six days a week. It's like medicine. I have the feeling that a relationship is established with those I write to, even if I don't know them. The 21st century is already becoming a theme park. You only have to look at the United States, where they're making it bigger and bigger.

What is your best memory related to your profession?

— Many, many. I have flashbacks to when I was doing amateur theater with three friends from Manlleu. We wanted to go see Vittorio Gassman at the Grec Theater. There were no tickets, but we managed to sneak in by jumping over a fence, a little scared. We were able to see a solo he performed; it's a wonderful memory. So, the first day I performed at the Teatre Grec, I couldn't quite believe I was there, in the city's most iconic space.

And the worst part?

— When we were doing The miser at the Grec with Marta Ollé, and she died on the very day she'd been doing it for years. She fell from a fourth-floor apartment the same day we were scheduled to perform. She was a wonderful girl.

You've performed in packed theaters, but you've also had to perform in front of half-empty audiences. How do you manage these ups and downs?

— If you come from poverty, when you reach opulence, everything is wonderful. If you come from opulence, when you reach poverty, you suffer more. This happened to many actors and actresses of my time. I came from loading vans, setting up, acting, dismantling, loading the van again, going on and on. Then one day they told me: "No, no, don't touch this, we'll do it ourselves." These are gifts that were hard for me to understand at first. When I started working, there were no hours at night, and suddenly, in the professional world, I found that rehearsals were from 4 to 8. Obviously, there are plays that haven't gone as I expected, but over the years I've learned to accept what happens and that's it.

During the Trial, you took a political stand in favor of independence on several occasions. How do you see the situation in Catalonia now?

— In a short time, everything has changed a lot. We've gone from a world where it seemed like your individual actions had meaning to a much more hypocritical society where it's harder to take things for granted. Maybe I've grown older, but now I'm taking the next road and doing my own thing.

Wouldn't you take a position now?

— No, no, no. I'm one of those who think the power of the State is powerful and Machiavellian enough to monitor what you do, because they can torture you. The State is very cruel; power is unforgiving.