Roger Coma: "I have many flaws, a big ego, and I seek recognition."

BarcelonaRoger Coma's seven-year professional block has come to an end with the monologue This shouldn't be done, which is being shown until April 15th at the Espacio Texas in Barcelona. Halfway between thestand up In the autobiographical account, the actor explains the anecdote of being commissioned to deliver the eulogy for an aunt he hadn't really met, and infuses that hour with hilarious reflections on the difference between what we do and what we feel, based on the mechanism of focusing so closely on a detail that a small chasm emerges. We take advantage of the new show to review the career of one of the most restless figures of his generation.

The monologue is called This shouldn't be done. What exactly?

— Wow... It has to do with the fact that in life I always find myself doing things against the grain. I do a lot of things I shouldn't do, like so many people, by the way. And those things always have a very ironic, laughable impulse. They're ridiculous and have to do with the protocols you have to follow in life, from presenting awards to giving a speech somewhere... You can't say no; you do it with a fabricated conviction, and, of course, it's fertile ground for comedy. But I really like that artifice, because theater is precisely artifice.

When is the last time you heard yourself sound ridiculous?

— I feel pretty ridiculous whenever I have to speak highly of the work. And now that I'm doing so much promotion, I often feel ridiculous. Because it's one thing to write the script in private, and another to talk about it. Giving it hype, that unnatural thing, is like going against Mother Earth.

With all the hardships you describe, have you ever cursed the day you decided to become an actor?

— No, not in the least. Every day I wake up, I believe I've chosen my job well. If I've ever thought that medicine has more immediate effects on people's health, I immediately remember that happiness or narrative also have them, because it's something atavistic. We've always told ourselves stories, and all day long, what we're really doing is telling ourselves a story about what's happening to us. A story that can be depressing or hilarious. Professionalizing this and having the tools to control your own story is quite healing for people, isn't it?

When you first had your calling, you probably didn't have it so far in mind. Do you remember what first drew you to acting?

— It was Joan Solana, my Spanish teacher, who forced me to go and do The Shepherds Because he said he read really well in class. I didn't want to go at all, because theater seemed like a colossal tacky thing to me. But I tried it... and I felt great, even though none of my friends were there, and as a teenager, all I wanted was to be with them all the time. This shows that the nature of it was something that resonated deeply with me. And I stayed. I studied chemistry and science-related things, until there came a time when I realized I was already devoting myself to this. I took the high school exams, and everything kind of came naturally.

In the show you laugh at the As if it were yesterday and its minimal plots. But you also defend the substantive jobs that actors often take on: not everything has to be transcendent, you say, and a job is sometimes just a job. Is this the case with the TV3 series?

— There are no jobs that are purely nutritional and others that are purely spiritual. It's a matter of degree. As if it were yesterday It has a lot to do with the amount of material that needs to be produced, but at the same time, it allows you to reach places that you can't reach in theater or film. With the number of flight hours, you have a tranquility that the camera perceives, and then it exudes a life that's very difficult to achieve in theater. And the camera is very close. In film, on the other hand, everything has a different importance: it's treated like an altar, but the popularity of the series is quite unique, and I strongly defend that. At the same time, of course, it also has a nourishing side.

You follow the As if it were yesterday?

— Every now and then I do a marathon and catch up on what's happening, but I don't follow it every afternoon, no.

I asked because I was told that you don't watch many series.

— Not many. None. I don't like spending so many hours on anything, actually. And even less so now. The older I get, the more I feel like life is so much fun and watching TV shows is an escape or isolation. And that I don't need it.

One of your most remembered characters is Roger Brunet, from Misery Pig, who had a very dark side. Joel Joan told me that they had to put a little eyeshadow on you because, naturally, you emanated too much kindness.

— Yes, it's true! And it's not the only time I've had some minor alterations made around my eyes. Lluís Pasqual, playing Pinter, also painted on some of my eyebrows for the same reason: because I looked too good-natured.

And does this good-boy physique match the interior? What percentages of good and bad would you assign to yourself?

— I'm a person who's always restless, but inside I'm a good guy. And I see people around me who are much more down-to-earth and kind than me. The acceleration I have is something neuronal, but I try to be a good person. Now, I have many flaws, a big ego, and I seek recognition. But flaws are also allies for the creative engine. In the monologue, I expose all these flaws. Since I'm embarrassed to insult other people, I insult myself.

In May you will be representing A closed menu, a text by Jordi Casanovas about new and old masculinities. Do you consider yourself deconstructed in this area?

— For the times I live in, I consider myself pretty deconstructed. But, of course, you can always deconstruct yourself further. My mother wanted girls and raised us with a sensitivity that I had experienced as a teenager. I remember a couple of guys at the disco when I was 14, there in Banyoles, doing something very rude. "Come here, girl!" they would say to me.

In the monologue, you talk about being an actor in Catalonia. Is it different from being an actor anywhere else?

— I go through life trying to be very open, and to be interested in a traffic light, a falling shopping cart... If these small things can be given a dimension, hilarious or mystical, whatever, then that interests me a lot. And doing projects that can reach the Latin American market, because we have that sister language, Spanish, I feel it's unnatural.

It could simply be lucrative.

— Yes, but there's a divine maxim that strongly restrains me and, at the same time, asks me to tell the stories that have happened to me. It's a shitty responsibility at kilometer zero. And the fact that the country is small and has a low ceiling has many more advantages than disadvantages. You quickly get to know everyone, you reach all positions. People who are talented, or who have a lot of drive, easily reach the place they need to reach: it's a very controllable microcosm. Now we've realized that we can all be rich and should be billionaires, but this is nonsense.

Don't you care about money?

— I like having money, yes, but when I start doing things for money... I find it doesn't work out for me. When I get to work, I care more about whether the stories or projects I do resonate with me. If not, I feel miserable, and that's why I think money comes second, deep down.

Do you feel like you're going against the grain? The prevailing narrative is that we need to internationalize, grow, and expand.

— I feel like it's one of the few things I'm very clear about. So, I don't think about whether it's right to think about this or not. Sometimes, when you're working on a script and it doesn't work out, it's often because they're self-commissioned ideas you think would be really appealing, but they don't move you or they don't stem from an inner need or introspection.

In Catalonia, there's a strong tradition of physical humor, parody, and local coloring. But your humor is more intellectual, more neurotic.

— I guess so, I identify more with the brain's unstoppable discourse. My reflection is always about behavior.

And is overanalyzing an instrumental mechanism of your comedy, or do you also break things down on the street until they are reduced to absurdity?

— I need to defuse the importance things take on, and humor is ideal for doing this. I have a tendency to overemphasize things, so it works as an antidote for me. It's exactly like imagining the most powerful people in the world defecating, but on a smaller scale. Because all behaviors are laughable. Writers often write about memories because they're so tempting and charged with emotional value. But I like to walk along and let life permeate me... until ideas appear like mushrooms, which is what interests me.

Next year it will be ten years since you made a pioneering web series: The big thingsIt was a popular hit and only cost 40,000 euros. Did you recoup your investment, though?

— Yes, because the series was already sponsored. But we couldn't find a viable way to do it later. Theater offers different business possibilities: you can do 10 shows or you can do 200. In audiovisual media, on the other hand, either a network buys it and pays you what it's worth, or you can't do it for less. It was one of those things you do when you're young, and you have a strong need to tell something or put yourself out there. Was it clearly a call for attention, to say, hey, I'm doing this, okay? But then, when you can't monetize it, you're stuck. There's no second alternative circuit in the audiovisual world. Or maybe it is, but I haven't been able to find it.

"When you're young," you said. Don't you feel it anymore? Nine years isn't...

— Oh, I didn't have kids before, and I think that pretty much does it. Because when you don't have kids, you're the most important person in the world. It's a cliché, but it's pretty much true: having them changes the situation and alters your own GPS.

How has fatherhood changed you?

— For the better, infinitely! They also arrived at a time when I already had a solid career. I could look back and think, "Wow, I've come a long way." But I feel quite torn. When they're in school, I feel a yearning to see them and accompany them to extracurricular activities, and suddenly, the persona you'd built up completely deactivates. When I didn't have children, I began to develop the neurosis of permanently constructing an identity, and this is very unhealthy, but it has a lot of potential: it's a very productive form of unhappiness. Now, however, I live in a very unproductive happiness.

So, have these been difficult years, professionally speaking?

— My crisis started just as I started having children. Now I have three children, and I've spent seven years stuck starting projects that never panned out, never progressed, never grew... until I did the monologue and the plug was lifted a little. That's why it's an exorcism of myself, and I take a snapshot of this time and where I am in my life.

What did you need to relocate?

— I'm not really aware of what's happened. Neither of what blocked me nor what's unblocked me. I feel like part of the journey has been like this, and now I'm on another part of the journey. But I don't know how to hyper-aware of what it's been.

But was the strike due to the blockade or because circumstances were not favorable?

— It was an internal block, right? I've blamed it on having children, but simply having children has calmed me down and made me accept the block with greater grace and sportsmanship. But the block was personal and internal. It was about not giving myself permission.

In any case, you touch many keys: you have done plays, television, radio, film, you have written books...

— Yes, but these were things before I had children. Now I've been doing things, but more on commission, on contract. Because, here, creating things is expensive. That's why I say I needed to do this monologue and that I owed it to myself. Besides, I had a lot of freedom to do it because, ultimately, I don't care too much about the judgment of what comes from outside.

Have there been times when you were more susceptible?

— Yes, 100 percent. Very, very much so. Sometimes your judgment of what others will say is stronger than your debt to yourself for doing it. Now it's becoming more balanced.

Projects where you will be in 5 years, for example?

— I would like to pull quite a bit on this thread of monologues and also on all the work done with The big thingsWhat I like most is the authorship, deep down.

You've been one of the official handsome men on television in Catalonia. How have you handled that position?

— Yes, I've played a leading man many times. Films require you to be either a leading man or very distinctive, and I played leading man, but it wasn't a strong choice either. It's been more of a crutch, which has helped, but not a strong commitment. I haven't needed injections, to be clear. But now I'm losing a little hair... and I don't know if I like it! I've always felt... I wouldn't say uncomfortable with that role, but, well, what I really want is to tell stories. And the older I get, the more I need to tell a point of view.

You do the show in flip-flops, and I thought it would have some meaning. But someone explained to me that it's simply that you always go, whether it's August or February.

— But it does make sense! When I proposed the staging, on the first day I was dressed more elegantly, wearing shoes. And someone said to me, "It's not exactly you, because you always wear flip-flops." And I thought that, in the end, if this show is an ironic snapshot of who I am, then I should allow myself to dress as I normally do. That is, in flip-flops.

Finally, who would you like to be commissioned to write your eulogy? You can name three.

— I would ask Maria Nicolau to make some roast beef croquettes and present them in a Tupperware container. They don't eat much at funerals. The magician Lari could do the coffin thing that magicians do with swords. And, of course, Tortell Poltrona could say the Spiritual song by Maragall, which is one of the first texts I learned.