Nausicaa Bonnín: "I live in a world of privilege and, suddenly, there are things that I don't realize"

BarcelonaNausicaa Bonnín (Barcelona, 1985) is waiting to do the interview with ARA reading Garlanda, Maria Rovira's book, who confesses it's making her die laughing. Dedicated to the world of acting since she was very young – she went on stage before she was ten – she conveys a sense of someone grounded, without airs and with a lot of naturalness. This Sunday she premieres 33 días on Atresplayer, the first fiction series born from Carles Porta's factory and based on the Brito and Picatoste case. Bonnín plays the Mossos d'Esquadra investigator in charge of the case.

33 días is based on a true story, the escape of Brito and Picatoste, which was already told by Crims. Does it add pressure that it's a real case?

— More than pressure, I think it adds depth and that always adds up. If there is something that generates a bit of tension, it is the respect for all the people involved in these cases. Not only them and their families, but all the families of the victims, who deserve respect and a very careful view of history. In the end, from some real facts we generate a fiction, and you will never know what is fiction and what is reality. Well, you will know by watching Crims and comparing it with the series. In the end, like everything, it starts a bit from the same seed, which is Carles Porta, obviously everything is quite homogenized.

Did you have a direct relationship with Carles Porta?

— It has been quite a satellite, but in the end, it is a project that arises a lot from him. We were talking a lot with him and we watched the episodes, the podcast, we read everything we had. It was interesting because we had quite a bit of material, such as the letters they wrote from prison. It is super interesting when you can prepare a character not only from imagination but also from palpable things.

Crime series and true crime are booming. What is your relationship with the genre as a viewer?

— I am very little of a spectator of true crime, although at the time I got hooked on Crims. But I'm not a big fan: these things impress me a lot. I think fiction also comes in waves and now true crime has a very wide space.

Is your character in 33 days real?

— It is a character made from different police testimonies. This is quite liberating because you can take whatever you want from whomever you want without the pressure of being someone.

You play a police officer in a very masculine environment. Does being a woman bother you?

— Unfortunately, security forces were at that time, and still are, a very masculinized circle. Now there is a slightly more open space. My intuition is that you have to keep going through the addresser of masculinization to be able to make a place for yourself. But at that time, obviously, a woman with clear ideas, who came from the Civil Guard, was someone who had to earn her place in a very energetic way. And the profiles of bosses you encountered, as is the case with Pau Durà's character, forced you to place yourself in a very firm position.

As your character, have you ever noticed that because you are a woman, you were bothering somewhere?

— I haven't had this feeling as much in the world of acting, which in the end is a place where vulnerability or fragility plays a role. I believe that as women actresses we have other fronts that have more to do with our voice, our power, or our sexualization.

You are performing 'L'autora'L'autoraat Teatre Lliure de Gràcia, a play that talks about patriarchal structures within creation. Are these patriarchal structures still in operation in the audiovisual world?

— I believe they are intrinsic because they are intrinsic to power. That is to say, we understand power from an absolutely masculinized place, therefore, everything that has to do with power, such as direction, creation, having a voice, giving yourself permission to have a voice, are things that have a lot to do with masculine security and power. Precisely, what the author tries to talk about, or I interpret that she wants to explain, is how to try to create or direct or have a space not from authority but from doubt, fragility, or vulnerability. Not from the classic structure of introduction, knot, and denouement, but simply by opening questions, opening debates, generating discomfort, not seeking the result, but valuing the path.

After the feminist explosion a few years ago, it seems that now it is harder to talk about these issues in public discourse.

— Let's see, I think any revolution or movement is not linear, but has its ups and downs and, therefore, feminism has had all these waves. The Me Too was front page of everything and everywhere and, therefore, it was also an absolutely capitalizable topic: it was interesting to talk about it and it was interesting to classify everyone according to whether you were at one extreme or the other of the equation. I think that now, surely, we are trying to continue doing this work perhaps from a more grassroots, more in-depth place and not so much from headlines. Feminism is not a fashion, but there are times when it is talked about more due to certain issues, as was the Me Too. But, in the end, capitalism is also so fierce that today we have to talk about this and tomorrow we have to talk about something else and that's how we do it. But I think it's something profound and that we are working on: I think it's a struggle that remains alive even if it's not always in the headlines.

Lately, you have also been part of Com si fos ahir.. Traditionally, TV3's soap operas have had a very strong representational function, showing LGTBI stories when it was not yet common to see them on screen. Do you think they still have this power?

— In this sense, I am very proud because I believe that TV3 has made great contributions. With Cites [where I appeared for three seasons and lived a love story with Laia Costa], I felt something very heavy that went beyond my profession. It was precisely that, shedding light on a lesbian story not from trauma, but from light. It was something that seemed very normal and natural to me and, suddenly, you realized that it had opened many doors and had given the green light to many people. I still receive messages and emails, and people stop me on the street.

The story that you and Laia Costa interpreted had many fans.

— I had ultrafans! This also showed me the need for diverse representation. In the end, I live in a world of privilege and there are things I don't realize. When things like this happen, you see how everything is very focused on what is normative. Now, with Com si fos ahir, we were also telling a lesbian story and there's no need to champion anything. The midday series seems like a very beautiful thing to me because, without being pretentious, it puts things on the table. It's a series that has a very diverse audience and now we are very used to series being very niche.

They are series that make viewers feel very close to the actors. Is there still recognition on the street?

— I notice it much less now. In the heart of the city, for example, I noticed it a lot. There, for me, it was like "Oh, wow, what is this?". Of course, I don't know if it's me who experiences it differently or if we've moved somewhere else. With The heart of the city we were still living a bit of that where people saw you and spoke to you as the character, which doesn't happen anymore. But no, I don't have that feeling much. And if they recognize me, they quote me more Cites than Com si fos ahir, very strong.

When you were living the explosion of recognition on the street, at some point did you feel you were losing your bearings?

— I have the feeling that no, but perhaps someone will tell me I've lost my mind. I've always been very clear about my center and my place, but I don't know why, perhaps it's due to character or upbringing. I suppose coming from the world of theater, it's something I have very naturalized, it's my job. In fact, sometimes I err on the contrary, by downplaying what we do, but culture and fiction are absolutely essential to change certain perspectives. It's good to have this grain of sand consciousness, but for me, it's surreal to believe that I am who knows what just because I appear on a TV3 series. It seems ridiculous to me.

Do you also experience this surrealism when you have to go to awards galas, like the Gaudí or the Goya?

— I used to argue about it more. Now I think it's part of the industry, of our work and of how we sell our work. I think the problem lies in this abyss between how cinema is sold and what it really is, which many times is also very precarious. It's a show, even though they are places where you risk a lot because emotionally, even if you don't believe in awards, you are trembling because you want them to give it to you. I mean, if you play, you play to the fullest and with the greatest enthusiasm. I only go to these places if I have something to do, if I have a nominated film. Going just for the sake of going doesn't make me feel comfortable.

Aina Clotet, who is your friend and with whom you have worked, has just gone to the Cannes festival with her first film as a director. Have you considered making the move to directing?

— It's very strong because this topic has been coming up a lot for me lately. I have to analyze why, I think it's something about trajectory and age. There's something about "what's the next step when you've been doing something for a long time and you're 41 years old"? Directing. It's something that fills me with so much absolute respect that I hope one day I feel I have something to say and do. But it seems very complicated to me, I have to be very sure of what I'm explaining.

You grew up in theaters, watching your parents work. With your daughter, have you followed the tradition?

— She is small, she is not yet six years old. I think she is experiencing it very differently from me. I have the need to protect her childhood and for her to do what she is supposed to do at her age. I have the feeling that, at times, I was ahead of myself, that I was doing things for adults because that was the bohemian lifestyle at that time. Now we live it from another perspective and we also have other possibilities: I have the possibility to leave my daughter with my mother and I do. I don't remember what I was like at five or six years old, but in the end it's work and doctors don't take their children to operations. It's good that she knows what I do and where I am and that she comes to pick me up, but I think everything comes in time.