Josep Maria Pou: "I cry a lot lately. Alone, but I cry a lot."

BarcelonaJosep Maria Pou shows me the photo he has as the background on his phone: it shows a disheveled Jordi Pujol, his tie askew, a living image of defeat. He tells me he's spent hours and hours looking at him, during breaks in filming and in the mornings, preparing the scenes, to put himself in the shoes of the former president of the Generalitat (Catalan government) in the film. Our Father, which hits theaters this Wednesday. The actor gives us two generous hours to talk calmly about theater and life.

Pujol is the most imitated and parodied Catalan character of our time. How did you prepare for the role to avoid falling into caricature?

— The producers explained to me that they wanted to make a film about Jordi Pujol, his family, and his grandfather's famous legacy. I took the script and, out of professional obsession, asked, "What's my character?" And they said, "Jordi Pujol." Of course, I said, "Are you crazy? What's the matter, do you want to cut off my legs?" And they said no, they didn't want an imitation of Jordi Pujol, and that the proof was that they'd call me, who's six feet five inches tall, to play a man who everyone knows should be six feet seven inches tall. This absolutely defined the intention of the film.

But do you think they saw something Pujol-like in you?

— If we have thought of you, they told me, it is because your personality gives us this image of you.auctoritas, of power. And it's true that I've had this representation of authority many times in the theater.

It's not the first real character you've played, but it's probably the closest, in time and space.

— Yes, and this made me think a lot before deciding. In fact, it's the project that has scared me the most beforehand, but I thought my age also helped. Pujol is fourteen years older than me, but I'm already 80, which is roughly the same age he was at the time of the events depicted in the film. I left home every morning to go to the shoot, and I couldn't help thinking that while I was getting dressed or rehearsing the first sequence, Pujol would be having breakfast, or reading the newspapers, or strolling just ten minutes from where we were shooting.

Did this condition the interpretation?

— It worried me and filled me with enormous respect for a living character, because I'm incapable of harming even a fly. Nothing could be further from my intention than to lose respect for him and harm a living person. This worried me greatly and made me uneasy. I couldn't stop thinking about it for a single moment during the month-long shoot. It didn't overwhelm me, but it made me feel that the material I was holding was very fragile, and that I had to treat it with care.

Have you visualized the day you will meet him face to face at some event?

— I don't know what will happen if I miss it. I'll find him or he'll arrange the meeting. I don't know if he'll say thank you or if he'll say, "Oh, I shouldn't have done that." If he'll say, "I was very upset about it" or "I was very happy about it." I don't know what his reaction might be.But I dare say he might like the film more than the rest of the family. He might understand much better why it's being made and what its outcome is.

The film moves in a delicate balance, because its objective is neither to save nor condemn Pujol.

— I'm sure the film will spark controversy when it reaches audiences. Some will be disappointed because they expected more blood and guts, and therefore, will be disappointed, and others will be upset because they expected more exaltation and elevation. But it's fantastic that these two radical and different opinions meet in the theater watching the film.

If we had asked Pozo the day before receiving the assignment what Pujolism suggested to him, what would he have answered?

— I must say that I didn't experience most of Pujol's reign in Catalonia, because I went to live in Madrid and didn't return until fifteen years ago. Now, for me, Pujol is the figure of the politician, the true statesman. I dare say that Pujol is one of the greatest politicians in recent Spanish history. I'm not talking about moral conscience or ethics. But politics is the art of good relations, whether between countries or between people. And no one can say that Pujol wasn't a perfect networker, if that term is understood. From the very beginning, he knew how to connect and make the great project of his dreamed-of Catalonia coexist with possibilism: he knew at every moment what was possible, what wasn't, and when progress could be made, something that those who came after him didn't understand so clearly...

"Catalonia now lives in the realm of emotions instead of reason, and that's bad." That's a quote you said in 2018, in the midst of the Process. Do you think the country has become more rational since then?

— Ours is a country that has emotions are very, very, very raw. Literally speaking, we could say that she has a big heart and lets him be the one in charge. The one whoThis is sometimes an advantage, but at other times it leads us to make mistakes. Being more rational, more mathematical, would have avoided some things that have been too disruptive. The Process setback put many things in their place and has caused many people who functioned by heartbeats, pom-pom, pom-pom, suddenly to not listen to them as much and to use reason more. There has been much more rationality in recent years.

And, in your case, do you consider yourself more of the heart or the mind?

— [He ruminates and smiles.] I think I have a good balance. I wouldn't have completed 60 years of nonstop career if I hadn't had an unbridled passion for my craft, which is theater. But even in my personal life, I'm a man of great passions. Or perhaps I should say it in the past tense. The fact that you live a long time helps you realize that one's personality is ever-changing. I've realized that the years have made reason, at times, assert itself a little more, and I've reined in my heart to tell it, "Don't get so carried away."

—

I've heard you say more than once that theater is sacred. I've never heard you say that about film or television, however.

— Because for me, the sacred thing is the stage, the performance in front of a live audience. There's something ritualistic, ceremonial about it. On film shoots, there are sublime moments that leave your skin crawling, but in the theater, there's the communion of the audience that occurs in a specific moment.

Isn't this ability to feel electricity used up?

— After sixty years in the theater, and with all the experience in the world, when the councilor comes to my dressing room and says, "Josep Maria, five minutes and we'll begin," I stand up, and I wouldn't say I'm shaking, but I do remember the feeling I had when I was an altar boy as a child and it was time to start Mass. I felt something that seemed to me to be already theatrical. With each performance, a unique ceremony begins that will end there, closed in on itself. And this is what I like most about the theater.

Speaking of ceremonies and officiants: who has more power, a president or an actor?

— Not to exaggerate my opinion, but I believe an actor has more power than a president, because an actor has a weapon that a politician doesn't have, although he would like to: the ability to create imaginary worlds and convince others that they are absolutely real. Of course, a president can imprison me, erase my life, or make me disappear, but we actors have the power of the enormous complicity of all the spectators who come to the theater every day. And they believe the lie we tell them because they know it's good for their lives. These are new imaginary worlds, but in the long run, they can be used for reality. That capacity of the imagination is much more powerful than any decree you can sign.

And how have you managed that power?

— What I've always tried to do is be conscious of this. If you look back over my 60-year career, I'm very proud to say that you won't see a single performance that's a joke. What has always motivated me to do a performance has been the belief that it would serve to leave the audience minimally transformed. When I look at the projects I'm offered, my first objective is never whether I like the role, whether I'm going to be successful... No. I ask myself: "What purpose does this performance serve the audience?"

But it will be inevitable to evaluate whether the character will shine.

— No, no. I've never said I wanted to play a character to show off. Neither King Lear, which is the pinnacle of character, nor Captain Ahab from Moby Dick, which was a huge challenge, or my character in The father, which was a success and moved all of Spain. I, the latter, hadn't even chosen it, and I was very reluctant to do it until I was convinced that there was a lot of confusion about mental illness and the performance would help understand it. More than personal achievement, I've always sought usefulness in my work. I've considered myself a mere transmitter.

Have you really never succumbed to vanity?

— I suppose I have the vanity of wanting to be the best thing that character has ever done. But that vanity is essential to going on stage. Going on stage is like stripping naked, and it takes incredible courage. You have to be absolutely convinced, even if you delude yourself, that what you do can't be done by anyone else. Look, now I remember a line Pujol says to Father Ballarín in the film, when the priest tells him he's done bad things, but also good things. And he replies: "You don't know about that, you don't know how much courage it takes to sin."

Returning to Pujol, one of his concerns is the legacy he will leave behind. Do you feel that need?

— Sixty years of experience will be worthless, but I don't care. I've been very aware of it for a long time. I'm a militant advocate for my solitude: a very solitary person. I've never married anyone, and I'm talking about being married in every sense of the word. I've defended my independence tooth and nail, and therefore, I have no sense of having created anything I can leave as an inheritance. Look, the only technological thing I have, because I'm not on social media, is my website, which is a gift I received and which I consider my legacy. materialThere's a lot of information posted about each title, and I've collected a huge amount of documentation on all the productions. I think it can help understand the history of these last 50 years of theater. My intention is to put all this on the website. It's something I'm doing personally, little by little, and it's one of the reasons why I'd like to retire and have more time.

Little drive for transcendence, then.

— There is a phrase that makes me very happy and is the essence of my profession. It is Macbeth and he says: "Life is nothing but a passing shadow, a poor comedian who boasts and struts for an hour on the stage and then is no longer seen." I have no feeling, no will, no vocation for transcendence.

You don't leave children either.

— You see, there's a coherence here, right? I don't even need to transcend biologically. There are people who might tell me there's a lot of selfishness in this. Maybe so. But I don't have any sense of transcendence. Do I disappear? Well, I disappear.

In any case, your journey through the world is now well documented. And the mark remains in memory.

— It will only remain in memory until the last man who ever saw you live dies.

And doesn't this distress you? The writer can still be read two hundred years later.

— No, no. Because, besides, our acting profession is very difficult. You read Shakespeare today and you're drooling, but now you watch recordings of theater actors who were once highly admired and respected from forty years ago... and you die of embarrassment. Styles change, and so do the ways of relating to the audience. It's better not to let this go. Better to forget it. Every now and then, they post one of my performances on YouTube and send it to me, but I'm horrified and would like to delete it. I wish it would disappear, and I'm dying of embarrassment because what's valid is what I'm doing now. I'm a different actor now than I was last year, let alone ten or fifteen years ago.

At the end of the film, Pujol speculates about whether he'll have a street named after him. When you're gone, wouldn't you at least like that public reminder?

— I'll reveal something I've never mentioned in the press or anywhere else. About four years ago, the mayor of Mollet, where I live, called me to tell me he'd spoken with all the groups in the city council to change the name of Can Gomà, which is where the theater is held, even though it's not a logical space for it, to Josep Maria Pou. I said no, absolutely not, that I was too embarrassed. He insisted, and I didn't have the heart to oppose it radically. In the end, it was approved unanimously. Now, that was four years ago, and no one has changed a single sign, nor has anyone done anything, not even a plaque. From time to time, someone tells me I should protest, but I haven't said anything, because I have no vanity in this regard.

I know it's a bit of a stretch, but if you had accepted, I would have suggested renaming Gran Via, a street you've walked up and down hundreds of times, memorizing the text.

— Yes! Especially heading towards Plaza España and Montjuïc: that's my study route. You would have found me walking yesterday, because I'm studying for the new performance I'll be doing in June at the Romea. It's a performance that in English has been called Giant And just this Sunday, at the Olivier Awards, it received the award for Best Feature Film of the Year in the United Kingdom, so I didn't make a bad choice at all. It deals with a very current topic and describes a very specific moment in the life of the writer Roald Dahl, when he wrote an article about the conflict between Israel and Palestine in which he not only declared himself anti-Semitic, but directly called for the destruction of the State of Israel. It caused a fiasco, and some of his books were even withdrawn. On stage, they reenact the enormous debate he had with his editors, who asked him to retract his work. And he refused.

Now that you were talking about retiring, you explained a while back that you wouldn't tell anyone beforehand. That it was a pleasure you reserved for yourself. Since you're preparing a new production, this means that this moment hasn't arrived yet.

— It would seem to me the culmination of everything we've talked about, of defending my independence and solitude. My job has a social aspect, but I'm a man who loves to come home to my books, my freedom, my schedule... And the culmination of it all would be that no one would know from the start one of the most decisive moments of my life. This belongs to me and no one else; I don't want to share it. Now, the next day I could explain it and say: "Gentlemen, you won't see me again." You know what happens? I'm also a little embarrassed by what I've seen in many actors on farewell tours... and then they come back.

Deciding what day you retire is also a fight against biology. In fact, in The father You played a person with Alzheimer's. I suppose losing your memory must be every actor's first nightmare.

— Being an actor involves, from the outset, learning lines by heart. Otherwise, it's impossible to go on stage, and it's an incredible suffering for you and others. I've seen a colleague start rehearsals and have to drop out due to memory problems, and it's the most terrible thing. The paradox is that an actor's working material, like stone for a sculptor, is his life and emotional experiences. Everything he's lived through makes him a better actor, plus everything he's learned about his craft. But then, when he has the best stone to make his sculpture, with all this experience, comes the great tragedy of the body, of nature. And memory fails. The heart fails, the legs fail, the energy fails. At 80, he could no longer perform.King Lear who I did it when I was 60. Or Ahab, where I spent twenty minutes naked underwater. But I like that, that fragility, too.

Losing your memory is also losing your identity. Which makes me wonder what the identity of an actor is.

— The easiest answer would be to tell you that an actor's identity is the sum of all the best identifying traits of all the roles he's played. Theoretically, a pure actor would be an actor without identity, a stick on which you can stack words. But this would be artificial intelligence, in a way. And therefore, my answer would be to say that an actor's identity is that of his personal traits, given to him by biology and genetics. Of course, he must be malleable enough to pick up small things from some of the roles he's played, which have forced him to understand and put himself in certain situations he would never have put himself in. But, thinking even more deeply, perhaps the most accurate thing would be to say that an actor's identity is the image others have formed of him.

This incorporates the viewer, who is your obsession.

— I mean, Josep Maria Pou... is what the audience thinks Josep Maria Pou is. I believe our identity lies outside of us. And this is a great advantage; it's liberating. I don't have any desire for suicide, or to die, or anything like that, but disappearing has been an obsession of mine for a long time. Disappearing and not knowing what others are saying. There are some graphic documents, testimonials, and all the audiovisual material, but if it all burned, I wouldn't care at all, because I have no vocation for transcendence. I like the idea of "He's disappeared" and, poof, that's it, it's over. I really like thinking about death, even that of loved ones, like, poof, people disappear and that's it. Nothing happens.

In any case, if you were condemned (or blessed) to have to live out your remaining years transformed into one of your characters, which one would you choose?

— Man, that's tough! It might be tempting to say King Lear, which is the pinnacle.

Beware, though! King Lear dies of grief.

— Now, notice that he dies saying five times: never, never, never, never, neverI think it's one of the most wonderful endings.

What would make you die of grief?

— I cry a lot lately. Alone, but I cry a lot. I should go to the doctor to consult about it, because it must be something biological: it wasn't like that before. For the past four or five years, it brings me a certain happiness to see that I'm capable of being moved. I immediately get a lump here, and tears well up in my eyes, when I see acts of kindness. It can even happen to me when watching those television contests where people come out to demonstrate a talent. With age, I've become much more sensitive. Perhaps it's a consequence of experience. But what truly makes me cry inconsolably are injustice and inequality. I find it ignominious that, in our times, there is this enormous inequality between rich and poor. I know you can tell me that I could do things to fix it. And within my means, I try. But really what distresses me most is injustice and inequality.

We looked for a less tearful alternative, then.

— Then I would say Martin, the protagonist of The Goat or Who is Sylvia?, who had such a great capacity for love that he was able to fall in love with the eyes of a real animal, a goat. The audience didn't understand it, but he fell in love. I also like Captain Ahab, but you can't live forever hunting whales... Or the character of Celobert, by David Hare, who was absolutely in love, madly in love, a transit we could say, with a huge open wound: a multimillionaire in love with a left-wing girl, a teacher, who lived in a social project in a slum.

Therefore, I will conclude that you would like to live in love.

— Yes, in love. Man, the thing is, living a character in a perpetual state of love... But yes, love. Love for many reasons.