Interview Łukasz Twarkowski

Respublika will feature large screens and the actors will be filmed and live-streamed during the performance. How important is this image?
‘Respublika isn’t all about image; instead, it’s a composition of multi-layered, alternating narratives. The actors will be in a large space resembling a film studio. There, we will recreate the rooms in which we lived when we moved to the forest. The audience is free to move around the entire space, enter all rooms; there will also be an amphitheatre where the viewer can take a seat and observe the action from above, with a clear view of the screens. It’s all about a shared experience, though. Respublika has three different parts. The first will be like an exhibition, the second a video installation performed live, and the third will be the experience of a rave. So, I would say that this is more of a musical event with elements of a performance, and not a performance with musical elements. Here, the DJ panel will be the central thing.’

So how much theatre should we expect?
‘I have no idea what theatre means these days. I can’t stand the thing that usually is called theatre. At work, we often say: “Stop doing theatre.” Nowadays, theatre on its own is no longer enough. We need to search for new forms that are in crossroads. In particular, when you work with video, you see how many other ways of storytelling can be found in those intersections. Things that can’t be reached by theatre or video alone, can be accessed by applying and blending the two. This synergy is something completely different. Respublika is a massive installation that creates the sensation of being in the whirlwind of action. Of course, the viewer can choose to merely observe everything from the platform.’

You say that the audience is free to explore all spaces and to be near the actors. Won’t there really be areas where the audience should step back and stay out of the actors’ way?
‘Since there will be quite a lot of people, we will warn them at the beginning to give some space to the actors. The audience can speak to the performers, but if they see an actor with a camera approaching, they should try not to get in the way. You can enter all performance spaces, we don’t forbid anything. After first rehearsals with the audience, we’ll see how it all works. It’s an immersive play, so you can’t see all of it in a single viewing; multiple scenes unfold at the same time and the viewer will have to choose whether to watch the montage, or walk around the set and observe the action off screen. Next time, the viewer can choose another trajectory and see different things.’

Why do you think traditional theatre is no longer effective?
‘We live in a world of images, communicate through images, and are always logged in. Therefore, in theatre, we’re always searching for new ways to tell stories. We try to learn and define how the contemporary individual thinks and sees the world. We’re becoming more and more cyberized, we never log off: often, we even stare at two different screens at once. That alters our comprehension, our minds function differently. Maybe that’s the reason I search for transcendence, both in this performance and in my other works. I find it in the rave subcultures and in rave itself. So, if we want to tackle such subjects, we need new forms of theatre to do it. Theatre is an experience. A play is never just images.’

This play had an exceptionally lengthy preparation process. I am talking about the creative retreats, where there were no rules. The actors had to decide how to occupy themselves. You observed and filmed them, and they shared their thoughts, feelings, and confessions. The actors were really away from their families and from modern conveniences, they had to work, manage somehow, and come up with ideas. Was there any discontent? Was it a difficult experience?
‘Initially, it wasn’t easy. I always saw this project as an experiment. The first weeks in the woods were odd for everyone, as we announced that there would be no rehearsals: we would barely even think about the play or the end result. The aim was to imagine what it would be like to really remove ourselves from civilization for a year. The project is based on a community outside of society that tries out the idea of universal basic income. We see how quickly everything is changing and it’s obvious that soon there won’t be enough jobs for people, so you start thinking, what’s next? Maybe we won’t need to work anymore? However, we quickly realized it wasn’t that simple. It’s much more complex. We contemplated an individual’s position in the contemporary world. We are constantly receiving contradictory messages that leave us feeling helpless and lost. Because whatever we do, we’re causing harm. To others, to the planet. There are no good choices. Whatever we do, we damage something. In response, a group of people started raving as a way to resist the hopeless situation. It might be absurd, but, on the other hand, what can we do?’

But isn’t it the opposite, isn’t rave an escape from this world, a musical distraction?
‘Yes, it is. That is another important theme for us. There’s a line in the play: “It takes effort to push things away and forget oneself.” In communities like this you try to open yourself up, access your ulterior states and other people, and create a temporary autonomous zone, but if you want to leave it all, even the rave group, you must reject all and forget all. That also requires an effort. Moving back to the play, trust is the most important thing. In our group, it evolved very quickly. Everyone uses their own personal stories, of course, but that’s common everywhere. This project is a mockumentary, so you never know if the actors are speaking as themselves or as characters. This allows freedom.’

Some of the actors confessed that before this creative process they weren’t interested in electronic music and even didn’t like it, but they changed their minds after becoming involved in this project.
‘Yes, all you need is the right way to share it. You can’t just force someone to listen to a few tracks from the comfort of their own home. It’s not just music. It’s a shared experience. Our first few weeks in the forest were devoted to developing a love for electronic music. We wanted to demonstrate how it works, how complex and nuanced it is. Most of the actors would never dance for so many hours on their own, but now dancing was an assignment. Eventually, they felt the flavour of the experience and were shocked by how long they could dance, and, ultimately, it became easier. Also, the DJing lessons really opened people’s eyes. They nurtured a love for electronic music. Once you learn mixing music yourself, you understand how difficult it is, what an unbelievable journey. There were even queues by the DJ panel because everyone wanted to play music, and we only had one panel. Once you start, you can’t stop, and the hours go by.’

All the actors shared their impressions, emotions and confessions before the camera. Did you also talk about your discoveries on camera?
‘Yes, indeed, I made confessions too, not many, but I did. It’s an unbelievable experience. I didn’t expect to have so many of them. Now, after all the creative retreats, we have over 50 hours of video footage. All confessions are very different. We filmed in the daytime, at night, at dances, during insomnia. In them, you can feel the characters being created before the camera.’

How long did it take you to select the excerpts?
‘Oh, don’t ask. I worked on it for two months. I narrowed 50 hours down to just two and a half. And now I’ve handed the job over to the editor and the playwright. They need to trim it, as, at this point, I think it’s all essential, but it still needs to be shortened.’

Are you a fan of electronic music and rave? What do you find in them?
‘Of course! I’ve always listened to electronic music, but it wasn’t particularly important until 2006, when I went to a rave festival in Crimea, Ukraine. Activists from the Czech Republic had been playing and raising funds for a whole year so they could present electronic music at free events in Eastern Europe. They thought electronic music was becoming too commercial. The movement started in Detroit, and then conquered the United Kingdom, then France, Spain, Italy, and, finally, it was time for Eastern Europe. Personally, the music was cathartic. My time in Crimea made me realize that if I ever needed a temporary autonomous zone, it would be rave. Rave is also a statement. Trying to explain the feeling and state of it sounds esoteric, as there aren’t enough terms to describe it, but one thing is certain: it’s a very important experience. Researchers into trance music describe the first time they felt that shared joy of joining as a community and dancing to the same rhythm, and how that became a breaking point in their lives.’

In these hurried times, it’s a brave and controversial move to invite an audience to a six-hour-long event, especially since you say the play is about being a contemporary human, and is suited to the current mindset, worldview, and interests.
‘Rave is inherently anti-capitalist. It requires time. You go to an electronic music event to break away from the world for a few hours. Often, drugs and psychedelic experiences are part of it, but even without them, just dancing rhythmically for a long time causes a strange feeling of losing the boundaries between me and you, between genders, and between age. You feel absolute freedom. You’re with others, but you could be on your own. You can be who you are and who you want to be. Dancing for so long is, in a sense, unproductive. You accomplish nothing for hours. But nowmany people are scared of being unproductive, so the duration of Respublika is also a statement: “I deserve it, I need it, and the rest doesn’t matter.”’

When speaking of Respublika earlier, you emphasized community, freedom, and universal basic income, but the play also focuses on climate change and sustainability.
‘I see the issue of climate change as a landscape of our psyche or mindset. If we’re speaking of a community moving into future, climate change is an especially relevant and unavoidable topic. We see its denial throughout the world, with loads of money being funnelled into that denial, tough. We know that catastrophe is coming closer; we know that we’re killing our planet…’

You know it, but maybe not everyone understands it as clearly just yet…
‘Maybe, but let’s just say we know, I know, our team knows. If you read the news, the topic is unavoidable. It’s very strange that we all know about it, yet do so little. We feel helpless, we think our efforts have no impact; after all, there are so many large factories causing much more harm and we can’t stop it. When I think about the future, I see this as one of the greatest threats. I wonder how our children will live. We know that in 40 years it might be almost impossible to live on the earth; it will be reserved only for small groups of the wealthy. There is also a degree of denial among the members of Respublika; not all of them, of course, as they are all individual characters, but, in the end, they do represent the landscape of the contemporary human. Therefore, they dance with no hope. They can’t find answers, so they rave to survive. The dance becomes sad, because the individual is aware. These aren’t the naïve protests of the 1960s, when it seemed possible to change the world. Electronic music reflects a strange link between humans and machines, and therefore it is the music of the future. The link between humans and technology is probably the answer to us feeling like we live in a cyber world. Technology and algorithms are taking over various fields. Electronic music becomes an environment that mirrors the times in which we live.’