Damn the stage

Rabih Mroue believes that Lebanese theater is a thankless, sadistic mistress; and success takes time and plenty of passion. Not to mention an aversion to money.

My aunt always says the stage won’t buy your bread…

She’s probably right. I mean I worked full time in the animation department in Future TV, and I worked hard at the stage and felt that it was my real job; but I demanded nothing from it. Twenty years later, in 2006, I gave all my time to it and began to live off it, to live decently.

20 years seems like an awfully long time…

All professions have difficulties. Once upon a time, the theater was booming just as, say, graphic design is today. The booms will change but the professions will always come down to the individual, to the level of personal effort. The cinema is like this, all arts are like this.

So it’s the lack of talent? No one around you shows promise?

That’s a problematic question, and something of a trap. I can’t judge anyone else; you can never tell. At some point I worked very hard and proliferated. Some years ago I wrote a play and by chance it became popular and left the country. Since then all my work leaves the country. There’s a lot of talent about but there’s also a lot of luck involved.

But can the country support this talent?

Peter Brook was once asked: ‘how do I become a stage producer or director?’ His answer was simple: producers are not appointed, they are self appointed; your job then is to convince people that you are a director. When you’re not working, you’re not unemployed. Unlike an actor, a director decides when to work and when not to.

Individual talent, individual steam; gotcha. But you said the stage once boomed; didn’t the previous generation of directors help at all?

During the ’90s wars, we were working on a play with a big name producer. The war came along and they felt depressed, these masters, and we the youth felt that we can no longer wait for the older generation to help us work. We will work ourselves. I spoke to my friends and we agreed to work with each other, each creating plays and contributing to everyone else’s play. From that group I still have Lina Saneh, my wife. All the others decided they were actorsinstead, and they truly shone in acting.

Before I go, what’s your favorite place in Lebanon?

The sea itself. A city overlooking the sea is incredible, it’s the most attractive part of Beirut. This is my city, my first and last. I’m an urban person, a child of the city. Beirut is the definitive city. Beirut is an ugly city, beautiful in its ugliness. Wondrous in its ugliness. The spirit of it, the life, it just boils. It’s full of dumb and smart people. It’s not that people are dumb or smart, we’re both dumb and smart. This isn’t a duality and that’s the point. It’s a blend, a mix.