Oleh DRACH: "I have everything, and everything I have is here"

An interesting detail: Drach played Lukash in three different renditions of Lesia Ukrainka's Forest Song: the Institute's, the Zankovetska Company's, and one staged under a joint Ukrainian-US project. The latter presents a Hollywood love story concerning not the fairy-tale character but the actor. The female lead was played by a beautiful mulatto. The two fell in love and went to America. Two years ago Oleh suddenly reappeared in Ukraine. Alone. His story is recounted even by his enemies with a touch of personal, proud involvement.

What follows is less an interview with Oleh Drach than a collage of questions and answers going back almost to Adam and Eve ("...our family roots are in Galicia, although my mother was born in France, because her father, my granddad, had found a job in France on his way from an Italian internment camp after the end of World War I. Everyone was looking for a job at the time {the way they do now, although on a much larger scale}. My grandfather immigrated to America at the turn of the century, leaving behind his elder son Mykola. My father met my mother sometime in 1947, after she had returned from France with her parents. That was a rash decision, of course. They returned to Bolshevik Russia believing its propaganda picturing the country as heaven on earth. They would regret and mourn this decision long afterward.").

Q: While listening to your family history I felt that you must be placing a far greater emphasis on your family background, something few other actors care to discuss. We are accustomed to visualizing every actor as a self-centered person. Actors are believed to live each day and never think of what tomorrow might bring. In other words, an actor is not supposed to be aware of the metaphysical presence of history in his daily life. Any comment?

A: For me this current stage is especially important, because I know that I have not left Ukraine, that I am here to stay. We all know that the Ukrainian theater presents is in ruins; being any more delicate just isn't worthwhile. Of course, I could have made a career in the USA, Great Britain or Poland - and I mean a well-paying career that would secure me and my close and dear ones. But I am driven by what is perhaps best described as genetic memory; it's my inner awareness of being obligated to do something, anything, to make things easier and better in my native land. Those who run this country do so in a way that makes every creative individual start from scratch, trying to patch up the holes that always seem to reappear. It is time we realized that patching will do no good, that we must build a new structure that will not need any repairs for decades if not centuries.

Q: Your grandfather returned because he believed Bolshevik propaganda. What about you?

A: I think I know what you mean. History tends to repeat itself, often in a manner inscrutable to us. I made my choice being of sober mind and firm resolve. This theater is most directly involved in national history. It has a special meaning for me. I return to it whenever I can, contrary to all distractions like love or an attempt to earn more than I am formally allowed to. I also return when pained at heart. I can't walk Lviv streets during the day because I find myself surrounded by totally strange people, they make me depressed. I walk its beautiful ancient streets at night, taking in their unique architecture, listening to the chimes of church tower clocks. It is then I feel in the embrace of my good old Lviv. Sometimes I feel I have to get out of the city, anywhere, probably because my subconscious wants a change of scene. But I live in the real world. I live a normal life, and I think that I am following the right path, as much as possible under the circumstances. I am afraid to call myself happy, but I have everything, and everything I have is here.

Q: I heard that you wound up in America and then something happened to make you return.

A: I can assure you that nothing happened, except that after spending two years in the United States I had learned more than most of those visiting that country and not intending to stay for long. I played my roles and I spoke my lines in English. I could have stayed and renewed my contract (in fact, I have an invitation to act in a new production). But there was one thing: the difference between their shows and our drama performances. In Ukraine, people go to the theater because they want to see something they lack in their bleak daily lives, some sort of spiritual action. And I mean performance not the way it is understood overseas. To many in Ukraine the notions of theater and show business are still incompatible. In the West, money is the universal purpose and criterion, the dramatic arts included. We are not prepared to accept this, not yet anyway. If we start playing our roles just for money, we will be done for, once and for all.

Q: Granted. But the studio approach is fraught with the danger of creative self-destruction. Do you feel this?

A: Yes, I do. I would like to appear in a major production staged by a leading company. I would like to have normal working conditions like well equipped and warm dressing rooms with stagehands, where I would not have to work as a manual laborer lugging around props, office furniture or even washing the floor in between performances, although in Ukraine this has come to be regarded as a separate, special kind of artistic act. Hopefully, things will change for the better. I can sense that such changes are bound to occur in the Ukrainian theater. When? I don't know. It is like standing on the platform watching the train depart, gain speed, and being unsure of which car to jump in, knowing you are late and that in a moment the train will be off and out of sight. Or maybe I am just afraid to leave.

Q: Afraid? You did not seem scared to quit the Zankovetska Theater. What frightens you now?

A: The situation in Lviv was different. I quit and I didn't know where to go afterward. I was driven by an overwhelming desire to change my life. I feel this desire now, too, but I am currently too involved in the creative process. I know every nook and cranny, this is role in my life, so much so I cannot live without it. Every minute, hour, and day spent with it, working on it, meeting those friends who are the closest to me among all other fellow humans. Perhaps because our friendship is based on self-expression that can be accomplished only in our daily creative work. I mean friends, not drinking buddies

Q: Talking of drinking, they say that tea is the strongest drink you allow yourself on a regular basis. Do you?

A: Never trust hearsay. I am a normal man, given to normal habits and weaknesses.

Q: Is there anything about Zankovetska that still makes you nostalgic?

A: It was my first professional company, so every time I visit is like going home. I am very sorry I could not act in The Sea of Life, together with such splendid performers as Hrynko and Mirus, and that I will perhaps never play the roles I always dreamed of while with the company.

Fedir Stryhun I hold in the highest esteem, even though we see our creative paths differently. But we never try to find faults with each other's choices. I remember one exciting experience when Kuchynsky staged his Two Arrows. It was a unique chance for the Zankovetska Company to embark on a new creative road, one different in principle, especially with regard to the younger performers. Alas, nothing happened. In fact, this was the main reason why I and the others decided to quit.

Q: During your recent tour in Kyiv the overall impression was that the Les Kurbas Theater people had picked Zankovetska's inimitable creative baton, looking as ingenious and true to life. Do you have this feeling?

A: Of course. But you asked me what will happen next. I think that what will be will be. We cannot avoid the course marked out for us by history. Therefore, we must be aware of who we are and what purpose we are serving.

Of course, every individual must be aware of other people's response to his existence. Glory is the actor's watchword. However, before we dare identify ourselves as the theater we must do something with ourselves, learn to make others listen to what we have to say. And that is truly what history is.