Articles

THE SOCIAL EDGE INTERVIEW: PLAYWRIGHT AND ACTOR ROSA LABORDE

by Gerry McCarthy

Salvatore Antonio in Léo Photography by Cylla von Tiedemann

Rosa Laborde is a 27-year-old Canadian playwright and actor. She is a graduate of the Oxford School of Drama. Her play Sugar was selected by Toronto's NOW magazine as Outstanding Play in 2003. Currently the play is being made into a feature film.

     Laborde has acted in numerous plays, including: Lust's Labour Lost, Nurture, Svengali's, and Pericles. She is currently in CBC TV's At The Hotel.

     Her new play Léo made its world premiere at the Tarragon Theatre on February 14. The play is set in Chile before and after the 1973 fascist military coup that overthrew the presidency of Salvador Allende. Politics, poetry, and love intersect in the lives of three young people caught up in these events.

     I reached Laborde in Toronto to speak about the play.

Gerry McCarthy: Léo is the main character in your play. He places poetry above politics. At one point he says to Rodrigo: "We can't change the world. The world changes us." My heart aches for Rodrigo. He's the idealist in the play. But can you talk to me about the significance of Léo's line?

Rosa Laborde: My heart aches for Rodrigo as well. He's such a beautiful soul. You feel he's interested in the well-being of all humanity. He has hopes that you can make a difference --that if we banded together we would be able to make a difference.

     Léo was why I wanted to create this character. This character felt important in North America in the luxurious way we live compared to the majority of the world, because we're able to pick poetry over everything else. We're able to pick Starbucks over everything else. We've become apathetic and selfish. I don't mean it to be a judgement. I mean it about myself too (because these thoughts come in self-examination).

     But that's why Léo chooses this kind of sensual life: The need for things, sex, food, wine, and poetic discovery. Why this is more important than saving the world. The truth is that in our world there are more people --it would seem-- that feel the way Léo does. They see things going on in the world as a train wreck outside of themselves. The idea that "We don't change the world. The world changes us" rings true. Because for Léo we could change the world, but we really can't, because there's too many of us who just don't care. So we don't change. We become victims of the society that we created.

From left to right: Cara Pifko, Salvatore Antonio, Sergio Di Zio in Léo Photography by Cylla von Tiedemann

GM: Toward the end of the play the Allende presidency in Chile is overthrown by a brutal military dictatorship. You've said that for the young characters in the play these events in Chile were the "death of hope." Can you talk to me about this?

RL: It was the death of hope and growth for these characters. That's what interested me in this age range at the time of the play. Especially because it was pretty much the age that my mother was when these events happened in Chile. You would be so young, idealistic, and brimming with who you are (and who you might be).

     In high school you're half-baked. You're this person who's almost a person, but you're so sure of everything. For this to be the moment hope would die, and the world would say: No it doesn't work that way. That's what interested me.

GM: You've said this isn't an autobiographical play. But there are bits of your family's history in the work. What prompted you to write this play?

RL: The character of Léo was my first hook into the play. It was the idea of this person in our society (made up of people I've met --and parts of me) who wants to live this well-taken-care-of padded, sensual life. At the same time, there's the war going on outside of us in the way people are living. How do you balance those two counterpoints? What is the balance? Is there one?

     I first thought of Léo and this character --and the possibilities of the play-- when I was volunteering in the slums of Bangkok. I was 24. It was the time I started writing the play. I looked at the slums and thought: I can't change this. All I can do is be here, volunteer, and help. But I can't necessarily make a difference. There are industries that are so much bigger than me. That's when it really hit home for me.

     I also started to think about the idea of sharing, communism, socialism --and our desire to make the world a better place. How these ideals don't necessarily work in relationship. Do you want to share everything in a relationship? Do you want to share your lover? Is that okay?

     What you believe is right idealistically might not be right for you. In the play we learn about the founder of the Socialist party in Chile being a wife beater. What does that mean? Does one good outweigh another?

GM: Recently Michelle Bachelet was elected as President of Chile. I understand you travelled to the country not too long ago. What were your observations?

RL: It was the most socially aware I've been on a trip to Chile. I arrived there the day before the first round of elections. I was back in Canada by the time they elected Michelle Bachelet.

     People work hard in Chile. They work hard here too --and there are people struggling everywhere. But there's a palpable sense in Chile that they don't have a choice. It's that way anytime you go to a Third World --and Chile is the least of the Third World. But the difference between what people have and don't have is much larger. When I'm walking down the street --and someone is painting a fence --there's a sense that they had no other choice.

     The fact is that if you go to a public school in Chile you will never be able to get into a university. Because the public school system is so low compared to the private school system. If people can afford it their kids are going to private schools, because they can get into university. If you don't have that to start --to climb the ladder is nearly impossible. You feel the injustice of this.

GM: The final scene in the play has Léo being tortured. Is that right?

RL: Yes

GM: What's happening in this final scene, because Léo is the least idealistic of the three characters. But I sensed a change in him.

RL: There's an absolute change, because he's had this event where he's lost the two people he loves most. Of all people, he's in this chair now dealing with this torture. His big event comes with the line: "Well if there's enough food why shouldn't we feed everybody?"

GM: You're a graduate of the Oxford School of Drama in England. Was living in England a culture shock for you?

RL: It was a total culture shock. I went when I was just turning eighteen. I finished high school and said: I'm going to England to be classically trained. I auditioned in New York and was accepted. When I was first in England at the school I couldn't understand half of what people were saying. It was pretty crazy.

     I also didn't realize that I was now going to be alone in the world, because I was far away from my family and the life that I knew. They say people in England are unfriendly. Coming from Ottawa at first I thought people were unfriendly. Then I started to realize that people were just honest about how they felt. They don't sugar coat at all. But I learned a dry sense of humour when I was there.

Gerry McCarthy is Editor of The Social Edge.

     Léo runs until March 19 at the Tarragon Theatre in Toronto, Ontario. Credit for Photograph of Rosa Laborde: Cylla von Tiedemann.