Jacqueline Dobreva in conversation with actress Albena Stavreva on her solo performance “In the Dark”, which she also authored. A production of ‘Ivan Vazov’ National Theatre and part of the festival’s Showcase programme.
You’ve mentioned that your character in In the Dark, Gichka Kukuto, was inspired by Dana Kukuto – a figure from Diana Dobreva’s production Vazov’s People at the Ivan Vazov National Theatre, where you also wrote part of the text. How did that creative impulse evolve into a solo performance? What did you retain and what did you reconsider in that transition?
Yes, in Vazov’s People I had the good fortune of Diana Dobreva trusting me and giving me the opportunity to play Dana Kukuto. She chose to keep a short text in the show that I had written myself. That really touched me and gave me confidence. The text was in dialect and very comic, as the characters in that scene were women on the run – a very specific female world. The similarity with In the Dark lies only in the nickname Kukuto – nothing more.
Diana knows that I write. I have published a poetry collection. Whenever I write something, I get so excited that I want to share it with everyone. And if someone is willing to listen – that’s wonderful. Diana listened. And I think that her attitude, her attention, gave me the confidence to write something of my own – in my own way.
That’s how the character of Gichka Kukuto began to form in my mind. While writing In the Dark, I filled with notes and texts four or five notebooks by hand. There were so many events, so much vivid life surrounding this character, that the hardest part wasn’t creating it – it was choosing what to keep. I had to let go of many stories I loved so that the performance could breathe and be well structured.
The performance ties the personal fate of the character to a collective ignorance that is both a shield and a curse. To what extent do you see “the dark” as a state of mind, a social diagnosis, or a philosophical stance?
For me, “the dark” begins with a very childlike perception – a literal understanding of the word, as a child might see it. That is the starting point of the performance. Gradually, through the course of the story, the character goes through an inner awakening. She realises that the darkness is not just hers but a universal human condition – that we all, as people, live “in the dark”.
As the play progresses, the meaning of the word evolves – from unknowing to un-seeing. And then comes a beautiful shift: if you manage to truly look into another person, they become a vision. At the end of the performance, when the character becomes aware of her age and the approach of death, she says something I myself believe – that first we live as visions, and after death, as invisibilities. That’s a personal belief in the continuation of life beyond.
So it all begins with a child’s simple and pure perception, but gradually dives into deeper layers – social, philosophical, even metaphysical. At the core lies the belief that every person matters, every person is important – even if they’re different, even if others consider them “mad”. The character in the play is just that – others perceive her as crazy, but she’s not. She is simply very pure. A childlike soul, untouched by life’s roughness.
Using dialectal language evokes a specific cultural context. What does that linguistic choice mean to you?
Using dialect in the play was a deliberate decision. I didn’t want it to be tied to a specific village or region. I wasn’t aiming to study dialects. Rather, I was looking for a sense of a Bulgarian village that could be anywhere. The character could easily be from a small town. I’m from Veliko Tarnovo myself, but we spent every holiday in the countryside, and that was an incredible experience – a sense of freedom, play, and life.
Through my work at the theatre in Smolyan, I travelled around many Rhodope villages. I’ve filmed in different parts of Bulgaria. This life journey gave me a rich linguistic experience, and I wanted that to be felt in the performance.
The dialect I use is rooted in the speech of Haskovo and Tarnovo, but I’ve included words from various corners of Bulgaria. There’s even a bit from Macedonia and Serbia – beautiful, poetic words, rich in meaning. They carry an inner wealth that I deeply wanted to preserve and convey on stage.
The title “In the Dark” was suggested by a colleague of yours, the theatre director Javor Gardev, who is also credited as a consultant on the performance. Can you tell us more about this collaboration? How did his perspective influence the dramaturgy, structure, or concept of the performance?
Whenever someone asks me, I always say the same thing – I will always be deeply grateful to Javor Gardev. We hadn’t worked together before. He belongs to a younger generation, but I know his work well – I’ve seen all of his productions and have tremendous respect for both his theatre and film artistry.
When I showed him “In the Dark”, he responded immediately – came to see the performance on a hot June evening, watched it in full, and supported it. He liked it and offered his support, including suggesting the title. That meant a great deal to me, because he wasn’t obligated to do any of it. He simply did – because he’s an artist who recognises and stands behind meaningful work.
We met the next day – had coffee and talked. The first thing he said was that the performance was about an hour and ten minutes long. In his view, a solo show should be at least an hour and twenty. I hadn’t even timed it! Then he asked, “Can you extend it just a bit more?” And I immediately said, “Yes, yes, yes! I cut so much! I can bring some of it back right away!” I asked if I could call him the next day to read him the added scenes, and he said, “Of course!” It was incredibly inspiring. A wonderful experience.
He also pointed out something important – toward the end, I was trying to portray fog using a piece of plastic. And Yavor said it didn’t fit, because everything else in the performance was very clean, organic, natural. And he was right. The next day, when I called to read him the new scenes, I asked: “What if the fog is cigarette smoke instead?” And he said: “Yes, that would work.”
Javor Gardev is a great artist. And a great person. That generosity, that gesture, is an example of something very important – something we all, especially in Bulgaria, should learn – to rejoice in someone else’s success. To be happy even when it’s not “yours”. Just because you believe it has value. And if you can help – to do it. That’s a lesson I’ll never forget.
“In the Dark” is a deeply personal and multi-layered project in which you are not only the performer but its creator in every respect. What challenge did it pose for you to unite these roles into a cohesive artistic structure?
Yes, “In the Dark” is a very personal project. The truth is, I didn’t set out to become a director, scenographer, costume designer, or poster artist. I paint as a hobby, but this was something else – as the author of the text, I knew exactly what I wanted to say with every word. Each phrase, each subtext was deeply thought through and felt. And perhaps that’s why I felt the need to build the entire image of the performance myself.
Everything in it is minimalist – from the set design and costume to the lighting. And this was the first time I’ve ever been so completely involved in every aspect of a theatrical work. But I can’t imagine someone else directing me in this piece. Not because I don’t respect directors – on the contrary, I admire their work. It’s just that in this particular case, the feeling was different. The text is so personal that it seemed to me that only I could bring it to the stage the way I felt it.
“In the Dark” is more than theatre to me. More than acting. It is my sense of the world, of people, of life. Everything I’ve wanted to express over the years but didn’t have the chance or space to do – here it found its form. I’m someone who has always cherished art – good theatre, great cinema, music, exhibitions. And now I finally had the chance to say something myself. As a person. Not just as an actress.
Do you identify with your character?
Yes, I can identify with her. In some aspects, I see myself in her – even a bit of my daughter. The character lives for a long time without realising she’s old – she still feels like a child. That’s why others see her as “the madwoman”. But in that absurdity, in that childlike gaze at the world, I find myself too.
What’s also important to me in this character is the question of good and evil – how we understand them. I’m not talking about specific events, but about principles. The character has no parents, and I had the joy of having the best parents in the world. Surely everyone thinks that, but for me it’s true. And precisely because I know what it means to have such parents, I can feel the pain of children who don’t have that support.
In the play, I ask the question – who is truly the parent? The one who gave birth to you and abandoned you? Or the one who raised you with love and care? For me, the answer is clear – a parent is the one who cared for you.
The character also ends up in situations of manipulation – and that’s another theme that concerns me. I believe no one has the right to take advantage of another person’s naivety and kindness. Even when someone can’t defend themselves, they can sense they’re being manipulated – and they often forgive. That ability to forgive and to believe the other can change is very human.
At the end of the play, the character forgives the children, despite their cruelty toward her. She’s someone who believes in miracles. And I too – though less often now, but still as I did as a child – still believe in miracles. For me, the very fact that “In the Dark” came to life is a miracle.