Juan Gil Navarro: from the work inspired by his journalist father to his new life in the countryside
Juan Gil Navarro stars in two of the series premiering on August 14: Nieve roja , which can be seen on Flow, and En el barro , on Netflix . He's also part of the cast of the play Druk , at the Metropolitan Theater, and in September he premieres Pivote , on the off-screen version. Restless and passionate about his work, the actor hopes to complete his own project that revolves around the world of journalism and politics, perhaps inspired by his father, Manuel, who was a journalist and worked in Congress for many years. LA NACION spoke with Gil Navarro, who has just moved to Capilla del Señor and is putting the finishing touches on his house.
-Let's talk about Red Snow , what was the experience of filming a science fiction thriller rarely seen in our country?
-It caught my attention because I love thrillers. And this one has all the ingredients, and it's supposedly set in Antarctica.
-Did you go to Antarctica to film?
No, it would have been fantastic to be able to go. But no, those kinds of productions won't be made anymore, or they'll be made differently, or they'll be made by people who might consider those production delusions. We did it in a studio, with a wonderful set, made by a very talented team. And for the part that simulated the exterior, we had spherical digital screens, which allowed for that sensation, along with snow machines and a host of other things. So everything you see is actually simulated, and it's a bit of the technology that's been developed for Marvel sagas, for example. Not even Hollywood has those actors in natural settings anymore.
-And is it harder to film like this? Because the actor has to imagine the place.
It's more disappointing, I think a priori, because as an actor, it's always much more interesting to have contact with living things. Standing in a myrtle forest isn't the same as standing in front of a screen and pretending you're in Bariloche. There are a number of elements that affect you as an actor: temperature, aroma, location, weather conditions. These things are like an actor's yeast. So it's not the same, but something approximate. But it's very good because it has to do with the timing and the revenue of this industry.
-When you received the books, what attracted you?
-I think it's a good idea to try to get into science fiction. I grew up watching movies that blew my mind, like Blade Runner, Solaris, and 2001: A Space Odyssey . It's a good attempt, because it's a very difficult, very demanding genre, and it requires a lot of concentration. Otherwise, what ends up in the editing room won't be saved (laughs). Red Snow is about seven people who go to Antarctica for a prize; they all belong to some kind of megacorporation and, of course, they're seduced by money. They all have a psychopathic bias. It's a kind of George Orwell experiment... It's still Big Brother in the middle of Antarctica, with the added bonus of what each one is willing to do to get their hands on the money, and that leaves aside any humanity. And they disappear one by one.
-You are also premiering En el barro , which is the spin-off of El marginal , very different from Nieve roja .
Exactly. My character is the governor of the province of Buenos Aires, who is finishing his term and seeking reelection. He's in the middle of a campaign, and he decides to conduct it in a somewhat Shakespearean way, serving the interests of people living in prison conditions. A plot unfolds after a visit to this prison with his wife (Justina Bustos), who can't have children. At the same time, he's running for the future governorship of the province with the character of Gerardo Romano. I understand they've made two seasons; I was in the first, and we'll see what happens and if there's a third. I suppose that, if it works, they'll want to continue the saga as they did with El Marginal .
-Were you a fan of El marginal ?
-Not really. I don't know if it's right or wrong to say it, but I don't like the romanticization of marginality. I think Latin America is stigmatized for having to talk about that. And it bothers me because I'm sure we have a much greater capacity to talk about other things. The tumbero culture was a discovery with Sol Negro and Okupas . But that's it. There's a kind of romanticization in saying that living deep down isn't so bad. This thing of playing at being peripheral has even been mixed into music culture . It seems like a game of snobbish millionaires to me.
-But you were interested in this character from In the Mud .
-Yes, yes, yes. I tried to think of him as some kind of Shakespearean character. Regardless of ideology, I believe people will do anything to cling to power. I thought it was cool.
-Are you doing anything else fiction?
-I have two audiovisual fiction projects in development. I'm promoting one with an author friend, Lautaro Vilo , and it's a series about journalists called Close to the Revolution . When I presented it in Spain, before the pandemic, I remember saying: "Imagine a global revenge pandemic." And the Galicians asked me: "A what?" (laughs). And then the pandemic came. I took it to a couple of places, but I know that at some point it will come to life.
-Were you inspired by your father, who was a journalist?
He passed away a couple of years ago, but he was a political and economics journalist and a correspondent for the DyN news agency in Congress. Let's say it's somewhat inspired by his surroundings, because I often went to have coffee with him at Casablanca, a bar on the corner of Congress. And I've walked the halls of Congress, I've listened to many politicians, many journalists. And I accompanied him to the DyN newsroom. I always wanted to tell a story that had to do with the collusion between journalism and politics. The truth is, I'd like to see it published; at some point, it's going to happen.
-And you also said that you have another story to tell…
-Yes, I'm more jealous of that other one, but it has to do with life, celebration, and death. And with a love story. These days, it seems difficult to promote those things, because the algorithm dictates that they have to be morbid. And while stories of crime and torture continue to win, what opposes them is a love from a somewhat clichéd place. And I'd like to think we can do better than that.
-We didn't know about your love of writing...
Yes, I love it. I've been for a long time. In fact, I worked with Gabriel Dreyfus as a creative for a while before I started as an actor. And I remember when I used to write very long texts, and he told me that being a film director isn't the same as being a good photographer. My parents have always been avid readers, and they would tell me stories or books halfway through so I'd keep reading. For me, the word carries a very strong weight. And I firmly believe it's transformative and highly persuasive these days. But it's a rarely used alchemy. Less and less used.
-And you're one of the stars of Druk , at the Metropolitan Theater. As the play suggests, do you also believe we're missing a 0.5% alcohol level in our blood to be more creative?
I've done a lot of research on 0.5 and 1, and 1.5 and 2 as well, over time (laughs). When we started rehearsals, what occurred to me was that wine was born at the same time as theater. It's a drink invented as an offering to Dionysus, who is the god of theater and wine. And I thought, "How wonderful to be able to do this and talk about a celebration." Of course, there are excesses like those of Dionysus, who would go out to chase the nymphs through the forest. Going over 0.5 is terrible. But I never experienced it as some kind of apology for alcoholism. In any case, it seems to me that Druk points out how this society experiences its anguish through consumption. Not through the consumption of alcohol, but through the consumption of anything. The Danes and all the Nordic people have a relationship with alcohol that serves to awaken other demons. We, being more Mediterranean, are more carnivalesque. I think alcohol helps you let loose, celebrate, dance, seduce, have fun, think, and not rip your head off. We'll continue with Druk until November and then return in January, and there are also tours planned. Plus, on September 5th, I'm premiering a play at El extranjero.
-Are you going to do off-screen theater too?
Yes. It's called Pivote , and it's written and directed by Benicio Chendo, the son of an actor, Gerardo Chendo. We'll be there on Fridays at 11 p.m., so I'm leaving Druk and heading to El extranjero. The play is absolutely wonderful. I should clarify that Benicio is 21 years old, a brilliant kid, and he wrote about youth and the relationship of conflicts with parents. I play the father of six children. I'm very happy to be part of it. The first day I went to rehearsal, they had already set up 70% of the play, and I felt like I was entering a highway on a bicycle. They were speed! (laughs). And five of the kids are studying at the conservatory, and they all play an instrument; they all have wonderful diction and are charming, and they like movies and they read and speak beautifully.
-Does that take you back a bit to your own beginnings?
Yes, a little. I've answered this question in different ways, and the most honest ones have been in therapy. Becoming an actor was about wanting to be loved, wanting to live other lives, wanting to be someone else and then be myself. But when I started studying, at 16, I fantasized about the conservatory, and my parents weren't very happy about it. So I took a different approach and continued taking theater workshops, and suddenly one thing led to another, and I was standing at a casting call, and that's where it all started, with Montaña rusa otra vuelta (Russian Mountain, Another Turn) . Then I got an agent, Bertolt Brecht's first professional play appeared, called Las Visións de Simone Machard (The Visions of Simone Machard ), and I didn't want to back down. I've always been lucky enough to do a lot of theater, and I also got exposure through television. At the theater , Pablo Echarri, Carlos Portaluppi, and Oski Guzmán mentioned that people come to see us because they know us from TV, and we've been a part of their lives through television.
-It seems like your life is all about work… Or do you have other passions?
-Yes, of course. At one point, around the end of 2023, I started studying film. And although I did a semester and then dropped out, it's another great passion. And I like motorcycles, cars, the road. I like moving from one place to another and thinking, and arriving at some remote place, stopping to eat something I brought with me, or going somewhere to eat. Right now I'm taking care of a house in the country and I'm in contact with the sun and the greenery, the trees and squirrels jumping from one place to another.
-You seem to be very lonely.
-Yes, I am mostly solitary.
-Are you in a relationship?
-No, I'm alone now.
-You just moved to Capilla del Señor, a few kilometers from Buenos Aires, where you perform theater. What weighed most heavily on that decision?
-Since I was very young, I wanted to get away from the city. I never felt like a porteño, not at all. In fact, if I've ever been praised, it was when I was told I don't look like a porteño. There are things about the city I never really liked. I had the fantasy of moving to the interior and emulating a bit of what Damián De Santo had done with his cabins in Córdoba. Because I thought it was totally possible. After I got married, I put that idea aside, and when I worked with Justina Bustos at ATAV (Argentina, Land of Love and Revenge) , I went to Unquillo, in Córdoba, where her parents live, rented a guesthouse from them, and fell in love with the place. I told myself that when I returned to Buenos Aires, I would look for a piece of land and build a little house. And that's what I did. I looked a lot until I ended up in Capilla del Señor. I was there for nine months and moved in a month and a half ago. I went through all the vicissitudes and folklore of construction. Everything they told me came true. I didn't argue with anyone, but there were moments of great difficulty, of things being done wrong, and of corrections. It's the closest thing to filming a movie... That's what I thought while I was building. And I said, if I can build a house, I can also film a movie, because it involves a delicate harmony between all the parts, and if you get angry or offended with someone, you're screwed.
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