Friends, actors and directors talk about the late Romanian actor Teo Corban, about what he meant for the people in his life, but also for theatre and film. A small part of the legacy he left us is here in the following lines.

***

A month ago, we lost Teodor Corban. Teo, as everyone called him, was one of the most important contemporary theatre actors and a remarkable presence in the emblematic films of the New Romanian Wave, despite his late breakthrough in cinema, at 48 years old. He was born and lived in Iași, where he passed away earlier this year, after several months of fighting a terrible disease (he was 65 years old).

He leaves behind an impressive activity: dozens of performances on the stage of the “Vasile Alecsandri” Theatre in Iași, where he was employed since 1989, and a filmography of over thirty titles, working with almost all the great directors of the New Wave. In 2006, the first main role played in a feature film, 12:08 East of Bucharest, by Corneliu Porumboiu, got him on the Cannes red carpet. Ten years later, he went to Berlinale with Aferim!, Radu Jude’s film, then returned, the same year, to Cannes, in the Un Certain Regard section, with Radu Muntean’s One Floor Below. He played in several other films and TV series, and his presence on the screen, however brief, always stood out.

His last role was last year, in a Belgian film, just before learning the painful diagnosis. Here, by Bas Devos, was presented at the Berlinale this year and was awarded Best Film in the Encounters section. Our colleague, film critic Flavia Dima, present at the festival, gives a brief description of his performance and of the actor Teo Corban in general: “In this last role, Corban plays with the heavy, rare and painful aura of the actor who feels his end is close – like John Cazale in The Deer Hunter – enhanced by a bittersweet background: that of a man who survived open-heart surgery, now carrying a renewed appreciation for life.”

 “Teo Corban was a film actor who glided with ease between the mundane and the acute, introspective. In this role, we see both the man who embodied the existential despair of Costandin, a lawman in the service of a sordid and brutal boyar who ruled a similar world (Aferim!), as well as the character he played in One Floor Below (Sandu Pătrașcu), hiding his fears and angst under the thin veil of everyday life until he cracks under pressure. While it would be a stretch to say that this is a summation role (after all, it’s a supporting role, even if he does “benefit” from a monologue), still, this final appearance of Teo Corban in Here not only concludes an exceptional career on a high note but also encompasses all the multitudes of one of the leading actors of the New Wave,” adds Flavia.

After the news of his death, we reached out to people close to him and the directors he worked with and asked them to share how they remember him, what made him special as an actor, and what he was like off the stage or set – an endeavour that resulted in a series of testimonial essays which attempt to paint a portrait of the actor and man of many traits that was Teo Corban.

***

Ioana Natalia Corban, his daughter: “Home was his favourite place, where he had peace”

Dad was a cuckoo. “Coo-coo,” he would often joke on the phone with mom in recent months, when he had to be isolated in the hospital. He was generally a solitary person. Home was his favourite place, in the middle of nature, where he had peace, surrounded by the forest, sighting deer from time to time – it was enough to recharge his batteries. He liked to sit and listen to music, drink a glass of fine wine, smoke a cigarette. He meditated a lot.

He dedicated his life to acting. Periods of hiatus were a torment for him. On the day of the performance, he detached himself from everything around him and focused only on what he had to do. In the evening, when he got home after drinks with the team, he would wake up mom, the person he trusted most, to ask her how it was – they would sit in the kitchen, light a candle and talk.

As a child, I used to go with him to rehearsals and follow him everywhere – I was fascinated by that world, which influenced me to become an actress. Although he was not very approving of my decision at the beginning, he prepared me for the theatre. He was a demanding and perfectionist teacher who rarely praised you. It was later that I realised it was his harsher way of telling me that I’m looking at a challenging profession. That’s how he was, honest and outspoken, which may not have made him everyone’s favourite; but he never sought to be other than himself. The lesson I’ll always remember him repeating to me: Bobo, never think “that’s it, I’ve learned everything”. Don’t let it get to your head, forget the awards, forget the applause, keep working. Stay humble, stay focused, stay as professional as possible. His breakthrough in cinema came late in his career and he was aware that it was a great opportunity. But he never boasted about it. And I wanted to learn the craft from the one I saw as the best – I was with him at rehearsals and on the set, we would read lines together and help each other.

Dad didn’t talk much about his feelings, but he made you feel life in a big way. When we were kids and struggling with money, he would sometimes perform at events, make some extra money, as he used to say, and we had this rule: we would all go to the restaurant. Mom scolded him, but it was his joy. I remember we went camping for one of our first trips – he borrowed the tent and when we got there we realised that the poles were from one tent and the tarp from another. He improvised something, only we had more bad luck, it rained the whole vacation. Dad slept every night with a stick in his hand, knocking the tarp so the water wouldn’t run over us. There was no question of leaving, he used to say: We’re here, so we’re staying the whole vacation!

I loved that about him, that he taught us we need to enjoy life regardless of what happens around us and how hard it is. He was always like that, optimistic, until the last moment, saying that it will be fine, and in the summer we’ll go again to Sorrento, in Italy, the place he had liked so much.

***

Constantin Pușcașu, actor and colleague at the “Vasile Alecsandri” National Theater in Iași: “Our characters may have been antagonistic, but outside the theatre, we were the best of friends”

Teo was, first of all, my mentor. I met him on the Friday after the Revolution. I was thinking of applying to theatre school and someone recommended me to him to prepare me for the admission exam. I remember it very well because we laughed about it for many years. I was to perform an excerpt from A Stormy Night, where Rică Venturiano stumbles into Veta’s room. Teo suggested that I perform this part wearing nothing but my knickers. Which I did. The teachers on the exam board were quite shocked to see me only in my underwear, surprised on the one hand by my audacity, but also by my “modern” take on the play, following Teo’s instructions.

When we became colleagues at the Faculty of Theater in Iași, we were often cast together – in the last ten years, I remember doing only one play without him. We also worked together on two TV series, Ai noștri and Mangalița, and in recent years we had this duo and we would stage different plays together. Teo had a strong personality so he usually played the bad character, and I was his rival, the good guy.  We always had this tandem. Until last April, when our roles were reversed. Teo had discovered Nunzio by Spiro Scimone, which was very different from the plays we usually had in our repertoire, mostly comedies. It’s focused on the relationship between two protagonists: a vulnerable and sick old man, who has had a hard life, played by Teo, and me, in the role of his master Pino, a tough mobster, who shows his affinity and love for his friend only after he is not there anymore. The show was called Terminal: Brazil and it was the last one we played together.

Our characters may have been antagonistic, but outside the theatre, we were the best of friends. We were of the same mind, we laughed at the same jokes – and Teo, for those who didn’t know him, had an incredible sense of humour – we spent a lot of time together. We became so close that our relationship became like a dependency. It was a way of life. Every morning I had this routine: I would wake up, take my kid to school, then have my coffee and call Teo. Our conversation always started the same way:

– Hey, man, how’s it going?

– What’s up, man?!

I’ve been feeling lost for a few weeks now.

*** 

Florin Lăzărescu, co-writer on Aferim!: “Such a shame about this actor who’s so great!”

I was very shocked when I found out that Teo Corban died, it left me speechless. I’m still at a loss for words. I met him on the set of Aferim! and we travelled together for the film premiere: first in Berlin, then in Bucharest, Cluj, Târgu Mureș, Sibiu. We also went to London. But Bacău was my favourite. We went just the two of us, with my car, we drove from Iași. We talked a lot on the way there and back. After walking the red carpet and enjoying a triumphal march, with sold-out screenings, dozens of interviews and press conferences, Bacău was a wake-up call – only 18 people in a mall cinema and five of them left ten minutes into the movie. There was no one to introduce us, so I moderated the Q&A. One of the viewers scolded me, “Why didn’t you put more action in the movie? Such a shame about this actor who’s so great!”. On our way back, it was almost midnight, we were talking about the incident, and Teo told me calmly, laughing: “Florin, this whole success thing could only end in a typically Romanian way.”

***

Corneliu Porumboiu, director: “Teo had a knack for cinema”

Teo was the kind of actor who challenged you – he would always have witty comebacks when provoked. That’s what I liked about him when we first worked together on A Trip to the City, my graduate film. I already had the main actor, Ion Sapdaru, with whom I had worked on Gone with the Wine, and I was looking for two more supporting actors. Alecu Condurache, my friend and director from Iași, recommended Teo to me. I met him for a coffee and that was it, I didn’t need him to audition anymore.

When I started writing the script for 12:08 East of Bucharest, I wrote it with Teo and Ion in mind. I had already worked with them, they made quite an interesting pair, and I pretty much knew what I could get from them. I was rather interested in the non-verbal sphere of the film – body language, tension, energy exchange and movement within the frame, which I felt they had a good grasp on. That’s something I generally like to achieve in my work with actors – maybe I can get them to a certain point, but in the end, it comes to them. And Teo had a knack for cinema. He was not theatrical in his performance. He had a way of customising his characters, making them unique, always imbuing them with something of his own. He came up with solutions that maybe I would never have thought of, and you can see that in the film – his tone when he gives a monologue, his gestures, his facial expressions, his reactions, it’s all part of his craft.

Although a comedy, the atmosphere on the set was quite serious. We were all focused, under the pressure of time, so it was low on humour. They say that when you make a comedy film and your crew is having a good time, it’s not going to be good because all the humour is wasted on the set. Knowing this, I was looking around, everyone was serious. Even one of the guys in the technical crew couldn’t help but wonder: “Really? That’s how you talk about this Revolution…?”.

That’s probably why our best memory of the film remains the premiere at Cannes; there was a great atmosphere in the room, there was laughter and applause – we were looking at each other, kind of surprised at what was going on. And Teo, on the screen, was giving one of the best moments in the film:

 “I have to teach you everything, and then you all leave for Bucharest!”

***

Radu Muntean, director: “For me, Teo has been for many years the reference in acting”

Without a doubt, Teo was the most important Romanian actor of the last 20 years. I know people may realise just now, looking back, what a great actor he was, but for me, he has been for many years the reference in acting.

The man was downright transparent, you understood what the character was going through with very few means of expression, without forcing nuances or abusing the technique. He wasn’t bringing the actor to the fore but was drawing from his sensibility and instilling it into the character, which made him human and memorable.

In one of the scenes in One Floor Below, perhaps the most important, Teo’s character is confronted by his criminal neighbour, who, blaming the act, reproaches the main character for not reporting him to the police. I think we shot almost 30 takes, several minutes long, and in each of them, when Iulian Postelnicu, the actor who plays the criminal, was asking: “Why didn’t you go to the police?”, you could see Teo turning red. Each time, he was taking on the character’s shame and guilt in such a way that his reaction was physiological and his cheeks were flushing red. Teo was living the moment, he was the character Pătrașcu and was reacting to the line every time with the same ingenuity. I don’t think something like that can be taught in school.

But Teo was a truly special man. He had a great sense of humour, sensibility and dignity. He was lively and hard-working. I will miss him a lot.

***

Radu Jude, director: “Simply his presence in front of the camera was enough”

I immediately agreed to write this small text in memory of Teo Corban, only to quickly find myself having a hard time doing it, feeling that I don’t have much to say about him, apart from some generic praise about his huge talent and his prominence in recent Romanian cinema. I looked through the pictures taken by Silviu Gheție on the set of Aferim! and found, rather surprised, that there are not many photos of us together. There might be some explanations for this, I think.

First, the nature of the film. Given that Teo was on the horse most of the time and we were shooting from a distance, I preferred to stay next to the camera and talk to him from there, especially since, for budget reasons, we had a very short period of time (only 23 days) to shoot the film.

There is also a second reason, which has to do with his extraordinary acting skills. I think it’s a known fact that making a remarkable film in terms of performance depends, for the most part, on casting the right actors. Going with a wrong choice in this field cannot be fixed by I don’t know what subtle directing indications. Probably, the only solution is to leave things as they are and own the mistake (like Warhol used to say, that if he made movies with professional actors, he would have chosen the worst ones). I think Teo was the perfect choice for the role he played in Aferim!. After a few rehearsels, everything went smoothly, and this is due to his skills, which I find difficult to define. Talent? Yeah, sure, whatever that means. Moreover, an extraordinary presence, the feeling that simply his presence in front of the camera is enough, that there is not much to add to it, especially since his skills were doubled by professionalism and an experience that made him adapt easily to smaller or larger changes occurring on the set. And finally, a trait that you can find less and less in actors as they get older: the pure enjoyment of acting. Teo had a great time performing and filming. And this pleasure infuses all the roles he has played.

I did find a few photos of us two though, I’m putting one here because, despite the seemingly overwhelming atmosphere, it was a moment he really enjoyed and found funny, especially for the Hamlet reference, although his text was actually a quote from Alexander Romance.

12:08 East of Bucharest, One Floor Below and Aferim! are available on Netflix.

Anca Vancu

Journalist. She worked for ten years at Adevărul and DoR as a reporter and for a while in communication. At Films in Frame, she coordinates the whole team with Laure, while also editing some of the articles about the film industry, trying to always find interesting angles to tell a story.