How Do We Face Our Dirty Heritage?

Theatre scholar, translator, and educator Handan Salta sat down with Ionuţ Caras, the director of the play, 9 Shames and other scandalous scenes from Romania’s recent past, which was included in the festival program of Lucian Blaga National Theatre. The two discuss the process of creating a show that puts a country’s most shameful (and sometimes contested) moments center stage and what that required from the cast, crew, and audience.

Handan Salta: Ionuț, first of all, congratulations—the performance is striking. It deals with events that remain emotionally charged and, in many ways, unresolved in collective memory. The events portrayed in the play are not easy to swallow: The king takes the entire treasury and flees the country; the 1941 pogrom against the Jews; because of the ban on abortion and contraception, some children grow up in state institutions while others are sold to organ-trafficking networks or to childless families abroad; people die in fires simply because necessary safety measures were never taken; peasants stripped of their land; corruption that has reached staggering proportions… Each of these issues contains enough material for multiple plays, yet you bring them all together in a single production. What gave you the impulse to approach this material now and to tell it in this particular form? Was “critical thinking,” as you state at the opening of the performance, central from the very beginning?

Ionuț Caras: After the chaos and the (now proverbial) bullet during the last presidential elections, I realized with unease that ignorance, weak education, and blind anger have pushed us to a point where extremism has more followers than I would have imagined. The percentage keeps growing. What frightened me most was how quickly young people embraced this hollow manifesto of “Food, Water, Energy” and various-isms that reduce to the toxic idea that the foreigner is always to blame, while we remain pure—heirs of the Dacian wolf and our supposedly untainted rulers.

So, that was the trigger: How can we, as artists, contribute by bringing uncomfortable—even shameful—moments of Romanian history back into discussion? We don’t claim to deliver justice or set things right. But I refuse to believe the Legionnaires were “cool” or that the communist years were “cool.” Nor should the political swamp—the theft, lying, and corruption (to which we all contribute)—leave us indifferent.

Handan: How do we all contribute to theft, lies, and corruption?

Ionut: The answer is simple: through non-involvement and lack of critical thinking. When we don’t vote, we become part of the problem. When we vote for thieves and convicted criminals, we reinforce the system. For years, some votes (especially of ordinary citizens) were bought with promises, bags of food, or cheap demagoguery. When we fail to hold politicians accountable, we participate. It is striking how similar these mechanisms are worldwide. Those of us who believe in protecting our individual freedoms have a responsibility to respond. And if we are able to respond artistically, then we should do so.

Handan: The play revisits events that are painful but also still contested—and, in some cases, denied. How do contemporary Romanian audiences receive this material? Do you encounter openness, resistance, silence, discomfort?

Ionuț: Choosing the Shames was difficult—there were too many to select from. Without pretending our choices define destiny, we mixed episodes anchored in specific historical events with broader situations unfolding over decades. I worked closely with Cosmin Stănilă and Alexandru Sașa Ceban. After many rounds of questions and revisions, we finalized eight episodes that fictionalize different historical situations. The ninth episode, by actress Diana Buluga, was her personal wish, to write about the Colectiv fire, and I agreed.

Justifying our choices was hard. People always ask: “What do you mean, ‘Shames’? Why ‘Shames’?” They fear the word. This reaction reflects the narrative I mentioned: We don’t air our dirty laundry. As a nation, we don’t acknowledge our mistakes; better to sweep everything under the rug. And that’s exactly the problem. Presidential candidates, even the ridiculous ones, still draw legitimacy from myths, like the myth of Corneliu Zelea Codreanu, as the Captain.

Audience reactions have been varied, which is healthy. People laugh, then apologize for laughing, even though the show contains humorous or tragicomic moments. Dense, living silence often follows—which I love in theatre. Some want us to highlight positives; others critique the portrayal of certain historical figures. Overall, the response is surprise, shock, and a kind of catharsis. And I believe a kind of cleansing occurs, almost healing.

Handan: The performance is structured as a sequence of tableaux, shifting between documentary material, reenactment, and stylized imagery. What led you to this fragmented form? Did you see it as a way of preventing emotional overload or confronting the audience more directly?

Ionuț: The varied writing and style of each episode shaped the tableaux. In the first episode, we begin near melodrama, then move through different zones. Some are realistic-psychological, others playful or improvisational, others militant theatre with a strong social message. Experimental language and physical theatre are included. Variety was essential to avoid repetition, prevent boredom, and communicate on multiple levels. And it made the process far more engaging for the actors and for me.

Handan: In the staging, you and your team chose a presentational, almost Brechtian approach. At times, it felt as though voices silenced by history were returning to reclaim unfinished stories—yet the work as a whole avoids melodrama, maintaining an investigative tone. When working with such painful material, what guided you more, archival research or encounters with people carrying living memories of these events?

Ionuț: What matters is that the actors don’t lie, don’t “act,” don’t pretend. To achieve that, we must be in control and relaxed—to know what we’re doing, and not forget ourselves. While working on 9 Shames, I tried to create a safe space with the actors so we could keep moving forward. The rhythm is fast, even relentless, and transitions are quick, sometimes surprising. Each actor plays up to nine different roles. It is essential to remain lucid, aware of being watched, and to tell the story. That is our purpose: to tell the story of those greater than us—regardless of which side of history they stood on. From the start, with dozens of costumes waiting, we signal we are a troupe stepping in and out of roles, doing our craft openly, guiding the audience through the puzzle. I could not have worked without the actors. They make it happen, give life, inhabit the text, fill the space. I put a lot on their shoulders; I lean on them. I need them, and I hope that when I have nothing to say, they can find their own reasons and presence. Perhaps this is also because I am an actor myself. Preparation included readings, discussions, feature and documentary films, feedback from historians, and personal research—in archives, specialized books, or our own family histories.

Handan: In many countries, including my own, staging works that address traumatic or politically sensitive historical events can be difficult, especially within state-funded institutions. The fact that this production was created and presented in a national theatre is striking. Were there institutional, political, or cultural obstacles you had to navigate? And if so, how did you and your collaborators approach them?

Ionuț: 9 Shames is an independent production by Texte bune în locuri nebune, funded through the biannual call of the National Cultural Fund Administration. Co-producers include Create.Act.Enjoy and the National Theatre of Cluj. Along the way, various partners and private supporters joined us. Many people contributed; the team behind the project is large. Mr. Mihai Măniuțiu, director of the National Theatre, included the show in the theatre’s repertoire after a preview. Naturally, we were happy. A home stage is valuable, even though we aim to tour widely.

Handan: If the institution supported the project, what made that support possible at this particular moment in Romania? For international audiences who may not be familiar with the historical references, what gaps or challenges do you anticipate? And how do you hope the work resonates beyond Romania?

Ionuț: The National Theatre helped with costumes, props, furniture, technical support, and so on. Starting in January, when we adapt the show for the main stage, this support continues. Adjusting to a hall of over nine hundred seats will be challenging, but I enjoy it. I hope the emotional core remains intact.

As for international audiences, I am eager to see the reactions. The first test was at the International Meetings in Cluj, and responses were positive, even enthusiastic. We provide historical context materials, hold post-show discussions, and ensure excellent translations. Ultimately, the show aims to educate and invite dialogue and debate. Many of the facts are unfamiliar even to Romanian audiences, especially younger viewers. These alternative history lessons share a core truth: people—with their decisions, mistakes, flaws, and virtues— remain the same everywhere. Human nature repeats the same errors. It depends on us to not forget, not remain silent, and stay aware and vigilant.