Right Luca, the greatness of simplicity!

Ndrek Luca – the greatness of simplicity – by Rikard LJARJA (2008) "Ndrek had not attended any special school for actors, but his infinite talent as an actor, which God had blessed him with abundantly, made him very quickly entrusted with roles first". On an ordinary day like any other day, he got up early, did his morning ritual, got his bicycle, a pre-World War II black women's "Bianchi" that served him almost all his life to shorten the roads and save time, put a bag under his arm and went out to do the shopping… He came back around eleven o'clock. In one hand he carried the bag with what he had bought, in the other his bicycle and climbed the stairs to the apartment. After a while he died. Simple. From a heart attack. It was January 16, 1993. In the 1950s, I was very young and had the habit of standing bewildered for hours in front of the tradesmen's shops that were prevalent at the time, such as tinsmiths, smiths, coppersmiths, farriers, smiths, master embroiderers of folk clothes who sat cross-legged squinting at the details of the filigree of costumes that were true works of art, there in their shops with stalls sitting, in front of the eyes of passers-by, buyers and wanderers like my work amazed by wonders of creation and work. In the 50's there were also large glass windows selling jewelry, jewelry, sweets… but these did not appeal to me. One day in my processions of discovery, knowledge, and pleasure, thoroughly bewildered by the sparks of red-hot iron as it was beaten in the tower by a blacksmith wearing a thick woolen coat summer and winter, I remembered that I was late and as always I would eat my nana's screams for being late. I ran home. Without waiting, I was forced to stop at a large glass window. Something unusual had forced me to stop there against my will. Someone was staring at me from beyond the glass. My habit of freaking out in front of the shops wins over the fear of nana's exclamations. It was the photographer Jakova's shop. In the window were three large framed pictures. Three portraits. The man, the one on my right hand, I remember this well, was staring at me and wanted to tell me something. After a while, I looked at the other two photographs: They were two portraits of two boys with licked hair, that shone with brilliantine and with a forced smile ala Rudolfo Valentino compressed on the skin of the face. I felt disgust. That portrait on the right was in military uniform. I will never forget that facial expression. On his lips, in his eyes, the flash of the camera, had frozen what he wanted to say to me. I spent a long time that day (it was afternoon) before that photo. Hardened. I went back a few days later, and again I was stopped for a long time. I don't know why! I don't know why it stuck in my mind, to this day, I don't forget that man who looked at me from that picture, I don't forget that look: Strong eyes that pierced you, smiling eyes that saw far away, eyes well, determined eyes… In that portrait the officer had everything: kindness, big heart, intelligence, determination, indomitable will… I went several times in front of that window and stared in front of that photo with that physiognomy that gripped you, that made you stare, which made a remarkable contrast to the other two pictures of those boys with hair who had just licked their cows… It seemed to me that he was looking at me through the glass of the shop window and that he wanted to tell me… I don't know, I couldn't understand what What did he want to tell me.. something… something like a promise… That's why I was attracted to that portrait in that photograph. Every time I stopped in front of that storefront, because I started going more often, I started to get the impression that by now that man in the picture (actually he was not a man, but a young boy) and I had become good friends. I was full of energy and ran like crazy towards the house. That portrait had the ability to stir my inner energy. For a long time I thought that this was the only thing that happened to me with that officer's portrait in the gallery of the photographer Jakova. Today, I am convinced that that portrait with an officer's cap in the showroom of the photographer Jakova had an extraordinary power of expression, I am convinced that to others, like me, who sat like a shell in front of him, it must have seemed that something wanted to it said… … And indeed, years later, that portrait told everyone everything with an incredible force. All from his strong, unbending spirit, from his good spirit, from his polemical spirit, from his spirit protected by the legends of the mountain tribe that gave birth to him, from his chaste and infinitely free spirit . God had abundantly blessed this man with the gift that many people dream of having. One of the days, when I was a child looking at that portrait of Jakov through the glass of the photo window, with whom I had already created a secret intimacy, I took courage and asked someone. – Who is this officer? They told me a name: NDREK LUCA. After I found out the name, I soon learned that he was originally from Dukagjini, that he grew up in Shkoder in the house of Gjonaj (as a tenant) belonging to the Great Church, that it was his mother who insisted on finding a house belonging to the Great Church , when they had come down from Dukagjin from the famine that had plagued that barren, wild and proud province, that his mother and father were the ones to raise him, to educate him, that the owners of the house near the Great Church were very good people, and that one of them with the last name Gjonaj was an actor in the theater of Shkodra… I was told that Ndreka was well known in the circles of young boys of that time who were engaged in reading and knowledge, that he had been in Belgrade at the Aviation Academy, that since we had broken up with Yugoslavs, he had returned to Albania like all the other students, that he was now in Tirana and that he no longer wanted to be an officer, but wanted to become an actor of the People's Theater. In Shkoder, when a person caught the eye for good, everything was heard at once. No one told me about the vicissitudes he faced to leave the army and become a member of the People's Theatre. They were certainly not small. * * * Ndreka had not attended any special acting school, but his infinite acting talent, which God had blessed him with abundantly, length, intuition, fantasy, general culture and indomitable will, made him very quickly entrusted with roles first-hand and his name was listed among the great names of the People's Theatre. These happened early. When in 1965 I met him for the first time as a partner, I was surprised by another wonderful characteristic of his. I had just come out of the "egg", and he was a fully established actor who had played many, many roles in the theater and in a film the role of a hero with extraordinary success. Pritsha – that's what I thought – the cold man who knows well that he is a personality (actually he was), the man who keeps his distance, who looks you down, the haughty artist, etc. etc. On the contrary, I saw that the man from the photo window had promised me something to Jacob, and that he and I were old and good friends. Ndrek Luca did not suffer from the "applause complex" and this showed that he was a man with more than clear sense in his relationship with work and role, with his partner, with the director, with the spectator, with the well-wishers he had with majority in all of Albania, everywhere, on the street, in the shop, in the village, in the cafe… After all, Luca knew how to laugh beautifully. By the way, Luca also knew how to argue well. With his extraordinary temperament, and with his crystal honesty that stemmed from the upbringing and culture of his family and the land that gave birth to him, he did not accept any kind of hypocrisy, demagoguery or compromise. Someone, or some, might not like what Ndreka said straight, without tricks, without misunderstandings and innuendos. But often they became too much. And when they became too much, Ndrek Luca turned his head and left them, ignored them, tried to forget. He had a lot of work, he didn't have time to deal with words and speeches. After all, Luca knew how to listen and obey. It was an honor for the most correct actors. Luca, however, knew how to transform neatly and exceptionally from role to role. However, Luca did not forget even the most seemingly insignificant details, down to a small but typical personal prop. Ndrek Luca was real and believable in what he did in front of the audience in the theater hall and in front of the camera on the set. He knew how to separate theater performance from cinema performance. After all, Luca had a voice that he used in the function of whatever figure he embodied and breathed. After all, Luca sacrificed his health several times at work. Luca, however, had an inexhaustible physical energy of unknown origin, even though he ate very little. Luca the man-artist was the greatness of simplicity. In all that I said, I did not exaggerate anything from the figure of the man-master. I may have left without saying much. I speak, not as his student, not as his partner, not as his director, not as his friend. I try to speak as a professional, as a professional I mean. Unfortunately, in recent times, words have been misused a lot, they have lost their meaning by writing in vain, for useless people who have not done anything professional in life to serve everyone. That's why it's hard for me to see the quality that Ndrek Luca really deserves. All the quality adjectives, epithets that can be given to a complete artist, he has given himself with his extraordinary will, with his innate gifts, with his talent and grace. He was at the pinnacle of artistic glory and (I am not at all surprised) was the simplest at work, in everyday life. Ndrek Luca was a true Albanian in all senses. Rozafa and Gjergj, the two intentional names of his children are meaningful. I'm not going any deeper. * * * The cases with me have been surprising. I want to testify that Ndrek Luca, the actor eager for work, the actor who could not get enough of roles, strangely the role he plays in the film where for the first time I am a partner with him, I refuse. I don't know the reasons. I never had the courage to ask him about this rejection. It was this rejection, the coincidence that I entered cinematography. In the studio, everything was ready for a candidate, who was the main candidate until that moment, to win the role of the hero. He was dressed, made up, the lights were on, etc., etc. The screening was not starting. People started to get bored after a few hours of waiting. There came a moment when, seeing the nervousness that had been created by the long wait, I took courage and asked: – Why don't they start? – Ndrek Luca is not coming. He doesn't want the role – they told me. – What about this film test, – I asked – is it for Ndreka or… – No, Ndreka has the role without a film test, but someone has to help with the text, and Ndreka would be good because it is his role. – If you want, I will help you by text to finish work for today… They agreed immediately. I put on the priest's veladon, took the glasses from the make-up artist Lazar Kënuti, found a prayer book around in the props, and with two or three tries the jihshka was ready. The test was shot. If Ndreka had come, I would not have helped my colleague, because it would have been Ndreka who would have done his job. So Ndreka did not want that role. When the film tests were seen, the role was entrusted to me, because I had done a test for the role of the hero, and when I replaced Ndreka to help my colleague, I had also done a "film test" for the antagonist. Apparently they liked me as an actor with all my flaws, like a slightly bent back, a slightly crooked jaw… Ndreka was forced to come and play the role he didn't want, with a letter from the Ministry of that time, which he more or less had as content: Not to be paid his salary in the theater if he does not go to the cinema studio to act… etc. etc. How? Salary!? Huh! So Ndreka, the promise he wanted to make to me from the photo window to Jakov when I was still a child, finally comes true… Thus begins our life of hotels, mountains and fields, in the sun and in the rain, in the frost and in the heat for many years. If I had the gift of a sculptor with all my soul, I would make you a monument, lunch. Not that I worked with you for a long time, not that I was your colleague, not that we sometimes fought, not that I was your friend. But because you gave so much to the scenic and cinematographic art, you and the viewers kept Albania so many true and genuine professional values from your strong, free and pure spirit, and you got very little. You were truly majestic in your simplicity. At least a plaque where it is written: This is where NDREK LUCA was born should be placed. That does you no credit. This brings honor to all of us and to the city that gave birth to you… … and in one hand the trunk with the things you had bought and in the other the black pre-war "Bianchi" bicycle, you climbed the stairs of the building where you lived around 11 o'clock, and simply died from a blow to the heart. Die indeed as we shall all die. This was simply your death. I guess Ndrek Luca's death was not like that of all normal mortals. It was a burst, an explosion. An explosion of the collision of his pure, guileless soul, of the mountain spiritual culture cultivated in the best values of positive morality and the harshness, filth, poverty of poverty that had been cultivated in secret for decades and burst forth with all its insolent Byzantine values, unscrupulous, without homeland and religion. Canons and moral values were overturned. Lives were taken, wealth of all kinds fell into the hands of unscrupulous gluttons. This all happened very quickly. And apparently Ndreka did not cope. His soul broke. His death was a protest (I keep guessing) against all the poison of the handrak that gushed and flowed everywhere, gluttony, pseudo-culture, pseudo-democracy, pseudo-patriotism and pseudo-religion. This time too, he did not have time, he did not have the time and opportunity to take a single stand against all that hypocrisy and hypocrisy that surrounded him, and he ran away. He left them all. I despised them. He couldn't stand them, and he couldn't handle it alone. But Ndreka is alive, he is alive in all his acting work, even in his written work, he is alive in all the countless deaths he has performed. The NDREK LUCA phenomenon was the majesty of simplicity. It should be studied and an example should be taken. Rikard Ljarja – 2008 ___________________ Albanian cinematography since 2013