The years that have not been lost, the pauses that have endured searing experience, and even the silence — it, too, speaks in him and for him eloquently. Ukrainian actor and People’s Artist of Ukraine Ivan Bernatsky celebrates his 80th birthday on July 1. Our conversation may already have faded from his memory among dozens of performances, roads, audiences, and other people’s questions. But before the anniversary, it suddenly came back to life — from fragments on a voice recorder, from memories, from bare feet on stage, from the depths of the heart, because people like this do not simply pass by; they are engraved deep in the heart — with respect, honor, and wild admiration.
Almost his entire life has been the stage, the light, the audience, and that invisible aim in which an actor has no right to miss. Because when you come out before people, a mistake is not just a forgotten word; it is as if someone suddenly turned off the light in the middle of a performance. Here, you cannot re-record a take, you cannot hide behind editing, you cannot ask: “Let’s do it again.” And even crying must be done in such a way that no one sees it — except perhaps under the rain, when the sky does it for you. Frankly — about what matters most, from the maestro himself…
— Mr. Ivan, if you had to be described in only three words, what would they be?
— Wise, a little cunning, and absolutely talented. Wise — because I have already seen and lived through something. Cunning — because an actor cannot survive without cunning. But it is not the kind of cunning that deceives; it is the kind that helps you feel the moment, the audience, the pause. And talented… Well, let people say why.
— Your latest performance is called “Confession.” Why a confession? Because there is no sin — or because there are far too many?
— There are many. Everyone has them. It is just that confession in church is not always completely sincere. May the fathers forgive me for my frankness. Because it is human nature to hide something — from a priest, from unnecessary eyes, from oneself. But on stage, that is impossible, because it is as if you are giving yourself up for judgment. In different genres, in different states, through different texts.
— Hours on stage, sometimes without water and in a single breath. Is that experience, or something more?
— More. Experience helps, but experience alone will not carry you through, because there is something deeper: you must be charged. There is a kind of flight. You go on — and you no longer hear time. And you do not need it. Because if you start counting the minutes, then it is just work, and theatre does not tolerate that.
— You were barefoot on stage. Was that accidental, or part of a philosophy?
— I was born barefoot. I walked barefoot on the earth because I was born in a village. And perhaps it stayed somewhere inside me. Shoes prevent me from doing artistic things. It sounds funny, but they get in the way of thinking sincerely and beautifully. And barefoot — you are somehow closer to the earth, to yourself, to the truth.
— And what do theatrical calluses look like?
— It is when your head hurts, your heart hurts, your body is already asking you to stop, but you are still charged and standing on stage. You are still in pain, but you must keep contact. It is difficult. But there is no other way. And only later, backstage, you can fall silent. You can collapse. But no one knows that, and most importantly, no one sees it.
— Is there fear before going on stage? Because everyone must have it, probably.
— It is not fear. It is more like an inner trembling. How will it be? What kind of audience is there today? Will there be contact? Because every stage is different. Every hall is different. And you never know in advance what will happen between you and the people. But you go out anyway. Because this is a love that cannot be betrayed.
— Since this is a confession, do you have any silly habits?
— Oh, I do. But they do not stay with me for long. Especially if they are thoughts. A thought comes — I look at it, turn it around, and let it go. Not everything needs to be given a permanent place in the head.
— And does life exist for Bernatsky without theatre?
— Yes. But art still does not leave. My daughter is connected with music, my wife is a theorist. It is all nearby. I do not make them adjust to me. On the contrary — I learn to be beside them. Because art is not only the stage. It is a way of seeing the world and living every day.
— So “Confession” does not end when the lights go out?
— No. A true confession, perhaps, never ends. Sometimes it simply has a stage, light, and an audience. And sometimes — silence backstage.
So on the day of his 80th birthday, one simply wants to bow deeply and say a sincere thank you. For the talent. For honesty on stage. For every role that made us laugh, think, and empathize. For decades of service to Ukrainian theatre and the Ukrainian audience.
Because life truly has meaning when what remains after you is not only posters and photographs, but human gratitude, warmth, and the memory of the heart.
Happy anniversary, Mr. Ivan. And thank you for everything!
Photo: Tamara Zayats, Volodymyr Ilchenko
Author: Tamara Zayats
