Julio Chávez and Ricky Pashkus: The Weight of a Friendship

Julio Chávez and Ricky Pashkus wait their turn for the casting call for Juan José Jusid's film, "Don't Touch the Girl ." They don't know each other, they barely speak, but they know what's at stake is the lead role in the latest film by one of today's most well-known directors. They are 17 years old. They call Julio first and close the door. Ricky listens silently.

"I don't know what Julio did at the casting; I just heard people laughing their heads off and applauding. I was absolutely terrified," says Ricky.

Julio finishes his test and before his competitor passes, he asks him:

–You didn't bring anything? Anything?

Julio immediately lends her his glasses and tells her, "I used them at the casting, and I think they helped." At that moment, a distinction begins that will mark them for the rest of their lives: one prepares, and the other improvises.

When it's Ricky's turn, there's total silence. There's no laughter, not even a grimace. He already imagines his fate, and he was right: Julio Chávez was chosen to be the lead in the film, and Ricky was given an extra role. But their encounter didn't end there. After the casting, they went for a walk together.

"We went for a walk around La Rural. We were with Cecilia Roth. Do you remember?" Ricky says.

–Not at all, Julio answers.

"I don't know what we did. We looked at cows. But then I asked you if you wanted to come over to my house for a cup of coffee, and you came."

Act Two: Ricky's Salvation

From that first coffee, what followed next, in Julio Chávez 's words, was a rescue. It was the 1970s and 1980s, and Ricky Pashkus 's family, in a way, adopted this lonely, lost boy, who was already in his second year at the Dramatic Arts Conservatory.

“The story is like that of The Prince and the Pauper. Ricky comes from a silver spoon in his mouth. Ricky had a very supportive family, a Ukrainian and Polish mother, and he himself is a Polish prince, blond, light-eyed, and from an aristocracy. He went to very important private schools. Meanwhile, I was a kitten that he brought into the house. I think I had two shirts, Ricky had an entire wardrobe, and he lent me bamboo shirts. I didn't even know what bamboo was. Ricky gave me food, let me sleep in his house, lent me his perfumes, gave me many things that were impossible for me to access. He was the first person who helped me get a credit card. He enabled me to consider a life I couldn't even imagine. I was alone, and his parents, his brother, and he gave me a home,” says Julio Chávez , one of the country's most symbolic and prestigious actors. He tells the story from his studio, where he paints, makes sculptures, and studies philosophy, among other things. fields of thought and art to which he devotes much of his time. A chasm between this present and the adolescent acting student with no place to live.

He lived with his parents, but, he thinks, it was no longer a place to live. He left right around the time he met Ricky, between the ages of 17 and 18, and the whole family dispersed. “The place was blown up,” he says, trailing off. Ricky was his key to a better life: they rented an apartment together and lived there for 17 years. “Always as friends, as great companions,” he clarifies. Julio was tidy, knew how to cook, and left Ricky's clothes laid out so he'd know what to wear the next day. Ricky was always there for anything he needed. “He also had to put up with me because I wasn't a docile little dog. I had pretensions. A person who anyone would say, 'He's hopeless, but how pretentious he is.' Ricky had a legitimate aristocratic pretension, and I had aristocratic pretensions. My feeling was, I want to belong to that club, but I'm not going to bend to being a deer for it,” says the actor of some of the most important miniseries in the country, such as Tratame bien , E l Puntero , and Farsantes.

Act Three: Julio's Salvation

Ricky Pashkus watches as his friend's acting career grows and expands after his first leading role in a film. Something similar will happen to him, but not as an actor, but as a choreographer and director. If Julio Chávez is synonymous with acting, the name Ricky Pashkus is directly associated with Argentine musical comedy. He directed iconic titles such as Aquí no podemos hacer (Here We Can't Do It) , Vivitos y coleando (Alive and Kicking) , La calle 42 ( Forty-Second Street), Pinti canta las 40 (Pinty Sings the 40 ), Los producen (The Producers), Hairspray (Hairspray ), La cage aux folles (La cage aux folles) , Kinky Boots (Kinky Boots) , and the list goes on. But success doesn't always imply stability: Ricky defines himself as a big spender, unrestricted, compulsive, who went bankrupt on several occasions, and Julio was always there to rescue him. He thinks he inherited some of that preoccupation with money from his mother.

“I want to share something very personal,” he warns, and begins: “When my father died, my mother began to have a great deal of concern about money. We had a lovely house, my father had left us some money, I was working very well, my brother too. There was no reason to think we were going to run out of money, but my mother was very worried. She wanted to make money, her concern grew, and she began to despair. She always mentioned every single thing that happened to Julio. One day my mother called me happily and said: 'You don't know what happened, Julio called me and told me that Augusto Fernandes needed some German books on acting translated and that he had recommended me for the job. I have 30 books to translate and they're going to pay me per book.' I spoke with Julio and told him thank you for the recommendation, but my mother wasn't a professional translator. But then he tells me it was all his idea: he sent for some acting books that interested him, bought an Olivetti typewriter for my mother, and It started giving me work. I set deadlines and made calls to check on the progress. My mother was consumed by the activity; she told me her fingers hurt from typing so much. She spent all day and all night there, and she was delighted. She no longer suffered. She had a job and a job. It saved her life, not so much for the money, but above all because it restored a vital and emotional value to her.

Act Four: 50 Years of Friendship

They've been friends for 50 years. Listening to them speak reflects the best version of friendship: they question each other, joke around, and talk three or four times a day, though in most cases it's just to check on each other. They consider each other unconditional and, what's more, they're outrageously sincere. "Most people make an effort to connect with each other, but Ricky doesn't. We often get together for lunch, for example, and the truth is, he's not very pleasant to be with. He doesn't talk; he suddenly becomes very serious. He doesn't make any effort to be with others, but when he does interact, he's absolutely genuine. We have very different lifestyles and very different tastes. We put up with very different things. He puts up with things I would never put up with, and I put up with things that would be absolutely impossible for him to put up with. But we don't criticize those aspects at all," Julio concludes. Ricky listens to him and says that this dynamic is repeated in rehearsals: “I'm the director, but during rehearsals I often stay silent, listening to him. I have a connection with his mastery that amazes me. He has a universal vision, which I respect and need. He's the person I admire most, the one who studies the most, the one who prepares the most, the one who delves into the depths of things. I improvise, and we meet halfway.”

The fifth act of this friendship finds them rehearsing every day, more than five hours a day, in full preparation for their next theatrical premiere: the play The Whale , a story whose film version was very popular (you can watch it on Netflix) and led actor Brendan Fraser to win an Oscar for his performance . The fact that is impossible to ignore: the protagonist weighs more than 250 kilos, as a result of a deep depression, which led him to eat uncontrollably. He can barely leave his sofa, needs a walker or wheelchair to get around, and his life is in serious danger.

"I want to clarify that I haven't seen the film, nor will I see it," says Julio Chávez , and it's clear he doesn't need to. The original script is a play written by Samuel Hunter, and for the actor, transcending the idea of ​​the body and morbid obesity is essential, although the costume design includes the creation of a suit, complete with prosthetics.

“The conflict should transcend that body. There's always something prior that generates the state the character finds themselves in. Human beings are very complex creatures to understand. What's happening to the other person? Why are they like this? What happened to them? Everyone wants to rule over human truth with their own tools, but no tool is skilled enough to answer the question of what we humans are like,” he thinks.

Ricky listens, and some of Julio's observations, he says, will be used that same day in the rehearsal. "Art isn't about the 'whys'; we're going to present a phenomenon about the human condition, and at its best, it has to be kept alive and open, so that each viewer can find their own answers," Julio adds.

The premiere will take place in May at Paseo La Plaza, and the cast includes Laura Oliva, Carolina Kopelioff, Máximo Meyer, and Emilia Mazer. And they, the friends, like that inaugural casting, that mysterious chance that brought them together in their teens, choose each other again and, like the play, enjoy the phenomenon of friendship, without asking so many questions.

* The Whale will be on display at Paseo La Plaza, Corrientes 1660, starting May 1st: Thursdays and Fridays at 8 p.m.; Saturdays at 7:30 p.m.; and Sundays at 7 p.m.