Interview taken from LiterNet.ro

„"Things I Know to be True" by Andrew Bovell, directed by Vlad Bălan, opened the 2025-2026 season of the "Regina Maria" Oradea Theater and is also one of those few shows that takes the risk of touching on areas that theater usually avoids.

At first glance, it's about the Price family - a family "like any other", in which love and the need for control mix, and the desire for security often hides the fear of change. From within it rises the voice of Mark, a type of character rarely found on the Romanian stage. Caught between identities, between what he was told he should be and who he knows deep down that he is, he doesn't overturn the story, but he profoundly alters its affective dynamics.

About the courage to touch sensitive areas without artifice, about the fragile balance between rigor and vulnerability, and about how theater can speak honestly about the truths that make us uncomfortable, we spoke with actor Cosmin Petruț, the interpreter of Mark Price – a character who comes from a world that is not only ignored, but often stigmatized.

Larisa Neguriță: The show Things I Know to be True investigates in depth the fragility of a family and how the tension between drama and moments of subtle humor builds a unique emotional rhythm. How does one experience, from the inside, such a carefully calibrated construction?

Cosmin Petrut: It is experienced with immense intensity. Things I Know to be True is not just a show, but an experience that consumes you and nourishes you at the same time. From the inside, you feel how each scene demands an almost painful emotional precision. It is a difficult, complex show, from a dramaturgical, directing and acting point of view. It challenges you to expose yourself, to give up comfort, to remain completely honest. For me, it has a special and personal meaning: it is my first consistent role on the stage of the theater in Oradea. Therefore, the experience is double: it is the joy of discovery and, at the same time, the responsibility of being present every second.

LN: Andrew Bovell's text has an almost musical construction, with returns and counterpoints that make for a difficult acting score. How did you, as an actor, manage to enter this rhythm of the writing and transform it into a living stage flow?

CP: It was a difficult process. Mark is very different from me and that was the challenge. Getting to him meant a long road, full of questions and discoveries. With Vlad [na Bălan, the director] I worked intensely: he knew exactly what he wanted and always had the patience to lead me to areas that I would not have explored on my own. I admit: I had an extraordinary team, who created a safe space, where I could search without fear. For me, working with Mark was almost an archaeological process. I wrote all of his text in a notebook, line by line, and for each one I noted the hidden thoughts, everything that exists behind the words. That's how I began to understand his inner rhythm, the way he acts, reacts, how he thinks, how he is silent. And at a certain point, it was no longer about the text, but about presence. About understanding Mark, the real man, not the stage text.

LN: Mark brings to the stage the fragility of identity and the courage to speak your truth, in a family context full of pressures. How did you work to outline this axis and what kind of vulnerabilities did you have to assume as an actor, on stage and in yourself?

CP: Beyond the vulnerabilities, I felt real pressure. Mark doesn't fit into the usual patterns of so-called normality, and that made me be very careful about how I built him. I was afraid of falling into a stereotype, of not straying from the truth. He's a character who, by his nature, can be perceived as taboo, and that's why he requires total commitment. For me, Mark was a lesson in courage, about what it means to take your life into your own hands and speak your truth, no matter how much it hurts. In the process, I understood how dangerous not taking responsibility can be, how a lie, no matter how small, can turn into a chasm between people. It was a role that made me reflect a lot and that, in a way, taught me to be more honest with myself.

LN: Vlad Bălan's direction required a lot of rigor, but also a rare finesse in working with details. How did you experience this creative dialogue and where do you feel it challenged you the most?

CP: Meeting Vlad Bălan was a school in the truest sense of the word. I'm just starting out, fresh out of college, and my stage experience is now taking shape, being built. Even more so, meeting him was essential. I discovered a director who builds not only with rigor, but also with a rare delicacy in his relationship with the actor. He has an extraordinary way of listening and giving you space to discover yourself. His direction does not seek to impose himself, but to put you, as an actor, in the spotlight. Things I Know to be True is not a directing show, it's an acting show, and that says a lot about his generosity. He trusted me, constantly supported me, and had enormous patience. The fact that he chose to change the ages of the characters so that I could play the role of Mark says everything about how much openness and courage he has as an artist. He's a director I would like anyone to work with, regardless of experience, because he has a rare quality: he gives you the confidence that you can do more than you thought. And I hope we can work together again.

LN: In Things I Know to be True, the set design, music, and projections are conceived as active parts of the dramaturgy, not as simple visual or sound accompaniments. How did they influence your inner rhythm of the role and the way you constructed Mark's journey?

CP: We had an extraordinary team. The set design, music and projections not only completed the story, but became part of its breath. The work of Gabi Albu, Cristina Juncu and the team at Impress Media created a living universe that does not leave you indifferent. The set design surprised me with the naturalness with which it speaks about family and fragility. It is not a setting in the classical sense, but a space that lives with us. The same goes for the musical part: Cristina Juncu's compositions manage to support the emotion without pushing it towards pathos. It is sincere music, which comes to complement a truth and not as an embellishment. The projections were a special experience: we filmed Japanese shadows, which become the echo of the characters' childhood in the show. It was a very beautiful moment of work, because in those images we find our innocence, memory and fragility. And even the choice of my costume in the last scene speaks of the same finesse of detail. Everything is thought out with a rare rigor and sensitivity, which helped me calibrate my inner rhythm and anchor myself more deeply in Mark's truth.

LN: The reviews call you "a big surprise" of the show and emphasize that Mark gave you "a huge opportunity for expressiveness," a role that combines strength and delicacy. How do you take these critical remarks?

CP: I try not to turn the appreciations into pressure. I see them as beautiful encouragements, which motivate me to move forward. Beyond the real chance of expressiveness, Mark is for me a lesson about responsibility. At the same time, I really believe that theater is a form of generosity, a team sport in which we all have the same common goal: the show. I can only say that I am grateful for everything I received from this process and, especially, for the trust that made me grow.

LN: The show provokes intense reactions in the audience. How do you feel this vibration from the audience and how does it intersect with your performance on stage?

CP: The energy that comes from the audience is hard to put into words. It charges you. At each performance, I felt how the hall breathes with us, how people sincerely connect to the story. I think this is, in fact, the winning bet of the show: the fact that the audience is there, with us, as an emotional witness. After the performances, I received many messages that said the same thing: "I didn't feel like I was at the theater, I felt like I was in the Price family's yard." I think it's the most beautiful reaction possible, because it means that we managed to build an authentic universe, in which people are no longer watching a fiction, but a form of life.

LN: There are scenes that require a kind of radical, almost uncomfortable exposure in front of the audience. What was the most difficult moment to go through and how did you manage to integrate it organically into the construction of Mark?

CP: The hardest moment is Mark's confrontation with his parents, the scene in which he assumes his identity and speaks the truth. It is a moment of immense fragility, because beyond courage, fear, pain and love are felt. Although Mark and I are very different, I couldn't help but feel his vulnerability. In a way, that scene became a kind of confession for me, a silent release for things, not that I know to be true, but things that, perhaps, I never had the courage to say. A necessary substitution. It was very difficult to find the balance between emotion and lucidity and not fall into drama. I documented a lot, I watched interviews, I tried to understand beyond words, but in the end everything came down to a single gesture: sincerity. That scene is painful, but also deeply liberating.

LN: The theme of gender identity is rarely taken on so head-on on the Romanian stage. How did you experience the responsibility of bringing it to the public through Mark, and what inner resources did this exposure require of you?

CP: I felt a huge responsibility. I knew I had to treat everything with sincerity, without any artifice. I worked carefully, delicately, trying not to represent a label, but a person. I researched, listened, read, but above all I learned to listen to the emotion behind the theme. I deeply believe in equality and in the freedom of every person to be themselves. I take this theme seriously because I know that theater has the power to change perceptions and preconceptions. If, even for a moment, someone in the audience felt seen or understood through Mark, it was worth all the effort.

LN: The show is conceived as an ensemble score, where each voice has its own weight. How did you experience the band dynamics and what did you discover about the way the relationships between the characters give strength and coherence to the story?

CP: I said earlier that, for me, theater is a team sport and I believe in it with all my heart. I am honored to be part of both the "Regina Maria" Theater team and the show Things I Know to be True. The energy between us is real: it lifts you up, keeps you present, even when you are not in the foreground. Each of us matters, and the show lives through this shared vibration. My strongest interactions are with my parents, played by Corina Cernea and Richard Balint, and with my little sister, Rosie, played by Giorgiana Coman. With Pip (Denisa Irina Vlad) and Ben (Eugen Neag) I have fewer direct moments, but the connection remains and is felt in the looks, in the breathing, in the mutual attention. I think that is why the show works: because each actor works in the service of the whole, not for himself.

LN: What does it mean for you, as an actor from the new generation, to be part of Things I Know to be True? And how do you feel this experience speaks to you about the place that theater can have in Romanian society today?

CP: The characters in the show are so inviting that it doesn't even matter what generation you belong to. What matters, and what remains, is the encounter with depth, a depth that is not about age, but about the person. Things I Know to be True confirmed to me that theater can hold up a mirror to you, regardless of whether you're on stage or in the audience. And sometimes, what you see there is not comfortable. It may even be painful, but I think that's exactly what it's meant to be: to confront you, to expose you, to make you see yourself differently. We need more shows like this in the repertoires of theaters in Romania: shows that don't give verdicts, but ask questions that offer space for reflection, not answers. Because, in the end, no one imposes conclusions on you. You draw them yourself, in your silence.

LN: In the play, Pip's letter to her mother is a confession in which she reveals her own view of her mother. If you, as an actor, were to write a letter to Mark, what would you say to him?

CP: Dear Mark,

Thank you for everything you've taught me about courage, about honesty, and about how important it is to be yourself, no matter what. I promise to do everything in my power to make sure people see you exactly as you truly are: strong, vulnerable, sensitive, and deeply human. Your story will be known, and your voice will be heard.

Cosmin