La Casa de Papel was from the beginning such an exportable product — the Dalí masks worn by robbers, their aliases from international cities, the Hollywood rhythm of the storytelling — that it almost seems they had it all figured out. Except that if they had planned it it would not have turned out so well: there are shots that have to be improvised on the fly. The righteous aspect of the argument, a la Robin Hood, Ocean’s Eleven or Snatch, pigs and diamonds, caused the first readings of the phenomenon to be political. “The series makes a nod to the historical moment in which we are living, in which we all feel victims of a system that would only want our poverty”, Il Corriere della Sera analyzed. “An incitement to rebellion?” Asked Le Monde. The former mayor of Ankara asked the secret services to intervene in this “very dangerous symbol of rebellion”. Dalí masks proliferated on protesters against the Macri government in Argentina, on banknotes launched by Uruguayan anti-establishment artists, and at the Rio de Janeiro carnival. “The original name was going to be “Los Deshuciados”, because it spoke of people who were evicted and through [this robbery] they were looking for a new life”, says Lorente.

But the dimension of the phenomenon ended up dissipating any sociopolitical reading. That resounding debut thanks to Madrid-Atleti de la Champions was no accident: the potential audience for this series is the same as football, that is, practically anyone. His fans include Neymar, Romeo Santos, Chiara Ferragni, most likely ourselves and a good part of the members of our families. The popularity of La Casa de Papel has benefited from its blunt simplicity: La casa de papel is exactly the series it sounds like, one in which the leader of the band uses expressions such as “let’s mess it up” and in which the coffin from Nairobi (Alba Flores), murdered last season, had written “the whore loves”. A series that has inspired the largest escape room in Europe.

His feat has been treated in the same terms as that of a humble football team that nobody sees coming (the Dépor of the centennial, Ranieri’s Leicester in 2016), whose fans also support through badges, songs, tattoos and even a certain connection identity. There is a national pride towards the triumph of La Casa de Papel only comparable to that awakened by Nadal, Gasol or Belmonte. “It has the same elements as a football club”, says Jaime Lorente. “There is a coach, some players, a kit, an anthem, a color and some tactics”.

When the third season of La Casa de Papel aired, the first on Netflix, there was more talk about its international repercussion than about the characters. Nobody cared what La Casa de Papel meant. The colors are above their players: the star of LLa Casa de Papel is La Casa de Papel. “You are a kind of souvenir. And very cheap”, indicates Lorente regarding his role as part of the enormous gear. “You buy something at the supermarket and you want what’s inside the box. Success is more difficult to manage than failure, because failure is forgotten but success cannot be taken away even with turpentine”.

[…]

“It’s that the premise of La Casa de Papel was already very extreme, if you accept that, anything will fit in with you”, Lorente explains. “The intention was always to make great entertainment to watch with popcorn and coke, not to wake up a revolution in Brazil”. Herrán believes that, as the screens have become small, it is the industry that has become too big: “It is consumed too much, there is too much supply and you have to distinguish yourself in something. And what are you doing? Take it all to the extreme. The perfect example is Elite, I have not seen it but everyone is telling me that this season is outrageous, that they have passed… But of course, if not, you have 10,000 identical products”.

Miguel Herran: I have spent three weeks throwing a grenade. It’s exhausting because I like to perform.
Jaime Lorente: That’s it. And there are days when you don’t feel like an actor.
M. H. Sure, you think, damn it, I’m a well-paid helper. I’m here without saying anything, doing nothing, feeling nothing, with the camera so screwed up that I don’t know if you’re really looking at me. Spending all my fucking energy to do the best I can. And there comes a moment of despair in the second week when you say, “Look man, I can’t take it anymore”. And then they tell you to hang on a bit, then your short [shot] comes. And you answer: “Sure, but why didn’t you do it a week ago!”
J. L. You are now empty.
M. H. You are completely empty.

And doesn’t one feel like a child playing hitting shots?
In fact, it is not enjoyed. Think of it as a weapon that weighs three and a half kilos, that you are pretending all the time because it doesn’t really shoot. And you don’t see anything.
J. L. Dust gets into your eyes, you cough, the effects clamp goes off and something explodes in your face.
M. H. You have a firecracker here, a splinter comes out …
J. L. It is that you go with fear sometimes. Do you remember that bottle that was behind you? It’s dangerous man, it’s dangerous.
M. H. And that firecracker they put you around here? [points to arm]
J. L. Yes, yes, it blew me up in a shot.

Could it be said then that they wanted to finish?
J. L. Yes, because the intensity that one lives in the filming of La casa de papel is very strong. It’s a 10 hour climax.
M. H. Of course, all the conflicts are so big, so fat, so intense, that one ends up in despair. Emotionally exhausted.

And how can something that has ended up being so great be closed in conditions?
J. L. Going back to the essence of the characters, which was what people fell in love with in the beginning, the characters. The war has come later.

Source : elpais.com

Pedro Alonso, Jaime Lorente, Alvaro Morte and Alex Pina on saying goodbye to the beloved Netflix series.

No matter how near the end sits in view, it can still be hard to see it. For Jaime Lorente, he finally caught a glimpse of it on the last day of filming the final part of La Casa de Papel. He was on set in the Bank of Spain, and he and the other members of La Banda were playing out the final sequences of a heist that started as a robbery and descended into an all-out war. They were exhausted, wrapping at around 4 am, which was normal for the show’s months-long production. There was blood on their jumpsuits, but you’d never know it. In between takes, Lorente looked down at that now-iconic red jumpsuit, and then looked around at the other actors that he’d become so close to over the last five years. He pulled at the crimson cloth that covered him, and, one by one, they all did the same. ‘We had been wearing these red jumpsuits for so long, and then in that moment we realized that it was the last time we would wear them”, Lorente tells Esquire Middle East.

Lorente never knew that a simple jumpsuit and a Salvador Dalí mask would end up meaning so much to him, nor did the rest of them. Five years earlier, it was simply the costume chosen for a new heist show that would premiere on Spain’s second-most popular TV station. It aired in 15 episodes from May to November of 2017, and it made some rumblings in Spain, but its resonance was supposed to stop there. “There was a feeling of emptiness when we concluded. We had come to tell the story of robbery and we did it. It was hugely stressful to write those 15 episodes, 70 minutes long each, and shoot them in 5-6 months. In the end, I had a certain feeling of relief because I had never written or shot so fast”, says the show’s creator Alex Pina. “We were very young, we had no money, and we had to shoot twice as many constant days, so while it was a relief to finish it, we felt that we had done something good. We felt it had contributed to the genre, blending the North American branch of the genre and the Anglo-Saxon literature of the perfect robbery, creating a hybrid with black comedy with romanticism, and then suddenly it was over”.

[…]

It is often hard to say goodbye. For Lorente, he couldn’t bring himself to say it at all. “It’s something you just can’t do, right? It’s hard to even fathom of the implications of saying goodbye to something that is so big. Until you say goodbye, you don’t realize that there are some of your co-actors that you will never talk to again or maybe never see again. So, for me, it’s not really over until you say goodbye. That’s why I don’t plan to say it”, says Lorente. Whether or not he’s ready to let go, Lorente is ready to admit one thing—this show changed his life, as surely it changed many others. “On a personal level, on a professional level, my life is completely different now. And it’s all because of this show. I think that many of the things I do have been made possible by this show. I would have possibly had a much more normal life if it wasn’t for this. If you spend one day with me, you will realize how much this show has changed the person I am, for the better. I’m so grateful for what it has given me, and given all of us”.

Lorente is not ready to say goodbye. But perhaps, in its stead, he can muster one final refrain:

Bella, ciao.

Source : esquireme.com