‘I keep starting all over again’

Elsa Langnäse (27) is a German-Swiss actress, known for her roles in *Youth Topia*, *Tatort* and *Those Who Follow*. She has been in front of the camera since childhood and now works between Zurich, Berlin and London, where she is studying at the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama. The interview with her takes place online. She is sitting in a café in London and is currently busy moving house.

When she talks about acting, it doesn’t sound like a career, but like alchemy. “I started when I was eleven,” she says, “and yet with every project I feel as though I’m starting all over again. And I think that’s a good thing.”

For her, acting is not a ladder, but a circle. A recurring process of learning, of recharging and discharging, of letting things flow through. “I believe an actress’s role is to become a mouthpiece – for something that bridges the ages. Art is something deeply spiritual, political and essential. It’s not about pretending to be something to someone, but about acting, being and growing.”

She prefers the English term actor to Schauspieler: “To act simply means to act. It is not a show or a game, but action and presence. I fill my tank with research, music, movement, observations. And then I release it all through my body. Like a bird shaking itself off after a collision.”

I believe every word she says. Perhaps because she speaks so unpretentiously. Perhaps because her eyes constantly shift between thoughtfulness and a smile. Elsa doesn’t live off acting, but within it: “I’ve learnt to return to myself after every project. I don’t want to lose myself in the roles. Everyone has to find their own rituals for that. Sensory stimuli help me a great deal.”

She talks about a character, a mother, whom she played: “As an actress, you are often faced with the task of embodying people who have had experiences you haven’t yet had yourself. I try to approach this with sincerity and genuine dedication, and in doing so I am sometimes surprised by feelings that change me profoundly.”

She pauses briefly.

“I don’t have children of my own yet. But whilst working on this role, I was suddenly overcome by a feeling of happiness I’d never known before. Perhaps it was a glimpse of what it might feel like to carry a child. I’ll never really know until I’m a mother myself. And that’s exactly why I treat it with great respect. It’s a huge thing, and I have the utmost respect for all the mums and dads out there.”

“I’m actually a patient person, but nothing annoys me more than insincerity. It used to drive me absolutely mad. Nowadays, I just ask – or let it go. I don’t have to change anyone. Maybe someone is authentic in their inauthenticity!” She laughs: “Sometimes that’s interesting too.”

What she looks for on stage or on set is presence: “Sometimes this creates a connection and sometimes it doesn’t – in both cases, miracles can happen. If my scene partner isn’t present, I can only invite them in by opening up even more. As soon as you truly reveal yourself, reflection – and truth – emerge.”

Then Elsa turns political: “I wish Switzerland would be more courageous. That we would promote more actors and actresses, not always the same five faces. There is so much talent here, but the decision-makers in funding need more artistic courage, less fear of risk, less calculation.»

She leans back, thinks for a moment, and adds: «And that doesn’t just apply to actors. The same thing happens with writers, directors and other artists. Unfortunately, in many artistic professions, people are weeded out based on financial considerations – and that limits the potential of an entire industry. It not only makes them more boring, but also poorer in expression and diversity.»

At the end, when the tea has long since gone cold, Elsa returns once more to her original topic: presence. “I believe that the more present you are in life, the less interest you have in destruction – both internally and externally. Presence heals. It makes you curious. And it lets us live.”