The comic energy of Raúl Cimas, the comedian of the moment | EL PAÍS Weekly

“Explained, he loses,” says Pepe Colubi. “Trying to define Raúl Cimas’ humor is like squeezing a handful of sand.” Your friend and companion in Illustrious ignoramuses He believes that “Raúl should not analyze it, but take advantage of it”. Berto Romero, who coincided with Cimas in several programs by Andreu Buenafuente and those of El Terrat, does not see himself capable of “theorizing” about the actor either; To define the vision of the one from Albacete, he prefers to emphasize that “he has such an overwhelming personality that we can imitate him”. “It’s not absurd,” he said, “it reminds me of the great actors of the 70s, José Luis López Vázquez, Manolo Gómez Bur, Manuel Alexandre…”. He begins to imitate the high-pitched, nasal voice of the actor on the telephone (eye, level deep false): “I have specialized, he is the only person I know how to imitate, he is so particular that sometimes I have the impression that he imitates himself… In any case, the voice is funny but anecdotal, what is astonishing about Cimas is the filter with which he sees the world.” In other words, you can copy its timbre and tone, but what makes Cimas “inimitable,” Colubi points out via email, “is the perfect symbiosis between content and delivery (what snobs call delivery)”: “He plays with words, distorts thoughts and expands situations, but conveys his ideas with rhythm and cadence. It’s music.”

Raúl Cimas, 49, started in comedy somewhat by chance while he was studying Fine Arts in Cuenca. With his group of university friends – Joaquín Reyes, Ernesto Sevilla, Julián López, Carlos Areces, Pablo Chiapella, Aníbal Gómez… – he revolutionized the national humor of La Mancha in the early 2000s in The singing hour And new girl. He has done monologues, theater, advertising, cinema, short films and a lot of television, and all this without letting go of his brushes: his comics are collected in a thick volume entitled Mamotreto (Blackie Books, 2020), in the early vignettes of which he talks naked with pineapple yogurt about how boring people are. Even though he has never stopped, this year he has been particularly busy: he collaborates with Future imperfect (the program that Andreu Buenafuente created last May on La 1); compensated for the loss of Javier Cansado, “the good guy “Illustrious ignoramuses” (according to what Cimas himself told his new colleagues); He is a recurring guest on The revolt from Broncano (the current molar thermometer); and premiered the second season of little faith (Movistar Plus+), the series that, in 15-minute episodes and with two losers as protagonists, fell in love with Spain.

“I have never felt so loved as with this series,” says Pepón Montero, creator of little faith with Juan Maidagan. “And it’s thanks to Raúl and Esperanza (Pedreño, the main actress), who made the characters much more endearing than they were in the script.” The first season left the couple formed by José Ramón and Berta on the verge of separation: “People were asking us in the street not to separate, that had never happened to me,” says the director over the phone. “As absurd as it may sound, Raúl brings tenderness to José Ramón,” says Montero. “The affection he arouses among the public is astonishing, like that of a good bear.”

Berto Romero also resorts to what snobs would call an ursine comparison: “He’s a very funny snow bear, but at the same time menacing, a clearly winning combination. He plays very well with the great legacy of comedy, building tension and then breaking it, to the extent that he is good at it.”

The three Wise Men who appeared in the comedy laugh while remembering some of their legendary sketches. The gag of the failed playwright Francisco, aka Philippe Max (played by Cimas in a red-haired wig and headscarf), who was doing a children’s show at about 23-F at his old school in the city and shouted to a child, “When you walk through that door, you’re Tejero, you’re not Borja anymore!” », before telling him that for an actor, he was fat. The first time Cimas “stole Berto Romero’s heart” was by donning the shy short-sleeved shirt of the planeswalker who sang in new girl a slightly techno theme: “There is no time for love, I do it with a square and a bevel. » Colubi declares himself “a big fan” of Jaime Walter in Coconut Museum (also with beautiful hair and a scarf) or the policeman in the film Those in the tunnel, but admits that José Ramón of Little faith, for which the actor was nominated for the Feroz and José María Forqué awards, is his “weak point”.

By urging them to analyze Cimas’ comic formula, the trio highlights his ability to mix registers: costumbrismo with the absurd, the surreal with the close. “He is the heir of José Luis Cuerda, who, of course, fell in love with him,” explains Berto Romero, recalling that when they both worked with the director on the film Time after, He always gave him more lines than the others. “But he also has one foot in Monty Python,” continues Buenafuente’s collaborator, “he plays with the humor of the city and the neighborhood, he is traditional, he invents stories, he makes jokes, he uses puns… He is not disgusted by anything, and all this without becoming sophisticated, remaining in the everyday.” The key to achieving this, to being close and connected, is, according to Colubi, his ability to observe what surrounds him: “He always has the radar on, then he covers the quantum stills of observation with simplicity. He breaks the everyday to rebuild it in his own way, and invites us to unravel the absurdity that inhabits every gram of our being.”

“I don’t want to see anyone. Leave”: Chronicle of an attempt to save Christmas by Raúl Cimas

Raúl Cimas has repeatedly said that he does not like giving interviews, partly because in his undisguised television appearances, when he talks to Buenafuente, Broncano or Javier Coronas about his childhood, his in-laws and his cousin Tere, or when he expresses ill-considered opinions, he oscillates between reality and fiction; You never know how much of what he says, or how he tells it, is funny and how much is true; a serious discussion would spoil the magic. “Because, like all good comedians, Cimas’ humor is very personal,” explains Pepón Montero. “An interesting comedy always comes from an author, from someone with a different point of view, and Raúl has perfected his over time, he has taken great care of it, he works hard at it, of course, but he also has a head that moves at full speed.”

“The secret lies in her indissolubility between text and speech,” summarizes Colubi, “she is as clear in person as in front of a microphone.” Berto Romero agrees with the diagnosis and admits that he is one of the people who make him laugh the most, even if he doesn’t want to, “on stage and off”. “For Cimas, two people are already an audience,” laughs the comedian. “And he’s a sadist, if he sees you laughing, he’ll hold you until you fall to the ground laughing, he has inexhaustible comic energy. I’m running out of it, I need to turn it off. But he can always stay there, in this aggressive and at the same time tender energy of his comedy.”