Angie Cepeda: 'Everyone ended up talking about the topless scene, and the truth is, that traumatized me a little.'

Angie Cepeda has worked on fifty productions—mostly films—in countries such as the United States, Colombia, Peru, Mexico, Italy, Brazil, Spain, and Argentina, among others, with directors such as Sergio Cabrera and Paul Vega. Her impact in front of the camera has resonated with different generations: some remember her for the soap opera Las Juanas, where she began her career; others for her first film appearances, in Pantaleón y las Visitadoras ; and younger ones for having lent her voice to one of the characters in Encanto , the Disney blockbuster set in Colombia. At 50, Angie Cepeda talks about the decisions she has made to build a career that challenges the clichés of Latina actresses . This is her interview in BOCAS Magazine.

In 1995, while filming Ilona Comes with the Rain —Sergio Cabrera's film based on the novel by Álvaro Mutis—Angie Cepeda knew she would dedicate the rest of her life to film. They were in a house in Havana, the production crews spoke Spanish and Italian, everyone focused on their work, looking for a way to make every image perfect. Above all, Angie remembers the silence, an extraordinary detail for an actress who, like her, came from the fast-paced world of television.

Angie Cepeda 's career has been marked by decisions: renunciations, steps or searches that she has always taken with a cool head to build a career that reflects who she is: a Colombian actress (coastal, to be exact, although it would be difficult to say if from Magangué, Cartagena or Barranquilla) who has tried not to fall into the stereotype of the Latina and sexualized woman, and who with each role seeks to learn, create and, above all, enjoy her work. There are more than fifty productions in which she has worked, among which stand out Ilona Comes with the Rain (1996) by Sergio Cabrera, Pantaleón y las Visitadoras by Francisco Lombardi, Samy and I (2002) by Eduardo Milewicz (in which she worked with Ricardo Darín), Il Paradiso All'Improviso (2003) by Leonardo Pieraccioni, Love in the Time of Cholera (2007) by Mike Newell, and Encanto, among others. Not to mention iconic soap operas like Las Juanas (1997), with which she became recognized throughout the country, or the presentation of programs like Persiana Americana, by Jorge Enrique Abello and Karl Troller, where she interviewed personalities like Juanes when he was the vocalist of Ekhymosis.

“I think ending up here was a matter of destiny,” she says. However, every step in her career, every role accepted, every trip, is the result of almost strategic decisions. Whenever she felt she was being seen as a model, or that she was being pigeonholed into the stereotype of the typical Latina beauty, she sought to make 180-degree turns, take her time, and carefully choose her next step. All to build a persona in front of the cameras that reflected who she is on a daily basis: a friendly, irreverent, and, above all, calm and sensible woman.

She was born in Magangué in 1974. She was the only one in her family born there, as her father was appointed mayor of that municipality at that time. She says she's been a nomad all her life: she spent her childhood in Cartagena and Barranquilla, where she was a Carnival princess and sang with Lisandro Meza in a town on the Atlantic coast, and her youth in Bogotá, where she began studying advertising and landed her first roles. She later studied in Los Angeles with Eric Morris, an acting master who has also worked with Jack Nicholson and Johnny Depp. And, without really putting down roots, she's spent her life in Lima, Mexico City, Madrid, and Buenos Aires, always pursuing projects that excite her.

Now, in a Bogotá studio for the BOCAS photo shoot, she's wearing her hair down, baggy jeans, and a black T-shirt. When she sits down for her makeup, she asks for the most subtle look possible. She came to the city to present Astronauta , her most recent project: the story of a couple and a personal crisis, filmed in Lima, where Angie reunited with Salvador del Solar, with whom she had previously worked on Pantaleón y las Visitadoras.

On a sofa, behind the camera, she opens a suitcase and begins to unpack the clothes she imagines the photo wearing: she chats with the photographer, imagining poses and combinations. She creates the images together with him. That's Angie Cepeda: an easygoing and calm woman who found in film a way to live at her own pace.

You've acted in films based on important works of Latin American literature: Ilona Comes with the Rain by Álvaro Mutis, Pantaleón and the Visitors by Mario Vargas Llosa, and Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez. How do you relate to literature in your work?

I was lucky to have been part of the adaptations of such wonderful books. For example, in Love in the Time of Cholera, by director Mike Newell, I remember that when I read the book I loved that character, the Widow of Nazareth. The casting for that film was in Madrid, and that's where I met the director. I auditioned for another character, Olimpia Zuleta, but my manager and I, just from having read the book, had talked about the widow. When I met Mike, I said, "Hey, if I don't get this one, consider me for the widow; I loved that character." And so it was: they called me back for the widow, and it was very powerful. The scene was where she fell asleep with Florentino and started talking about her late husband, but it was very sexual; something difficult to pull off because it was a beautiful sexuality, not at all morbid. I went all in, and despite being embarrassed, they gave me the role.

How have you dealt with those stereotypes? How have you dealt with that image of the sensual Latina woman?

It wasn't easy. I never considered myself a sex symbol . Long before making Pantaleón y las Visitadoras, I participated in a calendar called Sueños del '94. The photos were very pretty, but I remember that in the end I wanted to get away from that world of photography and agreed to do Persiana Americana, a very cool music show where I had to interview all the bands that came on. On YouTube, you can still find my interview with Ekhymosis, with Juanes with his hair down to his waist. Although I was as a presenter, it was a more spontaneous approach, a way of being irreverent on television. I did it to try to shake off that image of being sexy, simply because I didn't want to be seen that way. Then came Pantaleón and my character Olga Arellano, and... Phew! For me, that was tough. It was very hard because, from the book, I saw that it was a character very different from me. I did a lot of things to be able to tackle it: I changed my voice and accent, I studied it, I put a lot of effort into it… But I felt like everyone ended up talking about that topless scene, about my physique, and the truth is that traumatized me a little… Well, traumatized isn't the right word. It made me uncomfortable. It made me uncomfortable that all of society's attention was directed toward that and not toward my work. Then everything started to change. And why did it change? Because I turned down a lot of roles. No way! I wasn't going to let them pigeonhole me into that; it would have been the death of me professionally if I'd let that happen.

Tell me about your earliest memories: you were born in Magangué, but grew up in Barranquilla.

The thing is, I've been a nomad since the day I was born. I think it was my lot: before I was born, my family lived in Cartagena. My sisters, Ivette and Lorna, were born there, and suddenly they left for Magangué because my father was appointed mayor. That's where I was born. Later, they returned to Cartagena, and that's where my first real memories are. Yes, I remember a couple of things in Magangué, the open house, the hanging hammocks, but from Cartagena, I do remember the freedom: we used to go to the beach on bicycles, when the entire Castillogrande neighborhood was still made up of houses. It was wonderful. Later, my mom got a job in Barranquilla, as a regional prosecutor, and I lived there from about age nine until 19. That was another stage: I have memories of my first Carnival, because I was a Carnival princess; of my first love… All of that.

And how was that first love?

With all my love, but I prefer not to go into that subject in depth for personal reasons.

What's the story about how you ended up singing with Lisandro Meza at a Carnival?

Oh, yes! Imagine I was 17 years old and I was a Carnival princess, and somehow I knew a song by that guy who had a piece backwards: “In the city of Pamplona there is a square, in the square there is a corner, on the corner there is a house…” Gosh, I still remember! It’s a tongue twister, and at the end, a mat, a stick, a parrot appear, and it ends again in the city of Pamplona. I don’t know where I learned that from. One of the most fun parts of Carnival is that we go from town to town, all over the Atlantic. Then in one of those towns, there was a Lisandro Meza concert, and suddenly the guy comes up and says: “Who’s coming up to sing this song?” And I knew it and sang it with him and won a bottle of aguardiente.

How does culture enter your life?

I think it was more a matter of destiny. My mom liked music, my dad poetry, I don't know. But I had no real reference that it had anything to do with film. In fact, Lorna, my sister, studied psychology, I studied advertising... But I did always have a passion for creating. The typical thing: in school I put together plays, dances, I invented choreography. I remember a Vogue dance a lot, the Madonna song, and I would just replay the video to find all the details. And when I started going to the movies and watching films, my favorite hobby was locking myself in my room to recreate the characters. Alone in my room, I would put a half-veil on my head, as if it were my hair, and I had a lot of fun: I spent hours inventing stories. That's why I say it was destiny, it was something that came to me. In that sense, my mom always supported me in everything. My parents separated when I was about six, so at that time it was my mom who influenced my decisions. My dad re-entered my life later, but at that time she was my mom, and yes, she supported us in every way. When I told her I wanted to leave Barranquilla, she supported me and said, "Study in Bogotá for at least six months and live with your aunt." And then, when I told her I was going to pursue acting, she was totally supportive.

Tell me about Las Juanas. It was the first major telenovela you starred in, and it was a milestone for television in Colombia.

That was crazy. It was like being in a project that was like an anti-novel, in a way. I remember Bernardo Romero Pereiro, who was a star. The music, which was so joyful… Because it had something very García Márquez-esque, a tone, characters, landscapes like magical realism. The filming was in Corozal, and we had an incredible time. It was there in Las Juanas that a Peruvian producer saw me and told me he wanted me to participate in a Peruvian soap opera called Luz María, a true melodrama. I wasn't sure, but he got it into his head that it had to be me, and although in Colombia they were making some super cool, regional projects like Las Juanas, Hombres, Caballo Viejo… because they really made a very unique kind of television, I said: "How could I pass up that opportunity?"

How was that experience in Peru?

Well, we worked with a prompter, imagine. The first thing I said was, "Listen, no. I'll study the role and do it, but I'm not going to be acting with a voice in my ear telling me what to say." But notice why I say it's destiny: if I hadn't gone, I wouldn't have gotten to Pantaleón and I wouldn't have done so many things that happened to me because I got into film.

Tell me about that word: "destiny." How do you understand it and how do you connect it to your most spiritual side?

I think there's a synchronicity in the universe that makes everything work. Everything works in sequence, nothing is a coincidence; neither good nor bad. And there are only decisions: how do you react to a situation? I'm going to get philosophical, but I think that when you're born, there's a map of elements that shape you: the decisions of your father, your mother, but from a certain moment on, you acquire that responsibility. In that sense, I think everything at the beginning of my life was destiny: I had to be at the university where they were filming Sangre de lobos so they'd see me and invite me to participate on television, for example, but there comes a point where you say: how do I direct that destiny? Where do I want to go? And a mix of the two is created. That's what guides you. And I think the key to that is acceptance. It's something that comes with time, but it's the ability to see what presents itself and say: do I resist it or do I accept it? And it's not worth resisting, but if you don't like it, you have to put it back on track with a decision.

For example: at what point did you make the decision to leave television aside and dedicate yourself to film?

It was with Ilona Comes with the Rain, the first film I participated in. There we talk about destiny again: I had made Candela, which was my first leading role, with Víctor Mallarino and Florina Lemaitre, and Sergio Cabrera was there as producer, which later led me to make that film. I remember we were shooting in an old house in Havana, Cuba. And I also remember the silences; that was what I liked most. The Italian production team, there, with their accents, and Margarita Rosa, all beautiful—I would watch her act and think, wow! Everything was so meticulous and respectful! The times were totally different from those of television: they took hours to light the film, and there was a kind of mystique behind everything that happened. That fascinated me. I understand that there are moments in life that you have to take with intensity and times when your spirit slows down, but I prefer to take it easy. I said, "I'm going to do this for the rest of my life." And I knew it wasn't immediate and that the next step was to prepare myself; I had to study.

And he went to the United States.

Yes. I studied with Eric Morris, a wonderful acting coach. I studied with him and his partner, Susana Morris, in Los Angeles for years. I'd work, get a project, do it, and when I wasn't filming, I'd come back to study. And it's funny because here, destiny and synchronicity come into play again. At first, I was obsessed with going to study in New York, but I had a manager who lived in Los Angeles, and she said, "What do I mean, New York? Come to Los Angeles!" Then I went to Argentina to film Samy y yo, which also featured Ricardo Darín. And I asked them, "Do you know any acting coaches in Los Angeles?" And they said, "Sure, Eric Morris." And it was different people: the director, Leonardo Sbaraglia, who's another Argentine actor with whom I made another film called Oculto... So I got the courage, called, and said, "What do I have to do to study there?" And he said, "Nothing. Come." And that's it, I went to Los Angeles.

How do you learn to act?

Well, he has two books that are a complete guide. The first is called No Acting, Please, and the second is Irreverent Acting. His technique is basically about uniting acting with experiences and experiences. It's very different: it's about finding tools to go to the deepest places within yourself and find the point where what's happening in the film is real. He also talks about discovering, not planning, the next moment. Being unpredictable, like in real life. For example, there are preconceived ideas about how things should be: if you're sad, you have to start crying. And not necessarily: in many moments, you're sad and you laugh; everyone experiences sadness in their own way. For example, when my mom died, I didn't shed a single tear at the time, and she died in my arms. I saw everyone crying, and I was just like that, with her, in shock. If they put me through that scene, they'd probably want me to cry, but maybe not crying might give it more strength. I don't know. You have to discover the experience and see where it takes you. That's what technique is all about, and that's why I loved getting there. Besides, coming from television, I had a lot of bad habits. And it's hard to unlearn. I remember that one of the most difficult exercises for me was the one where you had to sit in a chair and do nothing.

I'd like to invite you now for a quick rundown of your career. Tell me a story you had with Ricardo Darín on Samy y yo.

No, well, Ricardo is a tremendous actor. I remember one time we did a really cool, long scene, in a long take, and in the middle of it, it started to rain. He's so good: he started writing the script, including the rain, and I followed along. It's really cool to have a scene partner you admire and who inspires you, because that also elevates your work.

One with Robert Duvall, the unforgettable Tom Hagen from The Godfather...

I made two films with Robert Duvall. The first was called A Night in Old Mexico, in which he acted; the second was Wild Horses, in which I acted and directed. I won the first one through a casting call, and although he was only participating as an actor, he insisted that I be the one chosen. I remember that the day before filming began, he sent me a very nice letter in which he talked about why he thought I was perfect to play Patty, the character I was going to play. That touched me, made me feel welcome… And that was his intention, to reassure me, because I was very nervous about working with someone like him, whom I had always admired. And on the first day of filming, when he wasn't working, he came and started telling jokes… He made me feel part of that team, and I'll be forever grateful to him for that. After we made that film together, he offered me the role in Wild Horses, which he was going to direct: he played my father in it, and it was wonderful.

One of Il paradiso all'improvviso.

We shot it in Ischia, a beautiful island in southern Italy, where The Talented Mr. Ripley was also filmed. I don't think I've ever eaten as well as I did when we filmed that movie; I ordered spaghetti alle vongole every day, I think. One day, in the middle of filming in a random house, a member of the production team made homemade pasta, just like that, out of nowhere, in a flash. That only happens in Italy.

What a beauty. That was my pandemic movie. Note that I almost didn't do that casting because it said I had to prepare a two- to three-minute song that they would know, and although I've sung in two films, I'm neither a singer nor do I feel comfortable singing. But one day I saw I had the time and said, "I'll send it in, I have nothing to lose." I chose a song from Grease, one by Betty Rizzo and it's in my tone, I learned it, recorded myself, and they chose me. The shoot was virtual. You went relaxed, without makeup, in a sweatshirt, and then it was a challenge because it's about feeling and expressing everything with your voice.

Astronaut is now being released. What led you to decide to act in this film?

The first thing is that I liked the story because it tells the story of a couple's experiences. And that's very universal: these are human conflicts told in a very simple way, and although this story was filmed in Lima, it could happen anywhere. Another thing was that they told me that Daniel Hendler was going to act in it, and I really wanted to act with him. Salvador del Solar was also there, and we've been friends since Pantaleón, and Paul Vega, the director, was there, and since he's also been an actor, I knew it would be very positive.

I feel that director-actors or director-actresses have a different sensibility: since they've experienced the craft firsthand, they give the actor space on set to find their own answers, so the adjustments flow more freely. I knew that with Paul we would be able to have that creative exercise. And yes, that's how it was.

Throughout your life, you've had relationships with well-known figures, such as the Argentine singer Diego Torres. However, you've always avoided talking about or revealing your personal life. How do you manage that line between public and private life?

When I was dating Diego, that topic was crazy, and I think I learned that it wasn't a good idea to bring it up in the workplace. Nowadays, it seems strange to me to talk about it. Why would anyone want people to have an opinion about what they do? If the topic of my life, my friends, the people around me comes up in a conversation, I can open my heart; but gossip about "who you're dating" is superficial and tiresome.

And how have you managed to avoid this issue on social media, where life is so exposed?

I don't have the ability to be a full-fledged Instagrammer. It's a characteristic that I think pretty much defines my personality. There are days when I'm connected to the sun, to my sun, and there are others when I'm more connected to my moon, so I want to go to sleep. I can't fake that on Instagram: if I want to go to sleep, there won't be a post that day, period, and I'm not going to be thinking about creating content because I have to post. There are days when it just flows with me, I connect with it, and I feel like sharing it, and I really don't know how to do it any other way. Now, I do admire super organized people who handle it so well, but it's a lot of work, and I'm just not like that.

Finally, you've dedicated your life to cinema. But do you go to the movies?

Yes, a lot. I can watch two movies in one day. You have to see movies on a big screen because film acting is different, everything is more subtle, and you need that breadth to be able to capture all the details. It's sad that this habit is being lost. I take advantage of my time traveling for work to see local films: it's what I enjoy most. If I'm in Madrid, I try to find Spanish films that I can't see anywhere else.

And what is it like to see yourself on screen?

It's a strange feeling. It's always a little embarrassing to see a film you're acting in for the first time. Now I ask for the links and always watch it first, especially because there can be a lot of differences between what was written in the script, what you experience during production, and what comes out after editing. I've had it happen several times that I've gone to a premiere and that feeling was terrifying.