“I come from a dark place”

In the scenario of the Goya awards, under the lights that varnish the faces of actors, actresses, directors and technicians, directors and technicians, Richard Gere got up like who carries a weight that he doesn’t seek to hide. His first steps towards the microphone seemed those of someone who understands that success is, in the end, a subtle form of loneliness. The ovation wrapped him, but he, with that air that men who have crossed too many borders of the soul have crossed, thanked without fuss, as if he wanted every word of his to be a minimum offering to an audience that does not need fireworks, but truth.

“Is it working?” He asked with a smile that disarmed everyone present to check if he was heard. Richard Gere, an eternal gallant with a serene look, converted from the beginning his speech into an intimate conversation with each person present there and the millions of spectators in the distance.

He thanked Antonio Banderas to give him the award, and acted as his host in the eveningand added, with a touch of humor that started sincere laughs: “Antonio has fooled himself with this great responsibility to say pleasant things about me. He has done it three times in the last six months.” With these words, the actor managed to lay a bridge of complicity with the public, as if he were sitting at the table with each of them, between wine glasses and shared confessions.

The speech advanced without hurry, with that reflexive cadence of those who have learned to value time. Gere acknowledged that receiving an honorary award may seem a premature gesture, but he accepted it with gratitude. He paused, looked at the living room and said: “This is my new home now.” Those words echoed with a particular echo. Spain, that land that does not forget those who hug her with the heart, had welcomed him as one more. Perhaps the secret of that connection filed in his wife, Alejandra Silva, “that beautiful woman of Galicia” who, according to him, was the real reason for his prize. “He has been with me eleven years. She should receive an award,” he confessed with a laugh, causing warm and complicit applause.

But Gere did not stay on the grounds of conventional gratitude. He soon entered an issue that seemed to beating strongly inside: the love for the actors. He defined them as “Crazy completely”, although he said it with an obvious tenderness. According to him, that madness is what allows actors to stay as children, capable of playing and exploring in a world that often forgets the importance of stories. He cited a Jewish phrase that had always inspired him: “God created man because he loves stories.” And, with that phrase, he connected the art of cinema with the meaning of life.

Richard Gere then spoke of the power of cinema to capture in two hours what eternity overflows. The stories that actors and technical teams build, he said, are not simple mirages, but emotional maps that connect millions of souls. As he described how hundreds of people work together to create a film, his voice acquired a reverential tone. He seemed to be thanking, not only for his prize, but also for the daily miracle of telling stories that transcend time and space.

However, the tone of the speech changed when Gere looked beyond the stage lights. His words became somewhat gloomy, although not less necessary. He talked about a “very dark place” in which he felt his country, the United States, was mired, and, in general, the entire world. He criticized without appointing Trump or other leaders the authoritarianism that extends as a shadow on democracies, a phenomenon that, according to him, does not respect borders. His mention to the president of his country, whom he described as a lawyer and a fool, started a mixture of awkward laughs and murmurs. But Gere did not look for superficial confrontation; His speech was deeper. He talked about how tribalism, that disease that separates us from others, was undermining the essence of our humanity.

At that time, the public stopped seeing the actor. In front of them was a man who, through words, tried to weave bridges between hearts. Gere related how he had recently read a letter in The New York Timeswritten by a man in Hungary who described with pain how authoritarianism advanced without resistance. That anecdote served as a call to action: “We have to be vigilant, alerts, brave, energy”he proclaimed with a firmness that contrasted with the serenity of his voice. The room, in absolute silence, became a space where every word of his seemed to weigh the double.

The climax of his speech came when Gere, in the midst of the darkness he described, offered a light. He spoke of the need to return to basic values: kindness, love, honesty. According to him, these virtues are not grandiloquent gestures, but small daily acts that, in their simplicity, have the power to transform lives. “There is a place in all our lives for basic kindness,” he said, and in doing so, he seemed to be giving the public a message that went beyond the big screen. It wasn’t just a reflection; It was a plea, a reminder that each of us has a role to play in the construction of a more human world.

To close, Gere spoke of the power of silence, a meditative silence that, according to him, allows us to listen to the universe, to God, or simply that truth that lives in the depths of each heart. “Maybe we can all do a little more to listen to really behave as brothers and sisters on this planet”He said, and in doing so, he turned his farewell into an act of faith. Not a religious faith, but a faith in the ability of the human being to reconnect with the essential.

The applause that followed his last words was not only for the actor, but for the man who, in six minutes and 23 seconds, had managed to convey a message of peace and love in a world that needs them so much. That speech, more than thanks, was a gift. Richard Gere had reached the stage as a film star, but abandoned him as a messenger of hope.