Interview Peter Seynaeve, Belgian actor and director: “The most important aspect of working with children is creating a safe, trusting space.”

Given the recent success and attention surrounding the performance Medea’s Children (Medea kinderen)[i], an NTGent (Belgium) production directed by Milo Rau, discussions about the role and place of children on the stage have resurfaced, especially in performances that address violence and other difficult subjects. For those who have seen plays created by Milo Rau involving children (Five Easy Pieces, 2016; Lam Gods, 2018), Medea’s Children seems like a typical example of the provocative and unsettling theater that is characteristic of the Swiss director, who has been the artistic director of Wiener Festwochen since 2023. Rau’s signature style always takes on a radical note, which, in Medea’s Children, is translated into the fictionalization of a famous criminal case from contemporary Belgian reality: a desperate mother kills her five children, attempts suicide but survives—much like Euripides’ Medea, which inspired the play. Although the production is not recommended for minors under 16, the performance features children aged between 8 and 14; they are engaged in a playful and entertaining atmosphere, with moments of (apparent) improvisation or erudite speeches with meta-reflections on theater, but it also includes the reenactment of scenes where the Belgian mother kills her children one by one.

This type of theater, where children take the stage and give voice to stories about and for adults, puts them in a vulnerable position. Generally, we are used to seeing children in children’s theater, with their presence being sporadic in other performance contexts. Milo Rau himself has spoken repeatedly about the position of power and the violence inherent to the act of directing[ii], which is highlighted in theatrical projects involving children—projects that provoke critical reflections on the act of imitation/representation of reality and the moral boundaries of theater. However, beyond the dichotomous question of whether or not children should perform in plays for adults, I believe it is essential to discover those good practices and “safety structures”, tested and implemented, that ensure children a functional and healthy environment in any theater production.

I discussed what working with child actors means and the crucial role of the adults who guide them with Peter Seynaeve, the acting coach of the children and one of the two professional adult actors in Medea’s Children. In addition to his acting career, collaborating with established Belgian directors such as Luk Perceval, Seynaeve is also an acting coach and screenwriter (he wrote the screenplay for the film Muidhond, 2020). Following a personal tragedy, Seynaeve temporarily transitioned to directing, which allowed him to express himself and explore his grief; he founded the JAN company, creating a series of performative works with children (including As you like it, 2006, Thierry, 2007, Betty & Morris, 2011), and at CAMPO (Ghent), he created the play Victor (2013) together with choreographer and dancer Jan Martens. Seynaeve has consistently collaborated with Rau on projects involving children and says he is grateful because this has “brought together the two worlds” dear to him, acting and directing/acting coaching.

Peter Seynaeve, Belgian actor and director. Credit foto: Samuel Saelemakers

Teia Brînză: You’ve had the experience of working with established directors and artists as an actor, but you’ve also pursued a path as a director, particularly in theater with children. How did you get here?

Peter Seynaeve: I graduated from acting school in Antwerp, where Luk Perceval, one of my teachers, invited me to join Ten Oorlog (1997), a marathon performance featuring the tragedies of Shakespeare’s kings. That was the beginning of my acting career, and I worked with Luk on many projects over the years. During rehearsals for Death of a Salesman (2004), at Het Toneelhuis, my boyfriend committed suicide, a tragedy that deeply affected me. It became difficult for me to continue acting, and for the first time, I felt the need to tell stories myself. That’s when I shifted towards directing and writing.

I started directing plays, many of which involved children and professional adult actors. I was interested in vulnerability. For about five or six years, I didn’t act at all. Directing these emotionally intense projects became part of my mourning process. Eventually, I realized I needed to stop and let go, so I took a gap year. Luk Perceval, who had been working in Germany, returned to Belgium and offered me a role in Platonov (2013) at NTGent. It felt like a full circle—I was ready to come back to acting with Luk after years of directing.

Later on, more acting opportunities came my way. CAMPO, an art center in Gent, was staging adult performances with children, directed by renowned European directors. Milo Rau accepted such a project, but he didn’t have any experience working with children. So, they asked me to assist Milo, and together we created Five Easy Pieces (2016).

TB: You were also an assistant director on Five Easy Pieces, right?

PS: Yes. Five Easy Pieces is a play about Marc Dutroux, a notorious Belgian child abuser and killer. Milo, known for being a provocateur, was intrigued by the idea of using children to tell this dark story. I initially joined as an intermediary between the children and Milo, not planning to be on stage. However, as we developed the play, we realized the connection between Dutroux’s manipulation of children and how we were “using” children to create art. This led to me being the “teacher” of children, and simultaneously playing the adult manipulating the children – the Dutroux of the play or Rau himself. The play was a success, and we toured for three years across Europe and the world. During that time, NTGent was looking for an artistic director, and I suggested to Milo and the team of NTGent that there might be a connection between them. So, after he became artistic director, he invited me to join his team. I was involved in several projects at NTGent, including Luk Perceval’s The Black – Yellow – Red Trilogy (2019-2022) and Milo Rau’s Familie (Family, 2020) and Grief & Beauty (2021). In Grief & Beauty, I worked with elderly non-professional actors, guiding them on how to perform. film her during her final moments, and I had a whole journey with Johanna. In the play Familie, I was the acting coach for the daughters of the two adult actors in the cast.

Over the last five years, while Milo Rau was the artistic director at NTGent, we always wanted to work on another play with children. When the idea of returning to Medea came up, he invited me to join the team, and that’s how I became involved in Medea’s Children. What Milo saw in me was an actor who is also a director and loves working with children, so that’s what he wanted me to bring to the stage. My role is to coach the children and help them through the evening and the process. It’s a different role compared to Five Easy Pieces, where I was the adult who was using and manipulating them. In Medea’s Children, I’m the companion, the adult who guides them through the experience. I’m there for them, but I can’t make it end. I’m the adult who is aware of the human condition, who understands the cruelty of growing up and being human.

TB: How do you see the role of children in adult theatre? People are used to seeing children play the roles of children, not adults, and it’s rare to find directors who involve children in performances for adults that tackle difficult subjects.

PS: It’s completely normal to involve children in performances for adults. The idea of banning children from being on stage, as it was in ancient Greece, would be foolish today. Of course, people have opinions about what children should be allowed to do on stage and what types of plays they should be part of. For me, the most important thing isn’t the subject of the play, but what the children are doing and the professional environment around them; how they are treated throughout the process and during the performance. It’s essential that they enjoy what they’re doing, understand it, and are not hurt—physically or psychologically. As long as they’re having a good time and are well cared for, they can be involved in any play, even those with heavy subjects like abuse or murder. Many people who see Medea’s children experience strong emotions, especially the parents of the children who are killed on stage. The audience often assumes that the young actors are feeling the same emotions they are, but that’s not the case at all. These children are pretending—they’re acting out a scene. When they get killed on stage, they’re having fun, and there’s sugar blood involved. From the outside, it might look cruel, but as humans, we tend to project our feelings onto others, especially children. For instance, part of the killing scene is pre-recorded. We pretend to slit their throats with a knife, and inside the house on stage, we apply some fake blood with a sponge, meanwhile the recording is projected for the audience. Inside the house, the children are making funny faces exactly when the audience believes their throats are being cut.

Peter Seynaeve, alongside some young actors in the performance “Medea’s Children” (2024); photo credit: NTGent

TB: It’s fascinating how the convention of theatre plays into this—everyone knows it’s just a performance, but seeing children involved adds a layer of discomfort because we don’t usually associate them with such violent acts. This distance creates a sense of vulnerability for the audience. How challenging is it to get children to play these complex emotions, especially when they haven’t experienced them in real life?

PS: Everything I learned in acting—the Stanislavski method and so on—is completely different from how I work with children. With them, we’re not trying to dig deep to find those emotions within themselves. We’re acting, we’re pretending. My approach is simple: I ask them, “Let’s pretend we’re in pain” or “Let’s pretend you’re sad,” and we have fun with it. At no point am I teaching them psychology or asking them to delve into their personal experiences. It’s quite the opposite of what I learned in acting school, where the focus is on going deep into your soul and your pain. Sometimes, I even question whether adult actors need to do that. When I started working with children, I immediately realized that this wasn’t the right approach for them. Instead, I use tricks, we find playful ways to pretend, like asking them to change their voice, make it comedic, or use a weird accent.

TB: How would you describe, in broad terms, a rehearsal with children? Does working with children take more time than working with adults?

PS: No, actually, children learn their lines much quicker. Their brains are fascinating. For instance, in Vienna, one of our young actors, Vik, got sick and couldn’t perform. The other children immediately volunteered, saying they knew Vik’s lines. Within two hours, we re-arranged the entire performance without cutting a single line. They didn’t know the importance of the Wiener Festwochen, so they had zero stress, and nobody in the audience noticed. As a professional actor, I never know other actors’ lines. Children are much better at remembering texts. Their concentration tends to fade after about three hours, so it’s important to take breaks and never work for more than two hours in a row. They can’t work continuously on a play for six weeks. Instead, we might spend half a year in rehearsals, meeting on weekends. This extended time together helps build trust, which is essential when working with children. They need to feel safe and confident. The most important aspect of working with children isn’t teaching them to act, but creating a safe, trusting space. You need to be genuinely interested in them, in their daily lives, listen to them, and understand who they are, not treat them as puppets. If they don’t trust you, they won’t be able to perform. For example, there’s a scene where a girl has to perform a panic attack, and she can only do that if she trusts the people she’s working with. The challenge is to find each child’s comfort zone and work within those limits; you have to see what they like and what they’re comfortable with. I try not to force them into roles that don’t suit them. That’s also how Milo Rau works—we don’t hand out scripts with predetermined roles. We get to know the children first, then decide who will play what.

TB: This involves a lot of psychological work. It’s interesting that you mentioned the panic attack because many spectators and critics thought it was real. One of the aspects that makes Medea’s Children so powerful is the fine line between acting, the children’s personalities, and following the script.

PS: Yes, most people are usually curious about two things after the performance: first, how we did the throat-cutting scenes, and second, whether the panic attack was scripted or not. The girl who plays the scene knows this, and she loves it. She often says, “Yes, I’m sure they believed it was true. I saw a woman in the first row crying—yes, I nailed it.”

TB: I’m sure it’s very difficult to make these reactions appear so natural, but how hard is it to stage this spontaneity?

PS: It’s hard, but what helps is that I’m on stage with them. I can continuously engage them, change my lines, and keep them grounded in the moment. That’s my job as both an actor and an acting coach—to maintain that spontaneity. From the beginning of rehearsals, I teach them what improvisation is. They have their lines, and I have mine, but every day, we approach it a bit differently. I ask questions differently, and I encourage them to respond differently each time. This would be much harder if only children were on stage; someone needs to guide them who understands the game we’re playing. Over time, they start to understand it more and more, and they begin to play back with me. This level of spontaneity can only be achieved through continuous practice. Unlike with adult actors, where you rehearse, have the premiere, and then just perform, with children you have to keep rehearsing and performing continuously. The preparation time before the performance is longer.

TB: The child actors seem to have very profound reflections in the performance. They often talk about a real person, Dirk Crommelinck, the child guidance. They say that, just like Godot, he was always with them without actually appearing on stage. What is the difference between the child guidance (what Dirk does) and the coaching (what you do)?

PS: Dirk has worked at NTGent his whole life. He was involved in public relations, organizing events, and guiding tours for visitors. For the rehearsals with the children, we asked Dirk to help with the organization. He made sure they arrived on time, brought them to rehearsals, and took them for walks during breaks. He wasn’t directly involved in the creation process, but since it was his last year at NTGent, his contributions were acknowledged by including him in the performance. This is a typical example of how Milo Rau works: he takes elements from reality and incorporates them into the script. During rehearsals, we also ask the children how they feel about the process and their thoughts on topics like death. Milo picks out the interesting responses and writes the text using all the ingredients from the rehearsals. The final script blends the text of the ancient tragedy, the story of the Belgian woman who killed her children (documented from newspapers, interviews, etc.), and the children’s own words. Milo, along with Kaatje de Geest, the dramaturg, skillfully pieces these elements together, creating connections and layers of meaning in the play.

TB: How much of the final script reflects the children’s thoughts versus Milo Rau’s?

PS: They are actually their thoughts, but Milo selects what aligns with his intentions. After hours of interviews with the children, in the end, only 10 sentences might be retained. They are the children’s words, but they say a lot about Milo and what he wants to tell.

TB: Performances like this set a standard that could be used by other theater practitioners when it comes to working with children, so roles like the acting coach and child guidance seem essential.

PS: Absolutely. Building trust is crucial, and Dirk’s contribution is important, being outside the rehearsal room but involved in the organizational process. Then there’s Lien Wildemeersch, who plays the role of Medea, and myself; we were both present at the rehearsals. It’s important for one of the adults to be on stage with the children so they aren’t alone. It’s also essential to have someone accompany them throughout the day and during tours. Additionally, there’s a psychologist who followed the rehearsals and regularly talks with the children. Each of them has spoken individually with the psychotherapist, who also followed the rehearsals and discussed with them how they feel individually and as a group, about the subject, whether they like what they say, etc. The psychologist was also in direct contact with us and could inform us if the children were having difficulties. Having a professional therapist involved is very important when dealing with topics like murder or child abuse.

TB: How do children react to violence and the fact that adults can be so violent? Are they curious to know more, and how do you explain these things to them?

PS: In the discussions after the performance, we ask them, “Why do you think people do this? Do you understand why someone would do such a thing? Could you do this?” We don’t have answers to these questions, and neither do they, but we engage in frank conversations, in a way that is adapted for children. We don’t avoid these discussions, and that’s why it’s helpful to have the therapist at rehearsals, to figure out how to talk to them about what the play is really about. Even though it’s a play for adults, we give the children space to express their thoughts.

TB: Do you interact a lot with their parents during this process?

PS: Oh, yes! In fact, this is an important part of the work when you’re dealing with children on such subjects—you have to build a connection with the parents as well. It’s not just the children; it’s the therapist, the coaches, the child guidance, the surrounding environment we work in, and the parents. The parents need to be involved throughout the whole process. It’s essential to meet with the parents without the children to discuss what’s happening during rehearsals. They are part of this journey with their children and understand the subject and content of the play. Although they are never in the rehearsal room, they are very much part of the process. They can share with us how things are going with their children. We had a strange case during the premiere with the first group of children. The second group had two weeks of rehearsals before their premiere[iii] and came to watch the run-throughs and performances of the first group. By that point, the second group had already filmed the throat-cutting scenes, so they knew exactly what the play would be like. The boy who played Vik came to see the show but couldn’t watch the killing scenes, so he left the room. It was a difficult moment because we wondered if he would still be able to play the role. We talked with him, his parents, and the psychologist, but the child had no problem. He had no difficulty playing the role, he wanted to play it, but he didn’t want to watch those scenes.

Scene from the performance “Five Easy Pieces” (2016); photo credit: Phile Deprez

TB: I was thinking about this myself after the performance that the directorial goal here isn’t necessarily understanding but rather creating a sensory experience—one that makes the audience feel discomfort and perhaps even aversion. The reflection comes afterward, with the children acting as lenses for this experience.

PS: Yes, that’s very much in line with Milo Rau’s belief. Reflection only comes after you’ve either turned away from watching or after you’ve witnessed it. In France, a woman who saw the performance described it as very “soft”. She meant “soft” in the Buddhist sense—if you have a wound and you want it to heal, you have to face it. If you don’t confront the wound, it can’t heal. She found the play to be more about healing than cruelty, offering an empathetic take on Medea—a humanist way of viewing this tragedy. For Milo, it’s crucial to show the wound, to face it directly. In the real after-talks following the play, people often ask, “But why? Why do you have to show it?” I can’t answer for Milo, but for him it is essential to show it because that is the only way to truly extract something meaningful from the story. If you don’t confront the pain, you can’t reach catharsis.

TB: It’s true that Milo Rau is taking the risk of being criticized for misusing the children, who some critics say are just vessels for his thoughts.

PS: Every artist and every director use their actors to tell a story, whether they are adults, children, old people, or even animals. That’s part of the creative act. So yes, of course, Milo is using these children to tell the story in his own way. But I’m totally convinced—and very proud of this—that we are not misusing these children. We don’t put them in roles they don’t want to play, and we don’t force them to say things they don’t want to say.

TB: What do you think children can bring to a performance that adult actors cannot?

PS: Adult actors have more professional tricks up their sleeves that children don’t have. The big difference is vulnerability, something adult actors can learn from children. Children’s performances are more naive, therefore more vulnerable, and for me, more touching. Often, when I watch an adult actor, I can appreciate their skill, but it doesn’t always move me because I can see how they’re achieving the effect. With children, it’s different. They don’t have an awareness of the impact of their actions; they are naiver and more vulnerable, two beautiful aspects of life, in my opinion.

TB: Indeed, if you create a safe environment and take all the measures we’ve talked about, then the children feel involved in a creative act, without the risk of being misused. This aligns with Milo Rau’s stance against representation. By bringing children on stage, he avoids identification with the characters, which is part of his provocation. People focus on the children’s age, and that’s how he challenges us, by making us confront our own perceptions.

PS: Exactly. It’s not just entertainment; you’re challenged to think and feel something. The goal isn’t to simply applaud and go home. You’ve been shaken, and now you need to process, reflect on what affects you, and philosophically decipher what the performance means. Of course, some people will hate it, and others will love it. But deep down, I am absolutely convinced that these children are safe and what we’re doing is not violence

[i] The performance Medea’s Children premiered at NTGent in April 2024 and is currently on tour across theaters in Europe. You can read more details about the performance and find out where the next shows will take place by visiting: https://www.ntgent.be/en/productions/medeas-kinderen.

[ii] In this discussion about the performance Five Easy Pieces, Milo Rau elaborates on ideas such as the power dynamics and the violence inherent in the act of directing in productions involving children:

https://www.theatrenational.be/en/articles/387-milo-rau-about-the-background-to-five-easy-pieces

[iii] To comply with legal restrictions on the number of working hours permitted for children and to prevent them from being overworked, the performance uses a double cast, with two different groups of children alternating between shows.