Posted by Sari

At the appropriate time of year, we get NT Home production of Midsummer Night’s Dream from the Bridge theatre directed by – who else – Nicholas Hytner. And it is brilliant.

Midsummer Night’s Dream is a play that easily bears multiple interpretations from erotic fairy-tale to light family comedy. It can be seen as the comedy obverse of Romeo and Juliet or it can stress the more serious themes of (toxic) patriarchy and infidelity. And I think its malleability proves that the text is much more than just a delightful romp through the woods.

Hytner’s production has not apparently been everybody’s cup of tea. For one, It is very immersive and fourth-wall breaking. The action takes place on raised and lowered platforms with groundlings standing all around and herded by the movement stewards to appropriate positions when the actors and platforms move, so audience is very much part of the production. Even more, there is interaction between audience and the performers: Puck and Bottom address the audience, Puck crowd surfs, and in the most famous scene, the rude mechanicals borrow a cell phone from audience member to check the stages of the moon.

There is also quite a lot of ad-libbing, short answering phrases or jokes slipped in between the Shakespearean dialogue. I think it works well, but I can see why that would jolt some people.

Most importantly the play – as so many productions now days – plays with the gender roles. For modern (feminist) audiences, Dream’s text can be pretty rough: Egeus and Theseus want to force Hermia to marry Demetrius on the pain of death, Hippolyta is literally Theseus prisoner, Oberon wants to take Titania’s page, and then plays a trick on her by making her fall in love with Bottom as an Ass.

Here Hytner first makes Athens a repressive religious patriarchy, and then queers the play to eleven by switching the dialogue between Oberon and Titania in the forest scenes. It works brilliantly. As Hytner follows Brook and most post-Brook productions in doubling the roles of Theseus and Oberon and Hippolyta and Titania, the shenanigans in the woods influence the stern Theseus and defeated Hippolyta of the first scene, and by the end, they, through Oberon and Titania, have found new sides to themselves. Similarly, as Hippolyta, Gwendolyn Christie can’t offer Hermia anything else but sympathy from her glass-case prison. As Titania she can help both pairs of lovers and teach Oberon a lesson.

All the actors do a good job. David Morst is an obvious standout as very punk Puck and is great both in delivery and the physicality he brings to the role (The fairies spend most their time on circus slings doing acrobatics – a homage to Brook and his trapezes, maybe) But my favorites are firstly Oliver Chris’s Theseus/Oberon, he is outstanding both as an unyielding Theseus and love-sick fairy-king, and the way he sort of blends together both his roles in the playacting scene is great. Secondly, Jamie-Rose Monk as Snug the Joiner. She had great comic timing and her freestyle wrestling lion was hilarious. She also delivers a great song for Oberon and Bottom.

This would have been a great production to see live, especially as a groundling, but even the cinecast was a delight.

If Hamlet is my favourite of Shakespeare’s tragedies, then Twelfth Night is my favourite comedy – not terribly original, I know, but there it is. Neither is it terribly original to point out that for a comedy, Twelfth Night has an element inherent sadness and wistfulness, the melancholia hangs like a veil over even the most comedic moments in the play. 

Written around the turn of the 16^th and 17^th century, Twelfth Night tells a tale of twins: Viola and Sebastian who shipwreck on the coast of Illyria both thinking the other dead. For reasons, Viola decides to dress up as a boy and finds employment at the service of the ruler of Illyria, duke Orsino. The Duke is terribly in love with countess Olivia who is mourning her brother and wants nothing with the Duke’s suit. As one might suspect, Viola falls for the duke and Olivia with Cesario (Viola-as-a-boy). It is indeed, as Viola says to the time: “thou must untangle this, not I; It is too hard a knot for me to untie!” And time chooses to stir the pot by sending Sebastian, who of course looks just like Cesario to Illyria too.

The subplot concerns Olivia’s drunken uncle Toby and his efforts to get his niece to marry a silly knight Sir Andrew Aguecheek, and Olivia’s servants’ common effort to take her majordomo, stuffy Malvolio down a peg. 

My favourite production is Renaissance Theatre Company's wintery and romantically melancholy production from 1980s, which transposes the action to Victorian era and has especially fine Feste in Anthony Lester, and deliciously pompous Malvolio in Richard Briers. This National Theatre production also transposes the action, this time to modern time and though it won't unseat the RTC production as my favourite, it was nonetheless extremely interesting take on the play.

There are a number of Shakespeare’s plays playing on gender and sexuality: a boy actor playing a girl who dresses up as a boy. Who is really attracted to whom? This modern interpretation of the Twelfth Night is not the first to play with this dynamic, but it puts the question of gender front and centre: Sebastian’s saviour Antonio’s canonical love for his charge is decidedly carnal, and Orsino is obviously having a re-think of his sexuality when wrestling with Cesario. Simon Godwin’s direction goes further by casting Fabio, Feste and especially Malvolio as women, and thus underlining that the modern interpretation happens in the world were gay marriage is a fact: Malvolia can dream of marrying Olivia. It is an interesting take on the play that nudges the text just enough to make it seem different.

The production has great design and sound world, and I have to admit I love productions that integrate musicians to the play and bring them on the stage as this does. The pacing is good, and though there is a bit too much physicality to my liking, it does not detract from the poetry.

The acting is uniformly of quality. Phoebe Fox brings to Olivia a wonderful vulnerability, she clumsily overdoes her seduction of Cesario and does recognize when that crosses over to actual harassment in the pool scene. Tamara Lawrence is a bit at sea (pardon the pun) in the beginning, but as Cesario she really shines. Oliver Chris’s Orsino is a bit of an ageing Romeo, but has enough charm to see what Cesario sees in him. Sir Toby is deliciously played by Tim McMullan as a permanently drunken rock star in tight jeans and velvet jacket, and Daniel Rigby’s Sir Andrew livens the proceedings with a manbun, pink socks and physical comedy.

But there were also problems, or maybe necessary exchanges. Modern setting brings into the focus the themes of gender, sexuality and even sexual harassment, but does erase other power structures in the play. Feste and the maid, Maria, are dependent on Olivia’s good will, as is Sir Toby’s income. Malvolio, as the majordomo of the household, is also in position of power over the staff, and conversely, one of the reason he relishes his potential marriage to Olivia is to put Sir Toby on his place. Feste, as a Shakespearean fool, tells the truth to power and there is an inherent danger in doing that, that the modern production does not capture. All in all, Feste is the character most difficult to transplant to modern age, and though Doon Mackichan does a good job, especially in the party scene, the character remains a bit of an enigma.

Another exchange was Tamsin Greig’s Malvolia. Her work is so superb it somewhat unbalances the play. Malvolia really is in love with her employer, the letter scene is a revelation to her and to us, and the interplay between audience and Greig is electrifying. And when she appears before the baffled Olivia in yellow stockings and cross-gartered her ridiculousness is mellowed by true feeling.

But: I have always read the play so, that Malvolio is not in love with Olivia, he sees the letter as an opportunity to rise his own station. The greatness is thrust upon him, he will accept it, and use it to humiliate Sir Toby, Maria and Feste. Thus when he is thrown into a dark cell, it is a comeuppance to a petty marionette with delusions of grandeur. But poor Malvolia, a kill-joy that she is, is nevertheless a woman who takes a chance on love and is cruelly punished for it. It is heart-rending and wrong, and really wholly undercuts the happy end of Olivia and Sebastian and Viola and Orsino. In this production, the rainy melancholy truly carries the day.

Posted By Sari

This outing to the theatre via the movie theatre was interesting for quite a number of reasons, but mainly because this was the first time I have been to see a production of Shakespeare where I had not studied or at least read the play before. All I knew was that it was one of the Shakespeare’s later works, its name indicates that the story is fantastical, there is some sort of statue scene and it is often viewed as problematic to classify because it does not fit with the folio’s division to comedies and tragedies. I did not even know that the famous stage direction “exit pursued by a bear” came from this one. (Wikipedia has more, if you need to know)

In fact, the bear episode is a good example why the play feels somehow off: bound by his oath, Antigonus leaves the new-born baby Perdita on the Bohemian coast (yes, I know….). He exits pursued by a bear and the Young Shepherd in the next scene describes quite graphically how the bear has torn him apart.

 Antigonus is quite distressed that following his oath means leaving a baby to its probable death: “Weep I cannot, But my heart bleeds; and most accursed am I To be oath enjoin’d to this”. He has been shown to be a kind man and is loved by his wife – the moral centre to the play – so his death should move us. But his demise is related to us by the comic relief character who basically swaps quips with his father about the situation, does not even try to help Antigonus, and kindly promises to go back to check if the bear left something for him to bury. Sorry, what?

The plot does not have twins or girls dressed as boys, but otherwise has quite a lot of familiar Shakespearean tropes from jealous husband and star-crossed lovers, to a young girl distributing flowers to all and sundry. The first half is a tragedy, the fourth act is broad comedy and the last an eucatastrophe where repentance is rewarded in two great denouements (first of which happens wholly off-stage!). Is it mature Shakespeare experimenting and re-inventing form and genre, or a tired playwright just putting something together for the new season? Are the Shakespeare scholars so enthusiastic about the last plays – The Winter’s Tale, Cymbeline, The Tempest and Pericles – because they are underappreciated masterpieces or because it is much more difficult to say anything original about Hamlet? Go figure.

I do have to say though, that the off-screen reunion between Perdita, Leontes and Polixenes is in a twisted way pure genius. It is the money shot, the moment we have been waiting for: father and daughter reunited, the childhood friends falling to each other’s arms, forgiveness all around. And we, the audience get this by report by three unnamed gentlemen, one of which even tells us that “Then have you lost a sight, which was to be seen, that cannot be spoken of”. The WtF-factor is even greater if you don’t know how the play ends.

If The Winter’s Tale leaves the audience a bit uneasy and at sea – by design or not – what about this particular production? I have a really ambiguous relationship with Branagh as an actor and director. Some of his work I love, sometimes I think he pushes things just over the limit from drama to melodrama. I do love his diction which means that though I can’t watch his pompous movie-Hamlet without squirming, I find his BBC radio version (with Derek Jacoby and Judy Dench) pretty awesome.

I was a bit hesitant about this Winter’s Tale because Rob Ashford’s and Branagh’s much applauded Macbeth from Manchester few years back seemed to me an unrestrained muddle without any nuance, and really wasted Alex Kingston’s talent. Luckily, The Winter’s Tale turned out to be quite an interesting and sometimes even gripping production.

Even if it seems to be quite a popular period to set The Winter’s Tale in, I did appreciate the Edwardian setting of the play. It both brought the theme of gender nearer the viewer and also evoked the Frist World War by drawing parallels between Leontes and Polixenes on one hand and three of Victoria’s grandchildren leading the European monarchies to war on the other. The sets were beautiful and gloriously lit, music appropriate and well used, and the melancholy wintery feel of first half of the play reminiscent of Branagh’s superb Twelfth Night from 1988. And if the singing and dancing bucolic Bohemia of the IV act did seem out of place, we mostly have Shakespeare to thank for that.

Branagh’s Leontes is to certain extent slave to the plot. His jealousy to his wife and best friend comes out of nowhere and grows into an unreasoned wrath in an instant. There is not much time to be subtle. The way the production neatly implied that Leontes was jealous to both parties helps a little: he is afraid not only that his wife is unfaithful, but also and maybe crucially, that this his best friend is choosing the said wife over him. Also, if his actions are considered in the light of the discussion about good governance and tyranny (both on national and familial level), the lightness of his motivation possibly does not matter that much. Even so, as a character his unmotivated and stubborn jealousy makes him difficult to relate to.

Branagh does generally a good job with the text, but in this production he is overshadowed by her long-time theatrical partner Judy Dench as Paulina, a lady in waiting for the queen and the one character who dares to challenge Leontes. The tension between the two is tangible and crosses even the screen, especially in the third act where Paulina comes to tell of Hermione’s death and accuses Leontes of tyranny. The way Branagh’s knees cut out under him when he hears her makes for a magical moment of theatre. And then, of course, he has to push the scene just that one bit more with a pitiful moan and into the realms of melodrama.

The rest of the cast do a good job. Miranda Raison is a noble Hermione, who well sees her own powerlessness in man’s world, John Shrapnel is solid Camillo, and Michael Pennington sympathetic Antigones. Hadley Fraser as Polixenes is somewhat muted, but does come to his own in the silly fourth act when he reveals his presence to his wayward son whom he has been observing in disguise and proves to be quite an inflexible familial tyrant himself.

The young lovers of the two last acts were a mixed bag. I am sure it was a directorial decision to make Tom Bateman’s prince Florizel declaim his lines in overtly noble manner, but it does make his character somewhat annoying – a hot headed young Edwardian gentleman full of noble ideals and little idea how to go about fulfilling them. It was sometimes difficult to see what Jessie Buckley’s clever and earthy Perdita sees in him.

The character that most makes me think The Winter’s Tale is not quite a cohesive play, is the trickster character Autolycus in the last two acts. He seems superfluous, and his actions only create plot holes he himself has to explain away in a short monologue in the last act. Here his song-and-dance act is taken on here quite competently by John Dagleish, but I do find the character and his role in the play a bit of a puzzle.

All in all, as a play, I am not quite sold on The Winter’s Tale being a masterpiece. But as an interpretation Kenneth Branagh theatre company, himself included, managed to make the play relevant and interesting – never mind statues, bears and country girls named Mopsa.

Posted by Sari

One of the drawbacks of living two hours ahead of Greenwich mean
time is that when the National Theatre began streaming their shows in
cinemas, the timing proved to be a problem for Finnkino. Now we get
only a selection of the NT Live performances, and after the fact.
Still, much better than nothing as this outing once again proved.

Nicholas Hytner has made a name for himself for his modernised
Shakespeare productions at National and his this years hit, Othello,
continues the trend. Sometimes the modern dress can be a (tired)
gimmick, sometimes a way to bridge the gap between modern audiences
and the Shakespearean language, and sometimes, like here, it can
bring the play into a focus in a way that a period production never
could.

This Othello emphasizes the military context of the play. After
the first act on the streets of Venice and bunkered command centre
the action takes place on a closed military base in Cyprus. The war
against the Turk has ended before it really started, and we are left
with a bunch of soldiers with nothing to do, confined inside their
harsh modern compound. It is a perfect claustrophobic set for Iagos
words to work their poison.

The modern setting also allows an interpretation which is less
about race and the ugly racist stereotype of bestial blackness that
the play often enforces. Here Othello, masterfully played by Adrian
Lester, is first and foremost – not to mention very self-consciously
– a soldier. That is where his self-confidence comes from, that is
what he is valued for. That is why he he believes his ”honest Iago”
– a fellow soldier – and that is why loving Desdemona too well
forces him out of his comfort zone and into a tailspin.

The fact that Olivia Vinall's Desdemona is even more ethereal,
young and naive than in some I have seen emphasizes the disconnect
between Othello's military world and her civilian one. In a modern
army base, Desdemona with her bad posture, flip-flops and sweatpants
is even more of an anomaly: a disruption to the routines of the
soldiers and distraction to the commander.

Iago is often played as an evil genius, a puppet-master expertly
tugging the strings of other characters. Kinnear takes a different
approach. He is angry and wants revenge, but the whole play feels
more like a cunning plan slipping slowly out of control. He is inchoately goading reactions out of
other characters, and when in the end he is left for a moment to
stare his handiwork the look on his face is more baffled and
incredulous than satisfied.

The key scene in the play is the one where Othello eavesdrops on
Cassio and Iago and then succumbs to an epileptic fit; after that
there is a sort of sordid inevitability to the rest of the play. Here the
scene is played under the sickly white light of a barrack's men's
room. Othello is eavesdropping the conversation from a toilet
cubicle, and the scene ends when the mocking Iago standing over the
prostate form of his general, downs a glass of water we thought he
meant for Othello. The callous, unexpected act forces an
uncomfortable laughter out of the audience. It is difficult to imagine the scene better realized.

For his credit, Hytner manages to keep the tension going even after the
turning point and gives us a powerful last scene: Othello’s
violence, Desdemona's desperate fright, Emilia's guilty, volcanic
anger all make compelling viewing, and is made even more poignant by
the Willow-song scene preceding it. The camaraderie between Emilia
and Desdemona who are here sharing a beer on rickety lawn chairs is palpable, and
both Vinall and Lyndsey Marshall act the hell out of the scene.

As with Hytner's Hamlet, this is a great, contemporary
interpretation of a classic, and in this case a truly problematic classic. The production made Othello more coherent than the text actually is, and wrought excellent performances
form the cast. Extra thanks go to the director of the NT Live
production, who kept the action all the time dynamic without visibly
forcing an extra layer between the viewers in the cinema and the
actors on the stage.

Posted by Sari

Hamlet is my favourite of Shakespeare's great tragedies. Its poetry is unsurpassed, and its themes are so rich that there is always room for new interpretations. It is also a play that is easily reduced into a parody of itself: an oidipal mad prince spouting a potpourri of famous quotations about life, universe and everything.  It is perhaps then not surprising that none of the productions I have seen, mostly on film, really hit the mark. As a matter of fact, my favourite Hamlet on film has thus far been Iain Glen in Stoppard's film of his own play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead – partly, I suppose, because the structure of the play leaves Hamlet a mystery. Ros and Guil were never able to glean what afflicts him.

As luck would have it, Hamlet seems to be in vogue and thus there are new opportunities to meet the melancholy dane even for us living far away from the anglophone stages. BBC has adapted RSC's much lauded version with David Tennant for TV, and National Theatre streamed a live performance of their equally acclaimed version to movie theatres around the world  in December.

The RSC production is the older one and already out on DVD. It shouldn't surprise anyone that The  Tenth Doctor is a good Hamlet. Tennant has been doing RSC productions for quite a while, and his nervous, physical energy translates well to the part. I especially liked how he is  almost unrecognisable with his solemn suit and flat hair in his first scene, and how differently he plays the first monologue compared to the others, like a breakdown. It is only after the ghost's news he transforms his sleeked back hair into the more familiar unruly mop and brings his more familiar almost manic style to play. His Hamlet is clearly a young volatile man in a situation over his head, his vulnerability underlined by his bare feet. The supporting cast is good, especially Penny Downie as Gertrude and Patrick Stewart as a cool Claudius. Mariah Gale's Ophelia was probably the best I have seen, though I have to say that to make Ophelia's descent into madness credible you have rely heavily on extra-textual elements. As it is written, her character just does not make sense as anything else except a symbol.

Gregory Doran's direction has been transferred to film fairly statically, most of the action stays in the throne room, until the scene between Gertrude and Hamlet after which – maybe mirroring Hamlet's move from introspection to action – there is lots more variety in scenery.  All in all, I found the direction and staging relatively unobtrusive giving the actors room to breathe.

As interesting and succesfull as RSC Hamlet is, the National Theatre's version wins this competition hands down. There are a number of similarities between the productions. Both have a modern setting, Cornelius has been transformed into Cornelia, and as the RSC/BBC did with the cctv images marking the change of scenes, the National Theatre's version also draws attention to the act of observation, of being under scrutiny.

Hytner's direction at National Theatre takes the interpretation further. Here Denmark is a modern dictatorship masquerading as democracy, Polonius is brilliantly transformed from a bumbling fool to a sinister spymaster, and Hamlet's personal revenge is balanced with the politics of a police state. Everybody is always under surveillance in this Elsinore, everyone is maintaining a public image. Claudius' first speech is a televised address, and the whole tragic massacre seems to bring little change, as the play closes with young Fortinbras lamenting the events to his own camera crew.

The actors are almost all superb. Patrick Malahide's Claudius is a masterpiece of malevolence. ”My words fly up, my thoughts remain below./Words without thoughts never to heaven go.” made my blood run cold. Clare Higgins' psychologically astute Gertrude, corrupted by the power structures she depends on, drowns her self doubt and loathing to drink. Ruth Negga's Ophelia made more sense than most, and her death – murdered by secret police – gave more insight into Gertrude as she knowingly lies to Laertes about her fate.

But all this would be nothing without Rory Kinnear's award-winning performance as Hamlet. He is simply blindingly good. He somehow manages to make the soliloquies sound both new and right, he deftly deleniates between Hamlet playing mad and Hamlet loosing himself, and he is able to change his register from comedy to tragedy in a heartbeat. His stage presence is hypnotic, his diction is clear and natural and the way he humanises the character makes for a coherent and extremely satisfying interpretation. The end result is the perfect Hamlet for our time.

Posted by Sari

Mestariluokkaa esitettiin viimeksi Helsingissä vajaat 20 vuotta sitten. Kansallisteatterin Willensaunassa Stalinia esitti Pentti Siimes, Prokofjevia Leif Wager, Shostakovitsia Jarno Hiilloskorpi ja Zdanovia Risto Aaltonen. Se oli silloin suurmenestys, yli 200 näytäntöä. Se oli silloin myös nuoren elämäni yksi vaikuttavampia teatterikokemuksia. Kerrankin tuntui siltä että suomalaista teatteria jatkuavasti vaivaava jäykkyys, hitaus ja pakonomaisesti korostettu fyysisyys oli heitetty syrjään ja luotettu tekstiin. Kahdenkymmenen vuoden takaiset muistikuvat ovat kuitenkin hataria, se mitä produktiosta päälimmäisenä oli mielessä oli näytelmän komediallinen huippukohta jossa Zdanov, Stalin ja säveltäjät yrittävät kollektiivisesti luoda suurta kantaattia Georgialaisen Rustavelin ritarirunoelmasta.

Jos Siimes on suomalaisen näyttämötaiteen ikoni niin sitä on toki myös Pöysti, jota Kaupunginteatterin uudessa produktiossa komppaavat lähes yhtä nimekkäät Suosalo Zdanovina, Sarkola Shostakovitsina ja Roine Prokofjevina. Ohjaaja molemmissa produktioissa on sama, Kurt Nuotio. Ei siis ihme että tähänkin produktioon ovat lippujen saanti työn takana vaikka Kaupunginteatterin suuri näyttämö vetää kymmenkertaisesti sen mitä Willensauna.

Tila kuitenkin toimii jossain määrin produktiota vastaan. Mestariluokka on neljän näyttelijän intiimi näytelmä ja ainakin kaukaa parvelta katsottuna jokin näytelmän intensiteetistä katoaa tilaan, vaikka ohjaaja on pyrkinyt sijoittamaan tapahtumat lavan eteen, mahdollisimman lähelle katsojaa. Ohjaus on myös suomalaiseen tapaan liian löyhä. Turhaa tekemistä, turhia hiljaisuuksia. Teksti ei ole kuitenkaan menettänyt mitään intensiteetistään. Kissa-ja-hiiri-leikki diktaattorin ja säveltäjien välillä on edelleen vuoroin hyytävää, vuoroin hupaisaa katsottavaa.

Näyttelijöistä parhaiten minusta onnistui Sarkola Shostakovitsina. Vaikka näyttämöllä keskiössä on Stalin, pohjaa Mestariluokan idea kuitenkin Shostakovitsin kiisteltyjen postuumien muistelmien esittämään dilemmaan taiteilijan asemasta diktatuurissa. Sarkolan paksujen lasien taakse suojatuva, surullinen ja poliittisessa tilanteessa hapuileva säveltäjänörtti on mainio luomus. Roineen Prokofjev jää hiukan valjuksi, Suosalo puolestaan uhoaa ja ärjyy Zdanovina niin että sanoista on joskus vaikea saada selvää. Zdanov on näytelmän paha poliisi, kulttuuria vastaan vouhkaava filistiini. Välillä lavalla kuitenkin tuntuu unohtuvan että  tämä on Zdanovin tietoinen valinta, ei primitiivireaktio. Pöystin sanojaan hakeva Stalin on lupsakampi kuin Siimeksen luomus, kun hän ja Zdanov ensimmäisen näytöksen lopussa alkavat "soittamaan" Prokofjevin tuotantoa on shokki katsojalle melkoinen koska väkivalta tulee ei mistään.

Hyvää teatteria siis, mutta ei loistavaa. Silti, edes säällisesti esitettyjä tekstiin ennen kaikkea nojaavia näytelmiä on tässä maassa niin harvassa että tämäkin on lähde autiomaassa. Jukkakin väitti pitäneensä ja sai vielä illasta hauskan anekdooinaiheenkin 🙂

Tapahtuma tv:n sivuilta on linkki pieneen viedokoosteeseen näytelmästä.

Posted by Sari

Du-Dun-Duu
Siskoni sai jo kesän alussa fiksun idean selatessaan juhlaviikkojen ohjelmaa. Silmiin sieltä pisti Rajattoman ja Tommi Kitin yhteistuotanto Du-Dun-Duu. Pian oli liput hankittu Finnconin jälkeiseksi viikonlopuksi ja astelimme yhdessä Alminsaliin perjantaina Ruotsi-ottelun kuuluttajan pauhatessa taustalla.

Modernia tanssia olen aktiivisemmin seurannut viimeksi 1990-luvun alkupuolella eikä se koskaan ole ollut niin keskeinen kiinnostuksen kohde että osaisin väittää aiheesta erityisesti tietäväni – lempiteoksenikin on Ensimmäinen maailmansota –maniaani liittyen jo 1900-luvun alkupuolelta, Kurt Joossin klassikko Vihreä pöytä.

Du-Dun-Duu oli monella tavalla kiinnostava taideteos, todellinen kollaboraatio Rajattoman ja Kitin tanssioiden välillä. Rajaton ei seisonut lavalla asennossa luomassa musiikkia vaan liikkui tanssijoiden lomassa, osallistui tilan muuttamisiin ja oli asusteita myöten orgaaninen osa teosta. Erityisesti tässä mielessä pidin tavasta jolla laulajat ja tanssijat rajasivat ja muuttivat tilaa nostelemalla puupenkkejä ja asettumalla eri muodostelmiin lavalle.

Du-Dun-Duu olisi helposti voinut muodostua fragmentaariseksi Rajattoman laulujen liikekuvauksiksi mutta Kitti kumppaneineen onnistui tekemään tanssiteoksesta kokonaisuuden. Usein musiikin ja rytmin kanssa kontrapunktissa liikkuva elekieli ja hiljaisuuden vallitessa esitetyt sidososat toivat työhön jatkumoa.

Lisäksi teoksen rakenne loi taitavasti jännitteitä yleisölle. Alun jazzahtavat vokaliisit olivat abstrakteja huipentuen valituksesta suoraksi itkuksi liukuvaan Mome –kappaleeseen joka sai tervetulleen epämukavan olon katsojassa taiteillessaan intiimin, traagisen ja naurettavan rajoilla. Sitä seuraavat Kirsi Kunnaksen runojen sovitukset laukaisevat jännitteen taitavasti ja antavat katsojalle jotain tutumpaa johon reagoida. Teos huipentuu kristilliseen Stabat Materiin. Chydeniuksen henkeäsalpaavan kaunis melodia yhdistyy teoksessa koreografisesti ensimmäisen kerran selkeisiin tarinankerronnallisiin elementteihin.

Samalla tavalla jännitettä teoksessa mielestäni luotiin ja laukaistiin tanssijoiden vähäisellä kanssakäymisellä. Tanssijat tuskin koskettavat toisiaan teoksen aikana eivätkä kaikissa osissa edes ota katsekontaktia toisiinsa tai laulajiin. Tästä johtuen takia, kun viimeisessä numerossa  ”Maria” kurottaa kättään koskettamaan ”Jeesusta” tuntuu tämä erityisen merkitykselliseltä.

Oli myös hauskaa vertailla kuinka erilaisesti koimme siskoni kanssa teoksen. Orgaaninen, koko kehosta lähtevä liikekieli muistutti siskoani kovasti itämaisista voimistelu/taistelulajeista joihin hän oli tutustunut ja hän kokikin teoksen kinestesian kautta tuntien kehossaan miltä liikkeet hänestä tuntuisivat. Minä taas  tulkitsin koreografiaa enemmän kuvioina ja lavalla oliijoiden välisenä kanssakäymisenä, ehkä jopa miiminä koska minulle tämä tapa liikkua oli ihan yhtä liikekokemukseni ulkopuolella kuin vaikka klassinen tanssi.

Kaikin puolin siis mielenkiintoinen iltapuhde.