This was certainly true when we saw the TV adaptation of Kristian Smeds’ “The Unknown Soldier” that has been shocking and delighting the theatre audience in Finland for almost two years now (photo below from Kansallisteatteri). I’ve never seen the play before but I (as the rest of the Finns) had developed quite profound knowledge on the piece based on the obligatory reading of the novel at school and on the film version from 1955 they broadcast (and we watch!) in television every year on Finnish Independence Day (if you have forgotten the story, this is a 3 minutes version of it.
I very much enjoyed the play and was slightly amused that this had caused such a scandal in Finland. The original novel and film have gained such a sacred place in the Finnish society that all different interpretations are considered as blasphemous (at least so long as some of these courageous soldiers are still alive). I have to admit myself that hearing Jean Sibelius’ “Finlandia” makes me see the Finnish soldiers crossing a marsh as in Edvin Laine’s film. This symphony is a symbol of Finnish nationalism and it is naturally also used in Smeds’ theatre version. However, the symphony was composed when Finland was still a grand-duchy of Russia and during the 90 years of independence we have added some other important songs in the national memory. In 1995, one of the greatest patriotic culminations took place when Finland won the ice hockey world cup against the Swedes. A song “Ihanaa Leijonat ihanaa” (fantastic, Lions, fantastic) was created from the commentaries of the legendary Antero Mertaranta. This song is heard alongside Finlandia in Smeds’ play – and it works. Old nationalistic symbols are complemented with new, and for younger generations more meaningful, symbols – with a hint of irony.
My second – and this time much more intimate as I was smelling his bitter perspiration – encounter with the Finnish director was yesterday when we saw his other performance “The Wonderer” based on a traditional Orthodox tale of a pilgrim. The audience sat around a table on which the story was drawn as the main character, the pilgrim, was narrating his story.
I got my premiere on a theatre stage as a poker player as Smeds chose me for this minor role in the play. This must be the fear of all the theatregoers: in the interactive part of the play you are asked to join the actors. However, this wasn’t the part that later made me think of my lost opportunity. After the play was finished, the director shook my hand and thanked me for my participation. Normally, I should have said something witty and thank him for his performances in the festival. But no, in front of this exceptional and, at the moment, the hottest Finnish director, I gaggled and suddenly lost my competence of Finnish. As the audience was offered tea, I was wallowing in self-pity. In usual conditions, I manage to say at least something embarrassing… Obviously, I’m more suited for academic circles than mingling with celebrities.
No comments:
Post a Comment