Review: Pappas pojkar

A WEDDING CAKE AT THE FUNERAL

In Simon Mendes da Costa’s Daddy’s Boys , the stage is occupied by a double bed. It is the place where everything begins and everything returns to, also according to the theory of relativity mentioned in the play. The action takes place in the past and in the present, every other scene then and every other now, so seamlessly joined together that the illusion is created that everything happens on the same time plane, which should be impossible according to the same theory of relativity.
Two brothers meet again after many years and the reunion is so heartfelt that the tears flow less. The reason is my father’s funeral, and possibly a hidden inheritance.
The first bedroom scene is skilfully played by Edith Holmström and Sampo Sarkola , and the sequel follows when Maria Lundström , in the role of the wife, takes off her pants from her husband, who has lost a while ago. It’s a triangle drama about infidelity, betrayal and guilt, and about how dad may not be dad, and perhaps some of the excitement is taken away by the fact that these classic ingredients become so obvious as soon as the first card is put on the table.

Sling and mediocrity

Classic is also the constellation between the brothers, one prettier, and equipped with nicer cars than the other, so that old arm wrestles are what come to life when they meet again. As two completely different actors, Sixten Lundberg and Nicke Lignell clash so that the stops are dizzying, one as a testosterone-fueled sling and the other as a pale fat mediocrity who does not operate with his advantages.

Pia Runnakko is a superb comedy who, together with Lundberg, forms a couple that would fit in any Family is the Worst series. Runnakko and Lundberg make the body speak, which is beneficial in a performance that is so largely based on words.
A wordless climax occurs when the funeral guests slip in, soaking wet and shivering to the tunes of Chopin’s funeral march. Otherwise, it’s the dialogue that counts; At the end of the day, the direction is just a framework that keeps the style up. The dialogue pairs all have their own personalities: Lignell and Mia Hafrén as the opportunists who care about their façade, Runnakko and Lundberg as the not entirely polished couple who know each other inside and out, Sarkola and Holmström as the clueless lovers, and Sarkola and Lundström as the man who has something to hide from his talkative wife.

Witty and entertaining

Much is about the fatal consequences of random coincidences, but also about the human need for identity. It is a need that often turns out to be based on fictions about something that is not reality, or something that is constructed from a piece here and another from there.
When a wedding cake appears at a funeral, it is a return to something that has never been processed. In the background, there is also a clash between the rituals of different religions, and the confusion that arises when you cannot read them. Some of the images are hilariously witty, such as the puddle in the pit as a symbol of the sea as a resting place, or the dead child about whom you wonder if it was dead.
It’s a tightrope walk to combine a bottom of seriousness with a string of loose laugh points. The text is full of chatter, obligatory pouring of grog and a penis and clitoral humor of varying degrees of wit. The empty talk must be witty and razor-sharp, if it starts to drag it becomes murderously boring. The equally strong cast does not fully manage to cover up the hollowness of the text; It has many spreads that could be moved in different directions but stops in quite shallow waters.

Losing Louis, smoothly translated by Johan Bargum, belongs to a brilliant British comedy genre where verbal wit comes first. The result is an entertaining performance with good acting, but now there are some worrying signs that Lilla Teatern is content with this kind of repertoire.