Review: Mies joka kieltäytyi käyttämästä hissiä

LASSE PÖYSTI APPEALS IN THE ROLE OF THE MARGINALISED

When innate talent is combined with a lifetime of “devotional” in the temples of Thalia, the result can be an artist in the purest form of the word. That’s how I see Lasse Pöysti.
The respected theatre man may find himself amused by defining himself. In his own books, he has examined the work of an actor, the conscious exploitation of intellect, emotion and instinct that it requires, and mentioned as the “only necessary” in this profession that requires creativity stage authority, prestige, thanks to which the audience not only follows the interpreter, but believes what the interpreter says. “And when you leave the stage, you can be sure that you will be expected back.”

That’s exactly how it is with Pöysti. He is always welcome on stage.
We want to hear every word he has reserved for us. This time, those words were written by the dramatist Bengt Ahlfors. The Swedish premiere was a year ago, and now it was the turn of the Finnish one.
Ahlfors has tackled an increasingly topical topic in our society: loneliness.
A man who experiences the elevator – you know those uniquely beautiful old gate elevators – as his only friend, must be really lonely. The miracle of technology, familiar from childhood, can be trusted, it is a good listener, this Enoch. (The name goes back to the manufacturer of the device; you probably already figured it out…)

An hour and a half can fit an entire human life. Even in its “insignificance”, interesting, funny and tragic. There is an endearing, timid little boy who is bullied. He is a decent man, a meticulous worker, but unable to form lasting relationships due to his inhibition. And in the end, there is a resident of an apartment building without someone to talk to, a freak.
Fortunately, the building has an exceptionally smart and discreet elevator. So why did the man refuse to use it? When the doctor ordered. Walking up the stairs, 128 steps every day, perhaps several times a day, would keep him alive. But the doctor didn’t know enough about addictions.
However, the rules can always be applied to a limited extent and sometimes circumvented altogether. It was suitable for an elevator, not to mention a man.

The dramaturgical structure of the monologue is cunning. That supposedly alienates. What I mean here is that the leader of the role sometimes specifies how the audience reacts and how the expression would be even more effective, and at least not tiring the listeners.
In passing, we think about remembering lines, the importance of pauses, and so on.
But in the story itself, which encourages hopefulness at all costs, its hero gets close to his audience, whom Pöysti interprets in a simplistic, quiet, Chaplin-like warmth.
How plausible is the description of an old man’s affection for his dog; as a friend, it was even more important than Enoch, the best of all, but he died. What about an episode touching on purchased love? Nothing embarrassing, but at most surprising.

I am still puzzled by the memory of the cruelty of adults, of throwing newborn kittens against a rock that has been recorded since I was a little boy. And in connection with this, the conclusion about how a life can be meaningful even if it barely ends.
This is the case if what has been experienced has a place to hurt in someone’s memories even on the better side of seventy.
The lovable is the actor who puts himself on the line for a small person and a good story. No one should be left alone, especially in a welfare society. Right?