Review: Aina
Helsinki City Theatre’s Always is a children’s theatre for school-age children, the message of which is aimed at adult audiences. The loss that has befallen the family has plunged the mother into depression. Grief and the joys of everyday life set the rhythm of the family’s survival story nicely acted.
When a children’s play is based on a great tragedy, the solution involves a lot of risks. One of them is to subject the entire performance to tragedy so that nothing else in the whole speaks to, attracts or surprises the little viewer. At the other end of the spectrum, children’s stories are left to too small things: they tell about how a doll disappears, even though in the lives of real children, mothers and fathers often disappear. But still: the loss and discovery of a doll are also big things in a child’s world. Operating on scales is a delicate sport, but Helsinki City Theatre’s play Aina succeeds in this.
One striking feature of modern children’s stories is the discussion of mental health problems. The environment itself is safe and middle-class, but the world is still full of inexplicable threats.
Mental health problems also come up in Aina . The death of her father has led to her mother’s (Aino Seppo) depression. The family’s 11-year-old Aina (Vuokko Hovatta) runs her own and her 4-year-old little brother Aarre’s (Hannes Suominen) everyday life. At school, she has to answer her classmates’ questions about her father’s fate, and she also has to lie to her friendly uncle next door that everything is going well at home.
Written by Kati Kaartinen and directed by Olka Horila , Always draws on strong portraits in which both the text and the acting dare to rely on the joyful union of hints and underlines. The play contains both profound and caricature-like observations of the same characters. The characters can be mannered, but still contain something surprisingly moving.
The unabashed curiosity of classmates Kalle (Jouko Klemettilä) and Jenni (Vappu Nalbantoglu) is half disturbing, but at the same time an indication that the children want to hold on to their classmate. The helpless attempts of the teacher (Aino Seppo) and the substitute to comfort Aina do not extend much beyond the professional minis. However, adults are not only treated as stereotypes, but they are also surprising. The substitute dares to question the strict doctrines of religion class, and even though his anarchy may not hit the mark, the attempt is a good ten. At least the audience gets to laugh properly.
The script intertwines everyday routines with big, world-embracing questions that overwhelm small heads. “What is life?” asks a 4-year-old. Aina asks the same question in her mind, but since she is assigned the role of an adult, she only replies: ah, eat your pancakes. The play contains a lot of similar observations about the intersection of eternal questions and ordinary everyday chores. Their concrete poetry touches me.
Studio Elsa’s long stage is used properly from the beginning. The entire microcosm of Aina and Aarre is built on the stage at once: a home, a stairwell, a kindergarten and a school. Seeing the entire environment at once provides a solid backdrop for the events.
The sky also plays a big part; it curves over Aina and Aarre as a huge night sky or on a cloudless noon. Heaven is actually located in Aina’s mind, it is an escape from a reality weighed down by responsibilities.
At the end of the performance, there is light and the safety of adults. The man (Rauno Ahonen) who reflects the light of the neighbour arranges things and the mother wakes up. Humour blossoms especially at children’s birthday parties, when the neighbour’s husband starts teaching unruly Jenni’s mother manners.
She always creates a comforting and wise light and does not court too quickly, but trusts that a rich text and dedicated performances do not need a smoke machine to support it, but a human presence.