Review: Buster Keaton – elämä ja teot
BUSTER KEATON, Life and Times
Rauno Ahonen throws himself into the imaginative life of a talented and mute film star with a big heart. The excellent text is written by Kari Hotakainen. Miko Jaakkola is responsible for directing and Kaisa Kulmala is responsible for skilful music-making.
The comedians of old American cinema are fans in three groups: One likes the hilarious crazy comedy of Pancake and Fat Bunny. Others like Charlie Chaplin’s romantic charm. Still others admire Buster Keaton’s stone-faced, melancholic appearance and his unique humour. Kari Hotakainen is certainly one of Keaton’s fans, because his peculiar, enchanting and poetic study of Buster Keaton is, in my opinion, almost the best of Hotakainen.
Actor Rauno Ahonen and fellow director Miko Jaakkola are probably fans of both Keaton and Hotakainen, as the collaboration has resulted in a seamless, coherent monologue performance that reflects its theme. It says something about the popularity of the work that Ahonen’s monologue gets a new life after four years at the City Theatre’s Studio Elsa, the premiere was once at Teatteri Takomo. The idea is very supportable: Why couldn’t functional, small-scale performances that have gained popularity with the audience be recycled more from one theatre to another?
Hotakainen’s work is an imaginative study of a kind of “keatonism”, a way of being and living laconically, unobtrusively, yet enjoying life. Rauno Ahonen, who introduces himself as Buster, is a spare parts salesman from Vantaa. From this point of view, we begin to tell the perhaps real, perhaps imaginary life of the star of the 20th century, Buster Keaton, from childhood to adulthood. Speakers include a father and mother, a caretaker tired of the villains, his first wife, son Harry Dean in adulthood, co-workers such as Charlie Chaplin and boxer Mike Tyson.
So Ahonen is not alone on stage. He illustrates each character, or alter, with a skillful mime and varying his voice. The characters’ stories are absurdly painful, or painfully absurd, and many of the audience start laughing non-stop.
In the final squeeze, the alters appear on stage at the same time. Either we are at the heart of schizophrenia, or the actor’s virtuosity. I think I believe in both.
The wildest of the characters is researcher Alice Miller, who draws a psychological profile of Buster Keaton in a simple way: “A fragmented and in many ways mentally disabled personality, insignificance.” The character is wearing a shaggy bob wig, neurotic compulsions and a tight, shrill voice. A great insight. Chaplin’s character is also carefully researched and amusingly nuanced.
Ahonen is not physically alone on stage either. He is supported by the delightfully flexible and versatile pianist Kaisa Kulmala. The musician is proficient in all genres and also leads the story with the narrator’s voice. The performance begins appropriately with Ahonen’s melancholic blues guitar playing. The gloom is interrupted by Kulmala’s brisk ragtime, and at the same time, we see Ahonen’s mouths flooding silently with talkative mimes: “what the f….a!”
Soon the duo finds a common sound and the gems of the performance include a rough and tender interpretation of the Moody Blues classic “Nights in white satin”. The Child of Nature, made familiar by Olavi Virta, also gets a delicate interpretation in English. Ahonen’s voice is admirably versatile, as is Kulmala’s free accompaniment. In one scene, the sound is perfectly authentic, as if you were actually watching a silent film accompanied by a pianist.
Jaakkola’s set design is simple and rudely stylish: From the slanted lattice window, a pattern as crooked as a twisted human mind is reflected on the floor. At times, the old, real movie projector rattles and clicks.
The performance is full of Hotakainen’s concise, laconic wisdom of life and the so-called “Peace of Thought”.
one-liners. Ahonen dismisses the need to present his fragmented mind to the audience: “There is no social demand for a whole person right now.” Boxing instruction: “If you have to punch, miss”. On pessimism and positivity: “Melancholy is the cornerstone of a house of joy”. About the relationship: “In that relationship, I had to keep a cool head and my skis ready in the hallway.” Effective, beautifully painful strokes.
Jaakkola’s direction encourages Ahonen to be hilarious, on the verge of virtuosity, even cheeky. The audience is also cynically acknowledged, but the audience is also included in a funny, familiar way. Ahonen is also skilled in sensitivity and presence. The performance is at its most touching towards the end, where Ahonen is very open with the audience with delicate roughness, almost tears in his eyes. Specifically with, not in front, nor above. Rauno Ahonen has become a phenomenal master and a key finder straight to the hearts of the audience.