Review: Oscar ja Mamma Roosa
The miracle of life in Schmitt’s way
The Frenchman Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt is a remarkable philosopher, writer and screenwriter of films: He talks about the essential things of the “old-fashioned”, such as life, death, love, God, children and adults. He writes clearly, simply and in a way that feels very easy. His books are often small and easy to read. He does not offer any miraculous and new recipe for a happy life: courage, caring, a sense of mystery and secret, the ability to live in the present.
And the strangest thing is that Schmitt is read wildly. His books have been translated into more than 25 languages and plays have already been performed in more than 30 countries. A simple understanding of the depth of life is in demand.
Last week, Oscar and Mamma Roosa, directed by Eija-Elina Bergholm, premiered at the City Theatre. It is based on Schmitt’s recently translated little book Oscar and Pink Mamma.
Schmitt is very interested in religion. He has called his four plays the “cycle of the invisible”, which deal with the essential questions of different religions, from Buddhism to Islam and from Christianity to Judaism. The monologue Milarepa began the series (seen at the Open Doors Theatre in 2001). At the moment, we are also playing Lord Ibrahim and the Flowers of the Koran, a charming book about the mystical Sufism of Islam. The little book Oscar and Pink Mamma reflects on the God of Christianity and the death of a child. Soon, Noah’s Child, based on true events, will be published in Finnish. In it, a Catholic priest rescues Jewish children from Hitler’s clutches and even teaches them Judaism in order to preserve the children’s own tradition.
Schmitt’s mind is broad. Like a true mystic, he does not consider the boundaries of religions to be insurmountable.
Kristiina Elstelä tells in a heart-wrenching way on the stage of Studio Elsa about the last days of Oscar’s son, who is dying of cancer. She smoothly switches from a playaunt to a 10-year-old and back. You can see from the performance that you don’t need much to ignite an important thing and a tenacious story: just one really good actor. An additional dimension to the story is given by dancer Jyrki Karttunen’s movements and floats projected onto translucent partitions. Enchantingly beautiful to look at. The combination creates a whole outlook on life.
A little boy dies, and it’s a difficult place for his parents and the doctor. In his letters to God, the son tells what life is like when he lives it as if one day were ten years on the advice of his playmate.
The same kind of unfinished life can be done in the case of a dying adult patient. Life is made into an intact arc – even if only in the imagination.
Oscar’s son also has time to experience the pains of love and the burden of responsibility. God also visits his mind, and from that miracle, ordinary everyday life takes on a unique splendor.
In the play, the humour of the book is emphasised more than the text read. Both are great depictions of the connection between life and death and the basic miracle of existence: being alive.
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