Review: Veljeni Leijonamieli
Helsinki City Theatre’s My Brother Lionheart
It happens a little too often that when you are really looking forward to an event or thing, the end result is inevitably disappointing, because the expectations have grown too high. Helsinki City Theatre’s My Brother Lion’s Heart was the kind of event that we have been waiting for for months without lying.
Ever since we had reached the end of the book with Napero, we read it over and over again, went through our favorite passages and talked about the different twists and turns of the story. The opportunity to see this story live on the stage of the theatre right now was therefore an impossibly great opportunity. Fortunately, the play was also an exception to the rule: despite the long wait and the expectations placed on the play, the Helsinki City Theatre’s Brother the Lion’s Mind is anything but a disappointment. We both loved this play.
From a classic to the theatre stageThe story of My Brother the Lionmind is certainly familiar to most people, but how familiar? I had forgotten it in many places before we read it again together this year. Today’s children’s literature has real gems and works of very high quality, but Astrid Lindgren is in a class of her own. While reading the book, I noticed that I myself empathized with the story more strongly than usual, reciting insanely beautiful things with special care, and watching with emotion how the child fell asleep in the evening with the book under his arm. My Brother the Lion Mind became his favorite book in one fell swoop. The story of two brothers, Joonatan and Korpu, is a timeless and stunningly powerful story about brothers, love and the struggle between good and evil, which can never be escaped in this world. Although the story has a lot of darkness and heavy subjects, it is still full of light and hope through and through.
Raven, played by Alexander Wendelin, and Mikko Kauppila’s Joonatan were even better in their roles than I dared to expect. The naivety of an innocent and timid little boy is perfectly present in the corpus when he has to grow up braver than you could have imagined. Joonatan, on the other hand, appears a little different in the play than in the book: the character is quite restless, and brings to Jonathan a certain kind of teenage boy’s rebellion and defiance. I think it suited the character perfectly, because who of that age doesn’t feel injustice particularly powerful and personal? At the same time, the big brother-little brother relationship gained more momentum, as the big brother is accompanied not only by worry and love, but also by the frustration that the little brother demands to be involved. But what happened when the little brother is the one who goes through the biggest growth and development – this is mainly Korppu’s own story.
Fairytale Nangijala
Nangijala is a world that could be anything. The valleys, illustrated by mountains and forests, are lush green and full of adventures. At the same time, they are a space formed by the imagination. Nangijala if anything requires diving into your own mind and drawing ideas with the power of imagination. What a juicy opportunity for set designer Vilma Mattila, who has had the opportunity to bring this world to life on the stage of the theatre!
What seems very simplistic at first is anything but. Nangijala lives and breathes, and it is built of bricks just like the human imagination as events unfold. What a great realization this has been, because in retrospect, I can’t imagine Nangijala, where the landscape is and will remain – no matter how beautiful it is built. These sets are attached to the very core of the story, and they are played and built as if they were told with a child’s imagination when telling stories. The building blocks create mountains, tunnels, rapids, and even mounts and dragons. Because that’s how a child’s mind works: a familiar tree in the yard turns into a monster in the dark, and a climbing stone turns into a pirate ship when playing. The rotating platform adds to the impression of movement and travel.
One thing I also fell in love with was the outfits of the Nangija: costume designer Heidi Wikar has ingeniously combined today’s hoodie fashion with historical hooded capes and tunics. In an otherwise light world, these outfits also brought color to the stage. It’s a strange thing, but the shades of gray and bluish are exactly how I would describe My Brother the Lionheart. Perhaps because the world is so dreamlike, or because the atmosphere dealing with death has taken on these tones. The colours in the midst of this paleness remind us of the same thing as Orvari’s unforgettable words: freedom never dies.
The fantastic ensembleMy Brother Lionheart combines musical theatre, puppet theatre and choreography. The puppets are present from start to finish, not only maintaining that dreamlike illusion of bluish hues, but also softening the most violent elements of the story. We see Joonatan jumping from the roof with Korppu on his back as if he were a miniature model, and the struggle above the rapids and in the tunnels through the dolls. It adds depth to Nangijala because we are not limited to what is happening on stage only. The puppets enlarge the space around them and take the viewer further away, as it were, so that the impossibility of the situation is emphasized. Tengil, the oppressor of Rose Valley, is more comical than scary as a small puppet figure above the rest, but isn’t that how it often goes? Oppressors wag their fingers out of the reach of ordinary mortals, and make even their more fearsome warriors do the dirty work for them.
Music builds a threatening atmosphere around events, and music equally crystallizes hope for better and freedom. For me, the wildest moment was the vocals that broke in the middle of it all because my neck was broken. But just as the most moving and beautiful thing was Korpu’s arrival in Nangijala and the moving, playing, happy child going around in the middle of a fairytale-like playground. Death is a heavy and difficult topic even among adults, but does it have to be?
A memorable experience
The child was particularly impressed by Orvar, played by Samuli Pajunen, who emerged in the second half as a hero fighting against the oppressors. He found the fire that took place right at the beginning of the play, in which Joonatan died, frightening. While reading the book, this passage was already discussed a lot, but when the flames were brought so vividly in front of our eyes, reality hit harder. Going to bed was delayed in the evening, because we were still browsing the program in bed and going through it together what we had recently experienced. He did not find the performance scary, but it took some digesting to see his favourite story. Orvari’s picture has already been watched in the script several times.
Since the play is recommended for children over 9 years old, I wondered for a long time whether I should take my own soon-to-be-six-year-old with me. In the end, we ended up going together, because I don’t know anyone else who loves this story as much. The story is also familiar, so the exciting parts didn’t come as a surprise, and she has been used to watching full-length performances for several years. The age recommendation is really only a recommendation, and each parent can consider the suitability of the play for their own child. For my part, I would say that the events themselves are not any wilder than in the others, but the levels of the story may not open up to very young people if the story is not already familiar. The age recommendation should therefore be taken into account.
Director Jakob Höglund has brought Lindgren’s story to the stage as a work that stands on its own two feet, respects the original story and continues it for new generations. To me, at its best, a story represents the words with which it ends: I see the light. It represents hope, comfort, and salvation at the same time. It wraps up all the good things for which to continue your own story.
Go see this performance. It’s an incredibly beautiful experience.
Review in Sara’s home hole.