Review: Myrskyluodon Maija

Helsinki City Theatre’s Maija of Myrskyluoto is a powerful tribute to the tenacity of a Finnish woman

It actually sounds self-evident that the opening performance of the Helsinki City Theatre on the big stage after the major renovation in the year of the centenary of our country’s independence is the premiere of a Finnish musical. When you think about it a little more closely, it’s not that common at all, but rather a case with a capital T.

In the fifty-year-old history of the fifty-year-old City Theatre, there has only been one full-scale musical based on the original Finnish theme and carried out entirely by Finnish forces, “Härmäläiset”, which was produced in 1979.

This alone makes the musical “Maija of Myrskyluoto”, which premiered last Thursday, unique. There are many other reasons, not the least of which is the music composed by Lasse Mårtenson.

I believe that most of the adult population in our country is familiar with the theme music of the TV series Myrskyluodon Maija, which dates back to at least the 1970s. A lot of people have also seen this beloved series, either back in the day or when it was rerun a couple of years ago. And the number of people who have read the Åland writer Anni Blomqvist’s (1909-1990) series Myrskyluoto, based on her own and her family’s life, on which the TV series and musical are based, is not small either.

I’m one of those people who haven’t watched a TV series or read Blomqvist’s books. I did know the theme music and knew on the surface what it was about. So my attitude was quite open and free of preconceived expectations when I went to see Maija from Myrskyluoto. Of course, I was expecting a top-notch performance from a theatre that has looked great in the field of musicals many times over.

Strong emotions, lasting love

And I wasn’t disappointed. As a performance, Maija from Myrskyluoto is just as wonderful as I expected. It is powerful, touching and beautiful. But it is also heavy, melancholic and full of pain, even though there is no sadness in either the script or the direction. And the dramatizer Seppo Parkkinen and director Kari Rentola can’t really do anything about it. The conditions in the 19th century Åland archipelago community were harsh and Maija’s life was full of tragic events. Both things are emphasized when the most significant moments of an entire life must be condensed on stage and both Maija’s growth as a person and her and Janne’s deep love must be brought to the fore.

Parkkinen’s short and fast, sometimes even flash-like scenes work. They keep the performance moving, and the turnover brings lightness to the whole. Rentola’s steering approach is both airy and precise. Emotions are given space and issues that are important in terms of human image are brought up, but they are not left to lie down. The dialogue with close-ups and full-length shots is smooth and rhythmically smooth.

In the outer archipelago, nature, and especially the sea, is concretely always present. It is a power that must be taken into account at all times. On stage, nature was represented above all by the dancers, the people they embodied, the spirits of nature. Jyrki Karttunen’s choreography, based on the movement language of contemporary dance, worked excellently in this task.

In general, I liked the dance part and treatment in the performance. The dance was not separate and separate spectacular numbers, but movement was organically woven into the narrative. The dance group also brought to the performance, in addition to all the basic roots, lighter energy and even humour, which is vital for it.

Moments of joy and fun were otherwise almost short in the performance. This does not mean pessimism, the basic approach of the interpretation was positive about life and emphasized love, perseverance and faith in one’s own self. But we were moving very close to the edge of gloom all the time.

This is also the case visually. Katariina Kirjavainen’s referential set design and Riitta Anttonen-Palo’s suitably contemporary costumes were more dark than light, with many shades of brown, grey and dark blue. Beautiful, unassuming and very harmonious. So very Finnish.

The power of music

Above all, however, was the music. Both in compositions, arrangements and performances. Arttu Takalo had made stunning arrangements of Mårtenson’s beautiful and emotional compositions. The almost grandiose and dramatic scenes smoothly turned into extremely sensitive and touching moments. Both the sound of the orchestra led by Eeva Konnu and the singing of all the performers were pleasing to the ear. And the lyrics written by Maija Vilkkumaa fit into the songs as if they had been written in the first place. The performance as a whole was a real musical triumph.

The main couple of Maija of Myrskyluoto, Maija Loviisa Mickelintytäri and Janne Eerikinpoika, were played by Laura Alajääski and Aaro Wichmann. Both of them did a wonderful and touching role.

Janne was at the same time a sensitive, but confident man of his strength, who even had radical opinions about his studies, among other things. During the performance, Maija grew handsomely from a young insecure girl to a self-aware and self-respecting woman. The price of growth was also visible. Maija was a whole person, not just the heroine of the performance.

The rest of the ensemble, including the child actors, also did an uncompromising job. Everyone was sensitively and consciously present both in their role and on stage.

The City Theatre’s Maija of Myrskyluoto is without a doubt one of the events of this theatre autumn. It is also a very Finnish work, for better or for worse, and I would not recommend it as a light Christmas party performance, but as a full-fledged theatrical experience.