Review: Stalinin suloinen ruoska
The surveillance comedy bites with its witticisms and tough playersThe Zhdanov Commission’s banquet at the Tower was hard and damp.
I admit: when I went to the theatre, I was a little sceptical about the idea that Andrei Zhdanov, the notorious head of the Control Commission established after the Continuation War, and his Soviet regime could be turned into a very hilarious comedy. Not to mention intelligent.
My head has now been turned. Written and directed by Kari Heiskanen, Stalin’s Sweet Whip is a funny comedy that is the most intelligent in its political witticism. Although at first it looked and sounded like the fun was mainly detached from the central character’s blunt use of language and obscene metaphors about Finns and Helsinki, the text takes on a satirical level as the performance progresses. It grows into a power game played by skilled fighters, where opportunism, tactical concessions and attacks, as well as carefree pulls and trips, are part of the basic tactical equipment.
Vodka and cigars are consumed, and there is no shortage of women near the Torni Commission office.
Over the past decade and a half, there have been quite a few performances on the stages of the Helsinki City Theatre that shed light on our recent political past. Both successful (such as Troikka and Mole, adapted from Jari Tervo’s historical fictions) and worse ones (Comrade K, The Troublemaker of the Realm). Kari Heiskanen has been involved in many of the best.
Juha Vakkuri’s Mannerheim and the German Kiss (2017), which reversed Finland’s commitment to Germany during the Continuation War, and Kekkonen and the Kremlin Dance School (2018), written by Heiskanen himself, set during the note crisis, form a trilogy with Stalin’s sweet whip, which could probably be called a trilogy. They are tied together not only by the subject matter, but also by director Heiskanen and his not-so-wrinkled style of putting quite delicate subjects on stage in ancient times – that is, when the Soviet Union was still standing.
Stalin’s Sweet Whip is basically the most comedic of the trio, which is why it has been categorized as a “hangman’s comedy” in the theatre’s marketing. That’s what it is, laughing with things that were quite far from being played about 75 years ago. That is, from the time when Finland begins to try to recover from a lost war, former comrades-in-arms must be evicted from Lapland by order of the victorious Soviet Union, full war reparations freight trains start rolling towards the east, domestic political trends turn from right to left. When you add to that the Control Commission and Andrei Zhdanov, a member of Stalin’s inner circle, to lead it, it is no wonder that these times are being called the years of danger.
In Heiskanen’s play, the question of war criminals begins to arise after the warm-ups, i.e. a quick survey of Finland’s political-economic situation and mental atmosphere. Zhdanov wants the play, in order to get back to the warmest sunshine of Father Sunny, a lot of guilty people and the harshest possible sentences for them in the show trial.
On stage, the main question is whether to hang or shoot the war villains. The number one Finnish players are Prime Minister Paasikivi and Minister of Justice Kekkonen, whose strategic precocity (after all, he was only a little over forty at the time, i.e. a junior in world politics) is one of the delicacies of Heiskanen’s play.
Burning questions also include the influence of the Soviet Union in Finland’s red-coloured domestic politics and Mannerheim’s position on the chessboard of history. Hertta Kuusinen and Yrjö Leino play their own games with Zhdanov, and the latter in turn tries to break Mannerheim’s aristocratic shield. Marski will not be seen on stage as a live character, but Joachim Wigelius will play the role in a black-and-white video.
Electronic footage has not usually been the most characteristic tool in Heiskanen’s directions, but now it works stylishly as an epochal element, as do the archive films that can be rotated on the screen.
There is something quite Molièrean in the basic settings of Heiskanen’s comedy. The not-so-clever but short-tempered and straightforward central characters of the French master’s favourite comedies, these ar-gans, harpagons, orgons and why not donjuans, are condensed into one in Zhdanov’s character. His cunning political advisor Pavel Orlov (a real person himself, later e.g. the Soviet ambassador in Helsinki) is the basic character of Molière’s farces to Sganarelle, who with his cunning saves his master from trouble and plays himself into good positions. It may not be a coincidence that both Heiskanen and Jari Pehkonen, who plays the role of Orlov, have both been able to shine in the role of Don Juan. Pehkonen, down to his facial expressions and body language, is so full of sganarelle that he does good.
Sixten Lundberg, who plays Zhdanov, still had some work to do with the lines at the time of the premiere, which is understandable on the other hand, because as a Finland-Swede, he was working on his second Finnish song. By the time you read this, those problems have probably already disappeared. Otherwise, his Zhdanov was in a functional relationship clumsy, furious and rudely hilarious – it’s always a strong combination. Pekka Huotari as the amazing-looking Paasikivi (the hedgehog hair does it!) and Merja Larivaara as Hertta Kuusinen also play excellent supporting roles. The role of the future statesman is also well considered; Petja Lähde thus joins the steadily growing cast of Kekkonen actors.