Review: Morfars mauser
Morfars Mauser, which is about school bullying, is based on the memories of Marcus Rosenlund, who has a background in journalism.
I couldn’t have expected a bullying depiction like Grandpa Mauser from Lilla Teatern. The theatre, which has been renewed in recent years, knows how to surprise. Although, and this must be said at the outset, the performance has its shortcomings, it is nevertheless an exceptionally honest depiction of the bullied boy’s mental landscape.
Marcus Rosenlund’s debut play about school bullying, based on personal memories, is like a Pandora’s box as a text. In the middle of the broadcast, celebrity meteorologist Rolf (Tobias Zilliacus) receives a phone call in which he is given the opportunity to meet his deathbed childhood friend (Markus Riuttu), who was both his best friend and his worst bully.
When the chest of memories opens, there is no going back. The most horrible childhood memories, the darkest fantasies of revenge and all-encompassing hopelessness emerge. Now Rolle could take revenge.
Recently, there have been quite a few novels and theatre performances on the subject of school bullying. Still, after Morfars Mauser, it feels like the symbiotic relationship between the bully and the bullied has been dealt with very little.
The courage to rub a difficult topic in the audience’s face without giving a single moment of rest is convincing. This proposal feels bad. Peeing in a boot, breaking a new telescope and hitting it – all of these are felt by the viewer with every cell of their being.
A big thank you goes to Michaela Granit’s unwavering direction.
As a director, he carefully draws the emotional map that emerges behind what is happening. She is able to grasp the working-class background and the role of grandparents as well as the image of the time without unnecessary explanations.
Heidi Wikari’s functional set design with glasses and reflections makes for a spacious feeling.
The play is strong for a debut play, but the dramaturg should still have been more demanding. The widely used narration makes the performance preachy.
The dramatic scenes could also be stronger. Both in terms of documentary and formal experiments, the play remains half-finished.
The acting is intense and rough throughout. However, Tobias Zilliacus’ acting lacks brokenness. Of course, he also has his strong moments, especially when the intention is to catch a glimpse of a future adult man in the little boy. Zilliacus is tragic, but like a big man, as a ready-made package with a clear identity.
On the other hand, Markus Riuttu, who you see annoyingly little in performances in the Helsinki metropolitan area, is so good at playing a lost on/off friend that it almost hurts.
Her emotional essence stretches from a little tough to a gentle friend in an instant. And the bravura at the end, a drug addict hiding his despair, is much more than a caricature.
Despite its weaknesses , the performance knows how to tighten the atmosphere so that the viewer feels the breakdown of each structure as if inside the mind of a bullied boy.
The performance also takes up a gun, but I don’t think I reveal how and why in the review, nor the story related to Mauser.
Forgiveness and hope can also be found in the pieces of the puzzle of the performance.