Review: Sörjen som blev

The father never asked why his mother left him in Sweden, but his daughter dares to do so.

With a few pieces of wood, some chalk and a blackboard, Anna Takanen depicts her family’s history. The clumps become babies, the two splendid boys Timo and Leevi , who are born close to each other. When four pieces fall, the family is torn apart – father is killed in the Continuation War and little sick Timo is sent off as a war child to Sweden. On the board, she draws the new constellation that emerges with two families in two countries – on one side of the Baltic Sea, the Swedish foster family, on the other, the amputated family of Finnish origin.

This is not the first time that Swedish actor and director Anna Takanen’s family story has been portrayed on a Finnish stage – in 2015, the major Swedish-Finnish collaboration Fatherland was performed at the Swedish Theatre. But it is clear that this story requires more intimacy, it became obvious to me a few weeks ago when I read her book on the subject Grief that became from 2019. And now that the book is being turned into theatre, the intimate monologue at Lilla Teatern, directed by Mikaela Hasán , definitely feels like the right format.

Poverty and pneumonia

The strength of Anna Takanen’s story is the nuances. Mother Saara both wants to and does not want to bring her son home from Sweden after the end of the war. The motive for the latter is also understandable – the war ends but not the merciless poverty. It is concrete, inevitable, as is the double-sided pneumonia that originally prompts her to send one of her children away. In Sweden, there is healthcare, nutrition, antibiotics.

In Finland, it is not at all uncommon to have war children in the family, but in Sweden these stories are still rarer. The most interesting thing about Takanen’s testimony is the in-between relationship experienced by the father and partly inherited by the daughter. Timo has two homes and nothing, he is Swedish and Finnish and neither. His Finland symbolizes idyll and betrayal, as does his mother, Saara. He never dares to ask her why she didn’t take him home, but his daughter, Anna Takanen, dares to ask the questions straight out on stage.

For those who have read the book, the content of the monologue will inevitably be a repetition. The book contains more nuances, destinies and stories and is also the greater experience. The benefit of the performance is clearly Anna Takanen herself, her charisma, humour and the fact that she performs with her own story. The pain, the tears and the memories are true.

One dimension that comes out better on stage, however, is the fascinating linguistic identity that arises when homes exist in two countries as well as in two languages. The family creates its own hybrid language to communicate with each other. This is conveyed in a snappy way through the quarrel between Anna Takanen and her squire, the musician Harri Kuusijärvi , who kindly tries to “help” her with the Finnish pronunciation. In case anyone is wondering, the surname Takanen is pronounced “Täckanen” and thus basta.