Review: Päiväni murmelina

Theatre review: My day as a groundhog makes me dizzy like a merry-go-round and fits perfectly with the strange way of life during the coronavirus autumn

The songs of the Helsinki City Theatre’s musical don’t stick in your head, but you can’t help but get excited when watching the dance scenes.

The alarm clock comes to life at exactly six o’clock and the overly cheerful sounds of the radio’s morning show echo the good news of Groundhog Day. Weatherman Phil Connors (Lari Halme), on the other hand, is not happy. He hates the small cottage village where he has had to report the groundhog’s spring forecast.

The alarm clock comes to life at exactly six o’clock and the overly cheerful sounds of the radio’s morning show echo the good news of Groundhog Day.

The alarm clock comes to life at exactly six o’clock.

To his horror, Phil Connors finds himself living Groundhog Day over and over again, over and over again. There’s no way to get out of the eternal rerun, even though Phil really tries. What can you do when the day always dawns at the same time and your actions have no consequences?

Helsinki City Theatre’s autumn musical is My Day as a Groundhog. The story as a film is dizzying like a carousel in a theatrical version and thrown in all directions like a New Year’s fireworks display. The songs in the musical are not very catchy, but there are such wide smiles and lively dance performances on stage that the joy spreads to the audience.

The atmosphere of My Day as a Groundhog is perfect for this special autumn. Similar to the days that follow each other and the abandonment of the old rules in the midst of the new, bizarre everyday life, you can easily identify with sitting in the stands with a mask on your face.

The actors also seem to exude a very special joy and energy. This is no wonder, after all, the theatre halls were empty for an exceptionally large number of months. My Day as a Groundhog shows that theatre is definitely the best when enjoyed on site. This saturation of colour and the humour created by repetition could not be experienced as strongly remotely.