“And the world will surely disappear with me.” at the National Theater does not quite reach the audience – Dagsavisen

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THEATRE

“And the world will surely disappear with me”

by Sibylle Berg, translated by Elisabeth Beanca Halvorsen

Director: Mari V. Kjeldstadli

Scenography and lighting design: Norunn Standal

Costumes: Synne R. Føreland

Musically responsible: Simon Revholt

With: Liv Bernhoft Osa, Marika Enstad, Andrine Sæther, Marte Magnusdotter Solem

Torshovteatret

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Looking back on our own lives is something most of us will do at one or more times. Perhaps it is something that belongs to the last part of life. In Sibylle Berg’s theater text “Og verden svirningner sikter meg”, we witness an elderly woman’s reflection on her own life, after she, disillusioned and furious, has thrown a bomb into a board meeting for what she calls “capitalist, neoliberal idiots ». In her rage at her own failure, she chooses to drag others along with her in the drag of despair. We meet her a little later when she is lying in the hospital, some parts of her body poorer and close to death (perhaps she is already dead), but still full of reflections and strong opinions. We meet a committed main character in this performance. Still, this will never be as engaging theatre.

German-Swiss Sibylle Berg is both an award-winning and highly productive playwright, but is little played in Norway. Only once before has one of Berg’s plays been staged on a Norwegian stage. It was in 2016, when Ine Marie Wilmann did the monologue “And now: The world!” at Oslo Nye Teater. Sibylle Berg’s theater texts are often characterized by polyphony, and this also applies to “And the world will surely disappear with me”. Here there is one woman who is the main character, but she is played by four different actors.

On Torshovteatret’s stage we see Liv Bernhoft Osa, Marika Enstad, Andrine Sæther and Marte M. Solem in the role of the nameless woman. The woman thus looks back on her own life, with which she is consistently very dissatisfied. Not because she has had a miserable life. It just didn’t turn out the way she had thought. She was unable to change the world, as she had once dreamed of. The youth’s activism and idealism were replaced by a permanent job and money for both an apartment and a second home in France. She has tried to live up to society’s image of what constitutes a perfect life, but has obviously lost herself along the way.

It is easy to think of Elfriede Jelinek’s theater texts when you hear this four-part monologue. Sibylle Berg’s text is as wordy and fiery as Jelinek’s texts tend to be. But it is at the same time more tangible, not as characterized by far-reaching philosophical arguments. In this sense, “And the world disappears …” can appeal to a wider audience. On the other hand, this is perhaps a text that ideally hits people with similar experiences to the protagonist himself. I then think of women who have given birth to children, looked after houses, visited old parents, experienced themselves as objects for men, gone from poor to good finances and lived a life of relatively good material standards. Being an aging woman does not follow any standard recipe, and this narrative is guaranteed not to resonate with all women.

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The way the main character portrays the relationship between men and women can also be experienced as very black and white, and we also do not get an answer as to why she abandoned all her own ideals and did what society expected of her. This is a theater text that needs a few boosts and some smart moves to function optimally and thus perhaps reach more people. Director Mari Vatne Kjeldstadli and her artistic team have this time not managed to press all the right buttons to make it happen.

In terms of space, Kjeldstadli and scenographer and lighting designer Norunn Standal have made it difficult for themselves. The round stage room at Torshovteatret is covered with sand-coloured felt, and in the middle of the floor we see a large circular paneling. The plating slowly spins around, and above it hangs a cone-shaped light figure dominated by fluorescent tubes. A sand-colored room does not give much energy, and this room does not invite any major antics either. During the performance, the actors move on and around the platform in various ways while speaking to the audience. That is basically what happens, and the small variations in the use of the room sometimes become boring to look at.

When the actors are also dressed in bright robes for large parts of the performance, the overall impression of the performance becomes rather beige. This is a text that could have endured a visual expression with more life, and there is also a complex main character that could unfold more in the visuals. In this packaging, it is as if the text’s energy is contained more than necessary. However, the four actors on stage deliver the text in a fine way based on the limiting direction. They allow us to take part in the pitch-dark humor that lies there and manage to give an insight into the main character’s commitment. But you want more than just an insight! Here, a fully lived life could really unfold in front of the audience, in all its sadness and with all its in-country problems.

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It can be nice to be reminded not only of how we live our lives, but also how we look at life when we once in a while take a look in the rearview mirror. This reminder “And the world will surely disappear …” at least manages to give us. Perhaps it has become too easy to be dissatisfied with the lives we live. Perhaps we are dissatisfied for no reason at all. Because even the woman in Sibylle Berg’s play has to admit in the end that yes – life wasn’t so bad after all.