Stefan Cheriet Busuttil (right) channelled his anger towards Manuel Cauchi more efficiently when he was confronted by Amanda Conroy’s cool and calculating exterior. Photo: Darrin Zammit Lupi

Theatre
Festen
Blue Box at M-Space

What happens when long-repressed emotions come pouring back forth? When one has to confront the loss of a loved one in her physical death while sharing her deadened emotional state?

Thomas Vinterberg, Mogens Rukov and Bo Hr. Hansen’s Festen, adapted for the stage from their original 1998 film by David Eldridge, explores just this, as well as the consequences of denial and suppression within a privileged family circle. It was the production of choice for Masquerade to launch their Blue Box theatre space at M-Space, their premises in Msida, last weekend.

Tensions and sibling rivalry are evident from the onset of the piece, which takes place in a mansion in the Danish countryside. As family and friends gather for Helge’s (Manuel Cauchi) birthday, the family is still grieving the death by suicide of elder daughter Linda.

The guests’ reaction is what came across as most shocking

Her twin brother, Christian (Steffan Cheriet Busuttil), is understandably the most distraught by her loss but seems to be grieving in the most dignified and reserved of manners.

On the surface, he appears to be the more dutiful elder son, especially when contrasted with his fun-loving and well-travelled younger sister Helene (Elektra Anastasi) and his brash and boorish younger brother Michael (Andre Agius).

The latter turns up uninvited for his father’s birthday party and is enraged to find that he is neither wanted nor catered for.

He imperiously dominates his wife Mette (Bettina Paris) and orders her about in the most mysognistic of ways, while being loving but strict with his young daughter (Chloe Portelli).

His uncouth ways take a visibly racist turn much later on in the play when Helene’s new boyfriend, Gbatokai (Francis Nwobodo), turns up.

One would think that it is Michael who would be the one to stir up trouble, but the reality is that his brash and outward belligerence are to be outdone by Christian’s more destructive rebellion at dinner that evening.

In a supposed birthday speech for his father, Christian tells those gathered at the very formal event that he has prepared two speeches and asks his father to choose one.

Helge chooses what Christian defines to be the ‘Truth Speech’ and proceeds to passive-aggressively call his father an incestuous paedophile who defiled him and his sister Linda as children.

The guests’ reaction is what came across as most shocking. I must admit that the scripting took me aback in terms of how this news was received, processed, internalised and suppressed throughout a multi-course meal, as Christian kept bringing it up and getting increasingly upset by it. Upon later analysis, this is very similar to the manner in which unspeakable deeds are swept under the carpet and ignored.

Director Stephen Oliver reined in the actors’ emotional response to such sexually violent and abhorrent behaviour and allowed Cheriet Busuttil to channel his anger more efficiently when he was confronted by his mother’s cool and calculating exterior.

Amanda Conroy played Else, the mother who is in complete denial and came across as deliberately unfeeling and aloof, rather like a benevolent but distant headmis­tress. Her reactions were mirrored by John Marinelli’s Helmut, the estate administrator and Erin Stuart Palmier’s Poul – who are incredulous and supportive of Helge almost till the end and feel incredibly uncomfortable afterwards.

Their behaviour was almost farcical when juxtaposed with the serious accusations made by Christian, and coupled with Colin Willis’s grandfather, who is clearly suffering from dementia and whose injections of supposed comic relief served to make the situation all the more poignant.

Only the servants seem to believe Christian and support him, with Tina Rizzo’s maid, Pia, attempting to seduce him while clearly supporting his cause, as does Kim, the chef (Antonio Rocco) who clearly states that as childhood friends, he knew what Christian and Linda were being subjected to.

Victor Debono is Lars the butler. He is enigmatic and willing to help both Christian, with some persuasion from the others, and Helene – in fact it is these two who discover Linda’s suicide note, tucked into the chandelier in her room.

In an experiment of great staging which worked incredibly well, director Stephen Oliver managed to marshal three separate couples’ interactions simultaneously on one large bed, as the individual scenes unfolded in supposedly separate bedrooms.

These separate interactions showcased some of the cast members’ adaptability incredibly well, with Rizzo’s flirty but sympathetic Pia balancing her dual role as friend and confidante as well as unrequited lover (Christian has problems creating and maintaining affective relationships in adulthood, quite typical for a man sexually abused in childhood).

Anastasi plays it insightful and persistent and is the most well-adjusted sibling who teams up with Lars to investigate her sister’s room, while Debono’s subtle animosity exposed a rebellious streak.

Paris’s Mette held her own against her domineering husband Michael. Agius was rather young to be cast in his role but held his own nonetheless, coming across as the forceful and obnoxious angry young man that he is, in his chase and confrontation with his brother and his altercation with Nwobodo’s rather overly soft-spoken character.

The struggle for truth and power between father and son in Helge and Christian’s stand-off scene expressed the ambiguity of the situation and perhaps presented the audience with the same dilemma which other characters in the play were faced with – who to believe?

The accusations of a son, who according to his highly respected father, was a difficult, psychologically troubled boy, or the son’s plea, corroborated by his dead sister’s suicide note?

Cauchi’s tenebrous character maintained the aura of ambiguity till the end and gave a subtly nuanced performance which supported the other cast members’ various states of emotional numbness or inertia.

Festen was certainly a good choice of drama to open such an adaptable performance space with, making for a disturbing, yet thought-provoking evening out.