of Marcel Prousts ”In search of the time that the move” may seem like hubris in its purest form. Not only do the seven bands can accommodate over 4000 known svårsammanfattade pages, marked by an almost manic beskrivningsiver. Nothing happens. A missed goodnight kiss here, a childhood memory evoked by a pastry there, and there between them a heck of a lot of salongsskvaller which can hardly be considered purfärskt.
Still manages to Maja Salomonsson and Nina Jeppsson, who has directed and written the script, create clean scenmagi.
They choose and keeps through Prousts romansidor with an ease and sensitivity that is rooted in a with a favourable approach of the unfinished and circular. Nina Jeppsson, which is also in front of the almost three-hour long monologue, is born out of the scengolvets trap door. A bar body that stumble into the story and Orionteaterns spacious, stripped-down venues. The fund has modernitetssymbolerna been compressed to a machine of the handsets and the gear. In the ceiling hangs a florstunt fabric like a cloud over the Jeppssons figure, sometimes transformed into a projection screen and – when känslostormarna reaches its crescendo – a pounding heart.
the world of sinnlighetsöverflöd that we associate with Proust in Kent olofsson's sound design. Based in a vattenplask he creates a universe of sounds where barndomsminnet reaches new naturlyriska levels.
Nina Jeppsson is doing a sterling performance. With equal parts fascination as sad mood, she lets her narrator interact with the rest of the rollgalleriets mixture of societetscyniker and beloved, convincing illustrations of everything from a skuggteatergös to a plastblombukett. Throughout her revelation leads to a hypersensitivity that puts her in direct connection with Proust himself. And by extension, with us. For it is in the imparting of and påminnandet if it is sensible, as the show and its förlagas eternal relevance is.
Read more reviews by Anna Håkansson here.