Comedian Jonathan Young has once said that the worst thing to have children is that the way out will disappear as options – you no longer have the right to take the life of themselves. This macabre logic is also of housewife Carol, when we meet her in the stifling 60's as one of three protagonists in Alice Birch's family drama ”A suicidal anatomy”.
by Sandra Stojiljkovic, looks like a movie star, smoke by life, and cut up wrists while the faucet is on in the bathroom. On the way home from the hospital, she asks if the excuse for it was so messy at home, with all the water. She is a kind of archetypal relative to the depressed housewife Laura in Michael Cunningham's ”the Hours”, and there are scenes where we seriously think that she should disappear down under the water in their own home. The little child is fiskekroken that rips and pulls in the modern then she would sink to the depths, and it may she does not. Not yet.
”A suicidal anatomy”, that will Premiere at the Malmö city theatre, directed by Suzanne Osten, is just as the title promises a study of the great darkness, the mechanisms of a human being and what it does with those who will come after her. Of course, the daughter of Anna – fragile and loaded in Karin Lithmans figure – so damaged that she is doomed to repeat her mother's early death. And in the evening's most striking scene is the next-generation Bonnie (Monica Wilderoth) of a physician and require to get sterilised. She needs to know, purely biological, that the curse stops with her.Jörgen Düberg, Karin Lithman, Sonia Haga and Monica Wilderoth in ”A suicidal anatomy”. Foto: Emmalisa Pauly
suicide and the psychosocial legacy closest to the fated power get to control the story in such a high degree that the drama was solidifying in his thesis. That play looked is ”A suicidal anatomy” also symmetrical and välkomponerat in a way that becomes predictable, despite the fact that Birch actually handles the darkest of subjects with a kind of fun charm.
And to the performing arts is something more than the written drama is almost always true when Suzanne Osten directs, not least in this set. Cross-replicas where generations meet through a variety of tidslager create a rhythmic polyphony, and the audience is forced to surrender before the feeling of missing something crucial that takes place outside the immediate field of vision. The fragmentation of the alarm on the scene is intensely dramatic and at the same time nerve-racking in a very literal way – it goes me on the nerves, in a non-intrusive, and the physical manifestation of an inner turmoil and a pain that does not rest.