Scene view: The worse the text, the better "Karl-Bertil Jonsson"



"The Happiness Story of Karl-Bertil Jonsson"

Tage Danielsson. Direction, choreography: Anna Vnuk. Processing and texts: Henrik Dorsin. Production design: Per Ållin. Set Designer: Pelle Magnestam. Composer, organizer: Carl Bagge. Participants: Anton Lundqvist, Peter Dalle, Vanna Rosenberg, Henrik Dorsin, Katrin Sundberg, Andreas Rothlin Svensson, Björn Wikström, Lisa Veronica Andersson, Isabelle Billstein. Captain of the band / piano: Carl Bagge. Orchestra: On "Texas" Johansson, Martin Höper, Per Ekdahl. Stage: Scale Theater. Playback time is about 2 hours.

The joining arm keeps the pot that is cooked in the street door outside. The premiere of the audience brings snuggle, but takes selfies. Scalateater is now a great maze of bars and tables, but the lounge is all right, right on the road.

"The one who is good here is bad," says Henrik Dorsin, a conference of performances and a story of the story. It does not sound like Tage Danielsson, but it still belongs to him in the mild irony that lives in the Christmas movie.

Per Åhlin, the artist and film director, stands for versatile design, and the recognizable pleasure of the audience tells a lot about Swedish "loving goodies". They all saw Karl-Bertil Jonsson and love him.

For revolutionary red The curtain is the streets and houses of Åhlin. The numbers are similar to their cartoons. Peter Dalle as a choleric father is just as limited and annoyed as strange as he can be singing well. Vanna Rosenberg as dear mother Karl Bertil is the entire catalog of outdated women's eyes: a bit of Sickan Carlsson, a small Selma, a small housewife and a stylish school for pretty girls. Desperately suppressed, pretty, sweet and hit the smallest handshake.

Read more: Performance DN Report

Everybody plays many roles and each role has beads of ideological beauty – past-comedy, poverty, fnash romance – playing with well-trained melodies from old Pilsen films (Lorrystilen).

Andreas Rothlin Svensson makes a scary asberous soloist, Katrin Sundberg's horror sister, Björn Wikström, a surprise in the song of Jussi Björling and a beautiful laconian tree.

Most of the portraits are Karl-Bertil Anton Lundqvist, a strange boy with crunchy hairstyles, long hands and feet, and a definitely disturbed glare: not as acrobatically fun as it is, a really moving puppy.

The first ten minutes is weak and banal. Even the crazy original and comic-looking choreographers do not get the right momentum. I remember: This is not a show that should be nice, but Karl-Bertil.

But Carl Bagges takes it jazz musical speed and more complicated lyrics and replicas, the better it will be. It's really funny when the whole concept of all time of good times – Karl-Bertils, Tage Danielsson and now Dorsins – meets the snowy terms of this show, the privileged player position and the wage demands. At that moment the moment rises the scene and spreads the salt. And when Dorsin compares the pay gap between the director and the laborer at the time of Karl-Bertiel (5 times), today (55 times) even the old man can even hear the Scala Sussa deal echoing since the Free Pro Theater lived here.


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