At first, there was Kajaani.
A small place, with 40 000 inhabitants, 600 kilometers of distance from
Helsinki, and a brilliant theatre house. That was where Ella and Aino worked
the whole autumn and winter of 2011. To get there took 6 and a half hours. There
was plenty of time to read books. A lot of them. Ella had got this book as a present, it
was called Fabolous Ella. Ella laughed out loud, and Aino became
interested.
What is it, she asked.
It’s this person, Ella
answered. She’s hilarious. She’s being presented as a misunderstood, adorable
person – although every little thing she does is in a way or another over the
top.
Who is she, Aino asked.
It’s Ella Eronen, Ella
said. The greatest diva of Finnish theatre.
Aino and Ella both read the
book and fell in love with Ella. There was something so amiable about her –
although she was at the same time both irritating and tragic character. She missed
a show at the Finnish National Theatre, claiming her watch had stopped. And she
actually became expelled twice for the same reason: She was on a holiday abroad
and sent a letter to extend the trip. The letter never arrived. Neither of the letters. And after both cases, she was taken back to the theatre. All because she was
Ella, a national icon.
It was a birth of a
performance about two Ellas: One is the greatest diva Finnish theatre history
remembers, and another an unemployed Finnish actor, struggling to find opportunities.
And still, there is so much in common with them. The character. The guts. The
burn and the need for stage. And still:
nowadays, even the immortable Ella is almost forgotten. The work of an actor vanishes
almost immediately. So, what will be left of us, after our decease? What is our
heritage to the world? What is important? Is there something that might live on
of us, even after our death?
