Dinner Theatre

Chapter 28 of Search For a Dancer, a memoir of a week spent in Iceland in November 2022

Tonight’s play was the musical Sem Á Himni, originally a Swedish stage production and then a film. It is the story of a conductor who has a heart attack (on stage!) and then returns to his home town to recover. There he helps out with a struggling choir and in the process everyone grows, learns, and is fulfilled. It was written as a crowd-pleaser with character stereotypes aplenty. The drama is supplied by themes of spousal abuse and small-town politics presented in almost in a check-list fashion :



Overall I found it to be well sung, but with stilted staging, especially compared to the two previous plays I had seen. I had heard from a couple of people that the casting of the play was controversial in that one of the characters was a special needs man who was portrayed by a ‘norm’, with no other actors even considered. I could see both sides of the argument; the role was pivotal and needed an accomplished singer and actor to fill it, but they could have at least reached out for someone with that background. I imagine there was someone in the tight-knit Icelandic theatre community that should have been given a chance—otherwise there wouldn’t have been such a fuss.

Before the show, there was a man experiencing a coughing fit a few rows behind me. In the age of Covid that was unsettling and I hadn’t brought a mask. I thought about getting up, but then the man quieted down (or maybe he left.) My decision to stay would come back to haunt me later.

I had read in Silja’s review that the big production number (at the end of the first act) was so good that the rest of the play suffered in comparison. If that was the play’s high point (and it was impressive) I didn’t want to see any more. I left at the intermission.

At Gamla Bíó, Axel Flovent was emoing songs of despair and unfulfilled desire. After the sugary sweetness of Sem, the vinegar of Axel should have been a tonic, but I found his sturm und drang to be unbearable. Any more of that and my night was looking to be a washout. After a couple of songs I made my escape—perhaps my luck would change.


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