"To participate in the production of Kristina from Duvemåla has been quite honestly one of the most enjoyable projects I've been involved with. I seriously embraced it first in 1994, and in the beginning, of course, we tangled with each other's ideas, Björn and Benny and me. They're a duo and have been for some time, I was new on the team. A trio is something completely different. There's a degree of respect one has. It felt, right away, like we had something to share with each other, but it took time to reach a constructive level without being awestruck.
"It wasn't until that point were we able to surprise each other. And then it really started to flow. Benny would play a little tune which would suddenly create an opening, and then Björn would write a text which was so damn good, then I would come up with a theatrical solution which up to that point hadn't existed. Just traveling around Sweden together to nibble away at all the auditions was a fantastic experience. We were in complete agreement that we would search for the most convincing, the best person for the role, who possessed the qualities of the character we wanted them to portray. Never a word about needing to have a big name star to attract the public, nothing like that which otherwise always comes up. We were simply looking for those who we thought would best fit the role.
"A collaboration which functions the way it did between the three of us, well that is when it works best. We explore ideas together, then we retire to pause and reflect, then we complete it by returning to work it out together.
"I had no previous connection to Vilhelm Moberg's text. As a teenager, I read a fair amount of plays, it's possible I stumbled upon some of his, but if that was the case nothing left any lasting impression. My background is exclusively from the theater. I began as an eleven year old boy singing at the Royal Opera House, then when I was sixteen I finished school and devoted myself to theater. That's how I got here.
"I read The Emigrants quite a bit after that. When I reread the novels recently, in preparation for the work with Duvemåla, I was knocked off my feet. Partly it was the feeling of it being like a documentary, one actually believes that these people existed. And partly because of the paradox that despite the fictional nature of the books the characters themselves carry such a grand story. I did not recall, from my original readings, that the saga treated existential questions such as life and children, love and death in such a focused manner. This wasn't just a drama in a pastoral setting. It was a work of Moberg, with the aid of his words, which exhibits his skills not only as an author but a painter and a dramatist as well. He is an artist capable of accessing many dimensions.
"Naturally, I was struck by the language of the books. I was consciously reading knowing that the story was to become musical theater, and Moberg has such a musical way of writing. He draws one into the story through reiteration and employing dialect and diction. Then breaks from his own rhythm by sprinkling in purely factual terms. This constant variability in language and metaphor grasps the reader and encourages him to keep the pages turning. The story effectively unfolds and one barely distinguishes the craftsmanship behind it.
"When I entered the project with Duvemåla there was already a script and some completed songs, too. But that which was lacking was the flow of the material. A certain frame which Moberg created with his variable language and which supports and carries his story. That was missing in the show. It was that supporting foundation which we produced together, Björn and Benny and me."
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