A show minimalist, and somewhat sheepish

Photo: Postimees.ee

I wouldn’t presume to know the feelings of presidential guests while following Estonian Republic’s birthday concert on the spot – not detecting dressed-up countenances overly soulful, though – but at home, at the TV set, the wow never came.

The start seemed to hold the promise of something grand and lofty to come – Mattiisen’s Passion, on organ (!), but then things went down the Viljandi Folk Festival path.

In half an hour, who could whip up an atmosphere? Still, the brisk waltz called Swamp, written by Jäääär, had a go at that, supported by brass band. Estonian Folk Orchestra (EFO), as such, is a dignified doer of local folk tunes; here, they fell to the background bunch status. For the very reason of the distracting/destructive video clips on ordinary Estonians, watching the concert on TV.

Not long ago, the presidential speech had admonished Estonians to see to their health; in the video, however, we beheld (hopefully root) beer in sauna, sipped by sweating fat-bodied big boys; in the homes, folks raised glasses to toast the Republic. Gluttony and drinking, one gets the impression.  

Poem by Hando Runnel, Ei mullast, kicks off by runic song. Gets depressing. Imeline maailm – A Wonderful World – tries, perhaps intentionally, to contrast the home video eat-and-drink thing.

Silver Sepp tries to get the audience to Hum Along, to Estonia. Didn’t work. The poetic meditations by the shy and sheepish Kristiina Ehin did, indeed, paint the picture of the Estonian – a breed from the groundwaters, timid yet deep.

And then the EFO Anthem, and for its backdrop – or the other way round, the after-party-empty tables in homes, the void hall, (in a gym, still some muscle guys relaxing...) a lone horse on the hippodrome. The End! No, not yet. We’ll still have My Fatherland is My Love. The TV screen is merciless: a feelingless finale. Though it ought to be mighty, to raise the roof.

So we’ve seen it now. Compared to Elmo Nüganen’s concert show of last year, this was a collection of fragments. Postmodernist Estonia – some younger critics would surely say.

Me, an old-time modernist, sitting at the TV, was expecting a narrative rather grand, lofty, compact. Into half an hour, one might squeeze some literature, some flash firework scenes, build up to something to a cut to the heart! But, probably, no intent this time to shake the public. Thought that does happen, at Viljandi Folk. Within the walls of the hall, sheepishness prevailed.