2026 is here, and for me it’s off to a strong start, with a promotion to the lofty title of Senior Research Fellow (which I have to say sounds so much more impressive than the Finnish equivalent, “yliopistotutkija” or “university researcher”). Technically I wasn’t in fact promoted but recruited to a new position, and so, amusingly, my first work email of the year was an automated one from the university’s HR information system, welcoming me to my new job and inviting me to start my orientation. Thanks, I guess! On a more serious note, I now have, for the first time in my life, an employment contract without a fixed termination date, which in this line of work is a rare luxury to be cherished like a precious antique or faithful family pet.
So far, my life in 2026 has been, in a sense, quite simple – there’s been no need to wonder what to do with my free time, because I’ve barely had any. In the first two and a half weeks of the year I had exactly five days when I didn’t have to go to the theatre, those five being New Year’s Day, Epiphany and three Sundays. This was all, of course, in preparation for the world premiere of Ovllá, except for one Saturday when we had the last performance of A Christmas Carol. Imagine how weird I felt the day after the opening weekend, when I had just a regular working day at the university without having to go anywhere in the evening!
Besides devoting dozens of hours of my time to the opera, I made a sacrifice of a more personal nature as well: at the insistence of the hair and make-up department, I shaved off my beard and moustache for the first time since I don’t know when. I’m having a hard time recognising my face right now, and I gather I’m not the only one. Everybody tells me I look younger, so it seems that the intended effect has been achieved, but I’m just shocked at the revelation that I apparently don’t have a jawline. Thankfully, the opera has been very well received by critics and audiences alike, which makes the sight of my naked chin more bearable, and as a delightful little bonus, a week before the premiere it was announced that chorus members will be given employment contracts and paid some money for each performance.
What about the opera itself, I hear you say – what happens in it? I’m glad you asked! The title character is a young Sámi man brought up in a boarding school where a Finnish national and cultural identity has been imposed on him, leaving him ashamed of his own culture and estranged from his family. He falls in love with a Sámi woman and bonds with her widowed father, both of whom try to help him reconnect with his roots, but his traumatic childhood won’t stop haunting him and he’s unable to take a decisive step away from what he’s been taught to believe about himself and his place in the world. The ending is bittersweet, with Ovllá separated from his wife and daughter but reunited with his mother.
While the story is fictional, the boarding schools were very much a real thing in postwar Finland and so were the wrongs suffered by Sámi pupils in them, as documented in the final report of the Sámi Truth and Reconciliation Commission in Finland, published about a month before the premiere. The villain roles are therefore reserved for the Finnish characters, particularly the Queen of the Night -esque headmistress and her second-in-command the teacher, who appear in several nightmarish scenes during the second act as Ovllá relives painful memories from his school years. We the chorus are there to back them up like a zombie army, dressed in school uniform and evoking images of Pink Floyd’s The Wall.
Before that, though, in act one we get to play a variety of parts, appearing as a festival crowd at Davvi Šuvva, where Ovllá first meets his beloved Ánná, then as miners at the LKAB iron ore mine in Kiruna, where Ovllá finds employment, and finally as an anthropomorphic representation of nature in Kautokeino, where Ovllá goes to meet Ánná’s father Lemet. My favourite bit is probably the mining scene, where the tenors and basses sing an unabashedly manly song extolling the joys of being a Finnish miner in Sweden while executing a fun choreography with our headlamps, followed by the sopranos and altos whispering off-stage in spooky voices to remind Ovllá of who he really is. However, a strong contender is the dormitory scene in act two and especially the bit just before it, when we are upstage behind a black curtain, waiting to be revealed to the audience, and the music swells in a way that’s nothing short of magical.
This being my second opera, it’s only natural to compare it with my first one, and there are some pretty big and obvious differences. Musically, Ovllá is of course a good deal more modern than The Magic Flute, though still accessible, and the blending of Western classical music with Sámi melodies and vocal styles sets it apart even further. Thematically, The Magic Flute was a lighthearted fairytale, whereas Ovllá tells a much more serious story dealing with sensitive issues and doesn’t hide its scathing criticism of the treatment of the Sámi people and their indigenous culture by the Finnish government and the ethnically Finnish majority population.
I’m reminded of a scene in Dead Poets Society where John Keating, played by the late great Robin Williams, has his students read an essay telling them that they can compare the relative greatness of poems by drawing rectangles whose dimensions are determined by the beauty and importance of the poem and looking at the size of the area they cover. Mr Keating, of course, then immediately goes on to dismiss the idea as “excrement”, but I can’t help thinking that if we were to play along with it and extend it to other forms of art, Ovllá would score quite highly on both axes. It’s not just me either – I’ve heard of various people having been moved to tears by it, and many have praised it for bringing its largely ignored subject to light.
This post turned out to be almost entirely about opera, but I suppose that was to be expected, since apart from the aforementioned promotion, not a whole lot worth reporting has happened in January in my academic life. I’ve been able to get a fair amount of writing done, which is always nice, but other than that, I’ve mainly been doing various things in preparation for more interesting things to come in the future. Particularly interesting is the recruitment of the doctoral researcher who is to be my first one in the role of principal supervisor; I won’t comment of the process, especially since it’s still ongoing, but I will say that the number of applications we received exceeded my expectation by an order of magnitude if not two. I have no idea whether it’s typical for academic positions at this level to attract that many applicants, but my guess would be that without the AI aspect there wouldn’t have been such a flood of applications.
Tonight it’s yet another night at the opera, show number eight of twenty. I can really only speak for myself, but I think by now we’ve settled into a routine where we no longer have to be constantly on our toes to remember our cues, which makes the performances less strenuous but also creates the risk of us getting a bit too comfortable. Especially in the festival scene it’s crucial that we have the energy of a proper festival crowd, so we can’t just be going through the motions, we have to look like we’re having the time of our lives. Keeping up that festival buzz for the remaining thirteen performances might well turn out to be the hardest part of the whole project!