With his theater solo KingCannabis actor Yannick Jozefzoon made an autobiography based on a cannabis addiction. Important figures from the actor’s life pass by in short scenes, a kind of sketches, around a wooden park bench. From the dealer who explains to him as a child that with cannabis you never feel alone again (“a jonko lets you talk to the gods and goddesses within yourself”) to the therapist who has to help him kick the habit. From his grandmother in West Groningen, who noticed a strange, sweet smell among his belongings, to the first photo of the actor with his newborn son.
Jozefzoon has a good ear for dialects. That was noticed earlier in the television film Tom Eaglein which he played a telephone salesman who adapted his accent to the customer, a role that earned Jozefzoon a Golden Calf nomination. Also in KingCannabis the necessary accents are provided; Jamaican, Surinamese, Leiden, West Groningen, Limburgish. It is virtuosic and funny, it gets a good laugh, and at the same time it has something of a diversionary maneuver. ‘Creeping into roles’ suits Jozefzoon so well that you almost lose him among all the impersonations.
Between sludge and coffee filters
Jozefzoon’s love-hate relationship with ‘sativa‘, with cannabis, seems to be largely tilted towards the side of love. The stuff reassures him, stimulates his creativity, feels like support, like company, like a ‘friend’ even – it is an elixir of life. On the other hand, there is dependence, with all its consequences. The scene in which Jozefzoon, a new father, is on his knees in front of the garbage can looking for leftovers of weed among the rubbish and coffee filters is poignant.
The question that vibrates like a keynote throughout the performance, but is perhaps too sensitive to touch directly: why does this man need so much anesthesia? What is going on in that head that needs to be ‘silenced’ if necessary?
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Jozefzoon moves away from that question, which characterizes his character, but which also leaves you somewhat unsatisfied. Jozefzoon remains at a distance, no matter how personal and honest his account is. In the descriptions of the addiction and the portrayal of the characters, it is not always possible to transcend the cliché image.

Yannick Jozefzoon in his performance KingCannabis
Photo Julian Maiwald
That does work when it comes to Jozefson’s father, who suddenly pushes himself forward several times in the story. This father, who lives in Sierra Leone, may have been physically distant in his son’s life, but in this theatrical self-portrait the man – Maroon, taekwondo master – is extremely present. The scene in which Jozefson plays his own father is moving. It turns out that he stutters badly, this superhero.
And so it goes KingCannabisperhaps more than about a cannabis addiction, about fathers and sons. About the hereditary tendency to run from your responsibilities. And about the question of how to be a father – an example, a ‘hero’ – when you freeze in misery every time you come across a mirror.
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