‘My sister’s sister’ shows the continuing grief for a sister who died young

“My mother had three children. Now she has two more”, sings a voice in the dark, whispering and hoarse, in a striking Spinvis pastiche. Then with the light the two children come into view: two sisters who try to summon their sister’s spirit. Koosje, aged one and a half, died seven years earlier.

The scene then switches to the present. The sisters stand between the beach poles by the sea. “Everyone just dies,” says one. She (Ariane Schluter) has lost her husband and she misses him at the craziest moments. The other (Marisa van Eyle) remembers their father’s grief and strange behavior after the death of his child. Schluter has forgotten everything, she says happily. And she switches hard to another subject: dickpics.

In the text Sister of my Sister playwright Peer Wittenbols not only shoots from the present to the past, but also from the tragic and melancholy to the banal and everyday. Hidden pain must bubble up in the evasive behavior, but that only partially succeeds. In the direction of Belle van Heerikhuizen, Schluter is convincingly the down-to-earth widow who uses a cool tone. Van Eyle, the sensitive of the two, does not intervene well with her emotions.

Differences in temperament

Their conversation revolves around the differences in temperament between the two sisters. This provides insight into how differently even close family can experience and process a tragedy. As a child, Van Eyle still worldly blames her sister for not crying so much. Then your grief will disappear and she will no longer have tears as an adult. That seems to have come true.

The two talk about dreams, their mom and dad, share memories and fantasize about their sister and their own end. Perhaps, without realizing it, their often clashing conversation is a form of much-needed therapy and healing. Beautiful is the scene where the two girls find grace in the death of a wounded animal. And it’s funny and loving when her sister makes Van Eyle imitate a monkey. But not everything is touching. The lingering sadness, which must lie under the text, does not want to breathe.

As they get to the point where the memory of their dying sister comes to mind, their arguing screams dissipate the tension. Only when the gritty opening song (by Roald van Oosten) sounds again as a final chord, you notice with some trepidation that those words now carry a lot more weight.

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