During the opening blowjob – before anyone even says a word in the concrete ghetto—opera is heard. And when Jeppe (Thure Lindhardt), in dramatic fashion, settles accounts at the end during the Royal Couple’s Awards 2025, soprano Lina Valantiejute once again sings Purcell’s Dido’s Lament. Because a lament from around 1688 is about as authentic as it gets. Christian Lollike’s Holberg classic portrays the search for the genuine in a mendacious age. The PTSD-stricken war veteran Jeppe falls into the clutches of the Baron, a contemporary artist who subjects him to an art project – a »mental time journey« meant to transcend/heal him.

Sonically, Lollike is precise. The sounds amplify the reality-show-like ride Jeppe is trapped in: Mozart, Kingo, heavy metal, video-game sounds, hotel ambient music, and Aarhus Theatre’s Choir singing »I Danmark er jeg født« with emotions worn on their sleeves. The country songs in the final part of the play – set in a Western town in the 19th century – lend weight to the story of loser Jeppe. Lollike knows his reality-TV tricks (camera crews even film Jeppe leaving the theatre and heading to the nearest bar), and in a time when everything chimes and clamours, nothing feels more authentic than a real opera singer on stage and true songs from the prairie sung by genuine people in cowboy gear. It happens right before our eyes, live.

The sound design is sharp, just as in Lollike’s Orfeo (2023), where Monteverdi contributed to the atmosphere of doom. Jeppe on the Mountain is such a high (it also contains a good deal of humour) that one ends up thinking: if I woke up in a golden bed with a crowd of strangers around me, I would love to listen to the same soundtrack as Jeppe.