Julia Cæsar – The Gunpowder Plot Who Conquered the Boulevard Theatre in 1954
Imagine an evening in Stockholm in 1954. The air is crisp, the city lights are sparkling and expectations are vibrating at the Boulevard Theatre on Ringvägen. The audience is packed into the hall, laughter echoes even before the curtain rises, and at the center of it all stands her – Julia Maria Vilhelmina Cæsar, the inimitable actress who, with her sharp tongue and twinkle in her eye, could make an entire theater burst with laughter. At 69 years old, she is an institution, a popular hottie who both directors and audiences love for her ability to transform every role into a show of comic timing and straightforward charm.
Julia Cæsar, born in 1885 in Östermalm in Stockholm, was not one to be born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Her childhood was tough – her mother died when she was seven, her siblings passed away young, and her father, a sergeant in the Svea Life Guards, left her to fend for herself early. But Julia had a fire inside her. Even as a child, she ran errands for actors and snuck around behind the scenes at Stockholm's theaters. At the age of 18, she was an extra at the old Folkteatern, and in 1905 she made her stage debut as the deaf centenarian "Dövnickan" at the Kristallsalongen. There, somewhere, began the story of Julia – the woman who would become Sweden's bush queen and one of the country's most productive actresses with over 140 film roles and countless theater productions.
In 1954, Julia Cæsar is at her best at the Boulevard Theatre. The theatre, known for its light-hearted revues and plays, is as cut and ready for her talent. This particular year she is taking part in a series of performances that make the audience cheer. The Boulevard Theatre is one of Stockholm's stages where Julia thrives like a fish in water. Here she finds an outlet for her ability to portray angry but kind-hearted old ladies – roles she has honed to perfection. With her clear, carrying voice and straight back, she fills the stage, and her lines, often laced with a dose of humour and irony, always hit the mark. Directors love her. As Ragnar Frisk once said: "When Julia showed up, it was just a matter of time – she had the whole script in her head."
One special evening at the Boulevard Theatre in 1954, a revue premiered in which Julia played an angry doorkeeper who, with her sharp tongue, put both neighbors and tenants in their place. The audience roared with laughter when she stormed onto the stage, with her apron on a slant and a rolling pin in her hand, and delivered a monologue that was equal parts biting and heartfelt. It was classic Julia Cæsar – she took a stereotypical role and gave it life, warmth and a touch of self-distancing. Her ability to balance the burlesque with the human is what made her so beloved. After the performance, she is said to have invited the theatre ensemble to coffee and cognac at her apartment, where, according to her friend Hans Rydell, she always served hearty home-cooked food and made sure everyone felt at home.
But Julia was not just a queen of the stage. She was a chameleon who moved between the underdog and heavier roles. In the 1920s, she gave a celebrated interpretation of Madam Flod in Strindberg's Hemsöborna, and she even worked with Ingmar Bergman in films such as It's Raining on Our Love (1946). Yet it was in the plays, on stages such as Boulevard Theatre and Tantolunden's open-air theatre, that she became beloved by the people. She was called "The Queen of Tantolunden" for her summers there, where she drowned out both trains and wind with her voice.
1954 is also a year when Julia's film career is in full swing. She has already appeared in classics such as Pensionat Paradiset (1937), where her role as the pensioner's manager became so iconic that it helped coin the term "pilsner film". But the theatre, and especially the Boulevard Theatre, is her home. Here she can improvise, feel the pulse of the audience and deliver those lines that make people laugh until tears flow.
Julia Cæsar continued to captivate audiences well into the 1960s. At 82, she reached the Svensktoppen with the song Annie från Amörka, sung with a primal power that made the transistor radio shake. When she passed away in 1971, at the age of 86, she left behind a legacy that still lives on – a reminder that humor, warmth and a touch of meanness can make an actress immortal.
So next time you pass by Ringvägen 125, take a look at where the Boulevard Theatre once stood. Maybe you can still hear the echo of Julia Caesar's laughter and her voice shouting: "Now you guys have to sharpen your wits!"