THE OTHER SIDE OF HOPE (Toivon tuolla
puolen) B
Finland (101) 2017 d: Aki
Kaurismäki
Kaurismäki’s first film in half a dozen years is a follow-up
to Le
Havre (2011), a major port city in northern France where the Seine
River meets the English Channel, and the first film in his projected Harbor
Trilogy. This new film, winning the Silver Bear at the Berlin Film
Festival for Best Director, takes place in Helsinki, Kaurismäki’s normal
stomping grounds, as evidenced by his earlier film Lights
in the Dusk (Laitakaupungin Valot) (2006), a brilliant comment on
Finnish miserablism and gloom, accentuating the absurdity of the authoritative
no man’s land the Soviets left behind, where the city resembles an industrial
wasteland. A dog bearing the same name appears in each film,
suggesting a kind of continuity. In this trilogy, Kaurismäki
imagines the bleak fate that awaits those refugees arriving with the hope for a
better life, where the Finnish title is better translated as “Beyond Hope,”
which better fits the acerbic tone of the film. While undoubtedly a
comedy, finding humor in the depiction of a perpetual state of mind of Finnish
miserablism, Kaurismäki has found the perfect antidote in Keatonesque deadpan
humor, which is so overly exaggerated that it’s hard not to smile, with characters
that couldn’t be more endearing to the audience, feeling like ordinary folks,
the kinds of people you’d like to go out and have a drink with afterwards, just
to see a more jubilant side of them that’s never presented onscreen, as they
are often used like mannequins in beautifully set-up tableaux
shots. Even the opening credit for Kaurismäki's production company
Sputnik is funny, as it’s a throwback to another age, while the opening
sequence taking place in the dark of night in a shipping harbor turns out to be
a sight gag, yet it introduces us to a man without a country, Khaled (Sherwan
Haji), an undocumented Syrian refugee who has lost his entire family, with the
exception of a sister that he’s lost track of, in a bomb blast that levelled
his family home in Aleppo with his family in it. When a human face
emerges from the darkness, he is covered from head to toe in the black soot
from a pile of coal that kept him hidden, shaking himself off, like a dog
stepping out of water, and simply walking into a new world. The next
sequence is utterly hilarious, entirely wordless, with a woman in curlers
sitting at a table smoking a cigarette with a bottle of vodka and a glass
sitting on the table, while her husband, evidently, hands her his house keys
while also removing his wedding ring and placing that on the table, as the two
take one long last look at one another before he steps out the door with his
packed bag. She throws the keys and the ring in the ashtray and
pours herself another drink. No one does scenes like this as well as
this director, as he squeezes every last ounce of emotion out of it as a rock
‘n’ roll musical soundtrack takes over, where it may as well be an opening
shoot-out in a western where only one of them rides off into the sunset. In
this case, that would be Wikström (Sakari Kuosmanen), a middle-aged
Finnish shirt salesman whose vintage classic car has a trunk filled with
perfectly packaged brand new shirts. Think of this man as the
Finnish Willy Loman from Arthur Miller’s play Death of a Salesman, a
traveling salesman that lives on the road, yet has no children to speak of,
only a dead-end life that offers him little comfort.
Selling his entire inventory to an interested customer,
Wikström abandons his former life for something entirely new, finding his way
into a high stakes poker game and betting it all, where he inconceivably walks
out a winner, paying cash to invest in a reputable restaurant with already
established employees, becoming the boss overnight, but the place is little
more than a dive, certainly less than advertised, where his staff hadn’t been
paid in the last three months by their former boss, last seen quickly heading
for the airport. While heavily stylized, the beauty of the film is
how it’s filled with black market profiteers just trying to make a buck on the
side, as there’s apparently no conventional way to make a living, so they have
to get creative. To this end, a rock ‘n’ roll band plays throughout
in different settings, from a lone guitarist playing on the street to club
settings in dive bars playing before an audience, but in each case the grim
lyrics couldn’t be more dire, including a drunkard singing about his
anticipated demise, as if death is his only friend left in the
world. With a kind of raw, rockabilly sound, juxtaposed against a
giant painting of Jimi Hendrix on the restaurant wall, these songs are
extremely effective, like a singing Greek chorus, as they express the tragic
themes taking place in the film, offering a bleak and fatalistic narrative
throughout. Khaled on the other hand, couldn’t be more sincere, as
he truly believes the world is not a cruel and indifferent place, turning
himself in to the cops while claiming refugee status in Finland, where he is
photographed and fingerprinted, with one telling him “Welcome, you are not the
first,” while the other types out height and weight on an old ancient
typewriter, suggesting not just primitive but archaic methods. Sent
to a welcoming center with other refugees, they await formal hearings to decide
their fates, each commiserating with the other, where they have little to do
other than smoke cigarettes and stare out into the night. Borrowing
a cellphone from one of the residents, there is no word from his sister,
causing him considerable anxiety, as these men have little left to connect to,
as everything in their lives has been taken away, no home, no country, and no
family. Despite the everpresent humor, there is a tragic undertone
of suffering throughout, where the downbeat Finns and the outcast refugees
seeking asylum seem to have much in common, as their plights are similar,
surrounded by bleak and penniless lives, each striving to hold onto what’s left
of their humanity. Enter the Liberation Army of Finland, a neo-Nazi
motorcycle gang, thugs in black leather jackets targeting immigrants with
racist taunts, starting fights over nothing, battering them with kicks and
fists, while enjoying pounding heads onto concrete. This kind of
derelict element terrorizes the defenseless, hoping to drive them out of the
country, all in the name of patriotism. They seem to follow Khaled
wherever he goes, turning up unexpectedly. In one instance, cripples
and street bums rise up to his defense, thwarting an attack by driving the gang
away, suggesting a solidarity among the lowest class, which may, in its own
way, offer a thin strand of hope.
Khaled’s immigration hearing is a farce, with the sovereign
state of Finland declaring conditions in Aleppo are not serious enough to
obtain refugee status, becoming mired in a Kafkaesque delusion, blind to the
conditions that actually do exist, simply ignoring them for their own
convenience, as otherwise they’d actually be called upon to offer help,
preferring to remain callously indifferent. Ordered out of the country
the following morning, he watches a televised newscast of the continual
bombings in Aleppo, including targeted hospitals, pulling dead children out of
the rubble, where it’s hard to believe Europe would collectively start closing
their borders. Khaled defies the deportation order and sneaks away,
finding himself battered and bruised, hiding near the restaurant dumpsters,
where it’s inevitable that these two narratives would eventually intersect,
with Wikström inviting him in for a meal, offering him what little help
he can offer, which includes a place to sleep in a storage area of a parking
garage. The restaurant itself goes through several transformations,
serving perhaps the most revolting food in cinema history, as they try a sushi
concept, but herring is apparently the only fish on hand, or an Indian
restaurant named after Gandhi, but meatballs and sardines out of a can is about
all the cook can offer, where beer is their biggest seller, with the hired
staff eventually wondering why they even offer food at all. Despite
the tragic circumstances affecting refugees in Europe, this is one of the few
films that dares to humanize their character, making them part of the story,
but the systemized rejection is appalling, forcing them to wander the ends of
the earth without a home, where they are treated as
criminals. Kaurismäki bridges the gap with a cute and adorable dog,
the kind that will befriend anyone that treats it nice, which seems to be basic
animal behavior, yet somewhere along the line, warped by hatred and
self-interest, humans lost their ability to reach out and help others in
need. Even in this film, it’s only Khaled, who is nearly destitute
himself, that offers a few coins for the beggars on the street, while the rest
of the population simply ignores them, where they may as well be invisible, as
if they’re not even there. The cast of characters throughout are
typically standouts, initially aloof and stand-offish, yet feeling like
long-lost friends after awhile, where they simply walk to the beat of a
different drum, yet there’s a warmhearted affection on display, even as they
attempt to con the new boss into giving them advance pay, where he himself
doesn’t want to be a bad guy. After all, from the
outset, Wikström is a guy who is defined by not having a friend in the
world, where he’s all alone, embarking on a new adventure, where this eccentric
staff is his real family. There’s a telling scene where some young
computer experts, just teenagers really, have their own electronic fingerprint
machine and can actually produce phony identity cards within minutes, literally
blowing the minds of the old guard, who wouldn’t have a clue how to pull that
off. This kind of home-grown tenderness gives the film needed
warmth, while adding depth to the characters, as all are profoundly alone
trying to make their way through this world, each finding their own
path. While one wants to like this film more, as it has plenty of
heart, yet it’s not the most profound film, but Kaurismäki demonstrates
such a terrific attitude about life in general, where his greatest trait is a
tolerance for others who are different or unconventional, accepting all known
hipsters, misfits, and con artists as members of his universal family.
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