Fallen Leaves (Kuolleet lehdet)

 

Writer/director Aki Kaurismäki

The director with his dogs

The director with his lead actors

The director on the red carpet at Cannes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FALLEN LEAVES (Kuolleet lehdet)          B+                                                                          Finland  Germany  (81 mi)  2023  d: Aki Kaurismäki

I’m imprisioned here forever                                                                                                  Fences surround the graveyard too                                                                                               When my last earthly task is finally done                                                                                      You’ll still dig me deeper into the ground.

—Maustetytöt, Syntynyt Suruun Ja Puettu Pettymyksin (Born Of Sorrow And Clothed With Disappointments)

A throwback to the Aki Kaurismäki of old, this is an exaggerated working class romance fantasy that accentuates “the Finnish reality” of making the best out of a wretchedly miserable situation, a laughable alternative to Candide’s “the best of all possible worlds,” yet both Voltaire and Kaurismäki sympathetically accentuate the best humanist traditions, with Kaurismäki portraying down-on-their-luck individuals driven to outrageous acts by an oppressive society, becoming dark comedies that are characterized by laconic humor, drinking, detached irony, and smoking.  Centered in an industrial section of the Finnish capital of Helsinki, the grimness of his protagonist’s lives are deeply entrenched in a social realist cityscape that offers a dreamlike avenue of escape through a redemptive power of love.  Deeply cynical and darkly comedic, this director makes the most out of so little, where his minimalist style uses succinct and extremely well-chosen staccato language that plays out like a haiku poem, with no rehearsals and usually only one take, evoking the visual precision of Bresson and the gritty tone of Fassbinder.  Pre-occupied with working class loners encumbered by soulless jobs in bleak surroundings, they express a marked disdain for rigid authoritarian rules, where preserving one’s dignity feels paramount, typically finding refuge in dive bars, where drinking is man’s last salvation, viewed as an almost heroic retreat from the blistering conformity of their lives, where rock ‘n’ roll music provides the sardonic tone of absurdity necessary to survive the eternal gloom that permeates such an enveloping wasteland where the future always looks grim.  Premiering at Cannes where it won the Jury Prize (3rd Place), easily the shortest of all the films in competition, while also listed in the Top Ten of Cahiers du Cinéma, Film Comment, IndieWire, Time, Atlantic, Ringer, Slant, and John Waters, Movies - Year-End Lists, it is heralded as the 4th film in his earlier Proletariat Trilogy, SHADOWS IN PARADISE (1986), Ariel (1988), and THE MATCH FACTORY GIRL (1990), though it could just as easily fit into his Helsinki Trilogy, seemingly having more in common with DRIFTING CLOUDS (1996), as it navigates the debilitating despair and insurmountable hopelessness that comes from searching for happiness in low-wage, dead-end jobs that offer no benefits or job security.  Featuring two new actors who have never worked with this director before, they are new faces gracing the screen, yet both exhibit that deadpan comic timing which is an essential component of any Kaurismäki film, where an outlandish Kafkaesque absurdity drives the film with the precision of Samuel Beckett one-liners.  The sometimes shy and other times emboldened Ansa (Alma Pöysti) works a mindlessly repetitive job at a grocery store while the disillusioned yet ever stoic Holappa (Jussi Vatanen) is a construction worker who is seemingly inseparable from a hidden bottle of booze, a predominate theme in Kaurismäki movies, coming from a place where heavy alcohol consumption is such an entrenched part of the culture.  With documentary style precision of their respective workplaces, their dreary lives meet in a karaoke bar, each accompanied by their one and only friend, Liisa (Nuppu Koivu) and Huotari (Janne Hyytiäinen), yet the raw, pulsating rhythm from 1974 - Hurriganes Get On YouTube (3:44) announces that we’re in for a wild ride, as it lures viewers into the mindset, setting the tone for what follows.  You haven’t lived, apparently, until you’ve heard the enduring popularity of Mambo italiano YouTube (2:40) sung in Finnish.

The most-watched domestic film of the year in Finland, a first for this director, part of what makes it so special is the director’s unique ability to capture palpable modern emotions via silence and expressions rather than words, very much resembling silent films, where everyday details register as grand, meaningful cinematic gestures, while his unorthodox, jukebox soundtrack fills the screen with humorous asides that bring irony to the next level.  The maker of La Vie de Bohème (The Bohemian Life) (1992), Lights in the Dusk (Laitakaupungin Valot) (2006), Le Havre (2011), and The Other Side of Hope (Toivon tuolla puolen) (2017), though for my money it’s hard to top Take Care of Your Scarf, Tatjana (Pidä huivista kiinni, Tatjana) (1994), Kaurismäki is a director who takes great pleasure in filming outcasts on the fringe of society, where what stands out in each of his films is the disintegration of the working class and thwarted social advancement, shattering all aspirations for a better life, where exploitation in the workplace is the norm, leaving characters stuck in an indifferent world from which there is no escape.  Gloominess and romance typically do not mix, yet here they merge to a surprisingly comical and heartfelt effect, as both characters clearly have some sort of baggage, yet the film moves along at a snappy pace even with long scenes where the camera barely moves, giving the film a simplicity and lightheartedness which elevates it into a rare form of cinematic treasure that simply can’t be found elsewhere.  Adding to the oppressive tone are the recurring radio broadcasts of the Russian invasion of Ukraine heard on old-school radios in their homes, relying upon news reports by radio instead of television, where the monotonous nature of these messages act as historical time capsules that you immediately want to tune out, reflecting just how ordinary this worldwide calamity has become on the modern landscape, affecting people all over the world.  Let’s not forget Finland is on Russia’s border, where Putin’s troops are never far away.  Triggered by the aggression, Finland joined the NATO military alliance immediately after the invasion, while it’s important to recall that Kaurismäki once boycotted the Oscars in protest of the Iraq war.  Yet, as Susan Sontag suggests in her 2003 book-length essay, REGARDING THE PAIN OF OTHERS Susan Sontag, people can become unresponsive to horror, even though thousands of families have lost their loved ones and their possessions forever.  Making matters worse, both characters keep losing their jobs, which is another everyday reality they have to contend with, where money is scarce, so both keep their emotions tightly in check, never knowing what tomorrow will bring.  Both appear to be diligent workers, hardly the troublemakers they are made out to be by overzealous employers, though drinking while operating heavy machinery does present definite problems, especially when management couldn’t care less about faulty equipment.  What Kaurismäki has done is craft a storyline where, through a series of mishaps, both characters find each other and lose each other and then find each other and lose each other again, both physically and emotionally, where the struggle to stay afloat resembles the sardonic tone of Roy Andersson’s existential parables in his Living Trilogy, SONGS FROM THE SECOND FLOOR (2000), YOU, THE LIVING (2007), and A Pigeon Sat On a Branch Reflecting On Existence (En duva satt på en gren och funderade på tillvaron) (2014), yet also About Endlessness (Om det oändliga) (2019).  Kaurismäki predates Andersson, but both are in the same mold of bone-dry Nordic humor.

Holappa: I’m depressed
Huotari: Why?
Holappa: Because I drink
Huotari: Why do you drink?
Holappa: Because I’m depressed

Their first date is memorable, with Kaurismäki paying homage to his beloved cinema, as there are movie references everywhere you look.  Taking place in a sparsely populated arthouse theater, they attend a screening of Jim Jarmusch’s absurdist apocalyptic zombie movie The Dead Don't Die (2019), where one older patron hilariously explains afterwards that it reminded him of Bresson’s Diary of a Country Priest (Journal d'un curé de campagne) (1951), while another mentioned Godard’s Band of Outsiders (Bande à Part) (1964).  A prominently placed poster for Luchino Visconti’s Rocco and His Brothers (1960) is featured in a bar, while inside the theater posters are seen for Bresson’s L'Argent (1983) and Jean-Pierre Melville’s LE SAMOURAÏ (1967).  Outside the theater we see Finnish movie posters of David Lean’s BRIEF ENCOUNTER (1945), Sam Newfield’s LOST CONTINENT (1951), Godard’s Contempt (Le Mépris) (1963) and Pierrot le Fou (1965), something of a movie lover’s dream, FALLEN LEAVES Clip | TIFF 2023 YouTube (1:23), where you’ve got to love that rush of romantic strings from Tchaikovsky’s 6th Symphony, a sure sign of romance ahead.  While Ansa has a first generation Nokia flip phone, he has none, or even a permanent address, so she writes her phone number on paper, which he promptly loses, leaving him in limbo trying to find her afterwards, which is reflected not only in their disconnect from the conveniences of modern electronics, but in the bare furnishings and rather dated furniture of their apartments as well, perfectly captured in a hilarious moment when Ansa receives her electric bill in the mail.  Alienated from themselves and each other, there are so many awkward looks in this film, where characters seemingly have nothing to say, with a camera lingering to prolong the discomfort, yet that karaoke bar is filled with a stream of witty, lyrical references from the lush romanticism of Schubert’s lieder, Jussi Björling; "Ständchen" - Franz Schubert - YouTube (5:03), which is actually sung by Mika Nikander, a bass who has performed with the Finnish National Opera, to the chilly expressionless performance style of the platinum-blonde Finnish sister duo Maustetytöt - Syntynyt suruun ja puettu pettymyksin (Live 2020 ... YouTube (4:09).  Especially in context with such a heavy theme, where the weight of the world is on their shoulders, this film can feel rejuvenating in spirit, so authentically complex and intelligently composed, yet filled with funny gags, including a cameo appearance by longtime regular Sakari Kuosmanen, offering a sweetness and tenderness in the face of so many obstacles in their path, where the director’s own dog captures our collective hearts at the end.  There is no lack of irony with Kaurismäki, where a constant Brechtian estrangement, together with very rigorous compositions of predominantly static shots and a 35 mm cinematography with clear and particularly saturated colors, contributes to a grotesque and surreal character.  Yet, at the same time, there is also a crude social criticism concerning not only the dehumanization of work, but also the transience of life in a world in where just a small gust of wind could drastically change things.  The evocative imagery and pronounced symbolism from longtime cinematographer Timo Salminen is particularly effective, especially an early shot of Holappa looking at himself in front of a broken mirror that condenses the jagged look of a man with a broken identity into a single image.  Few filmmakers have achieved a style so personal and so immediately recognizable, providing an extremely concise style of filmmaking with an elegant structure that manages to touch viewers in familiar yet also unexpected ways, subverting the Boy Meets Girl narrative that we’ve seen so many times, so far outside the Hollywood mold, yet the final shot is an enduring tribute to Chaplin.

La Vie de Bohème (The Bohemian Life)

 

Writer/director/producer Aki Kaurismäki

Cinematographer Timo Salminen

 

 

 

 

 

La Vie de Bohème (The Bohemian Life)          B                                                                  France  Italy  Sweden  Finland  (103 mi)  1992  d: Aki Kaurismäki

The characters are from Balzac’s novels or from Jacques Demy’s films, tuned up to walk from one film to another. Their nearest are not forgotten, whether they are alive or dead, real or fictitious. This degree of ‘unreality’ and belief in fantasy that is connected to it – these are the finest qualities of silent films.  Art and the making of art, these are the main things, impressionistic in the French spirit.      —Aki Kaurismäki, Peter von Bagh interview, 2007

Something of an oddity in the director’s output, winner of a Fipresci Award for New Cinema at the Berlin Film Festival, this is a film that resists categorization, not to be confused with the 1945 film by the same name from Marcel L’Herbier, both based on Scènes de la vie de bohème (1851) by Henri Murger, the basis of Puccini’s La Bohème, King Vidor’s 1926 silent film LA BOHÈME starring Lillian Gish and John Gilbert, the 1996 Jonathan Larson musical Rent, and Baz Luhrman’s Moulin Rouge (2001), among others, while also providing an aesthetic template for the recent Wes Anderson film, The French Dispatch (2022), as both are similarly based on published articles, with Murger writing a string of serial installments published in a local newspaper called Le Corsaire-Satan.  Not really a novel, more of a collection of loosely related short stories, Murger’s semi-autobiographical accounts are personal vignettes that look at struggling artists living in the Latin Quarter of Paris, popularizing a bohemian lifestyle that began with impoverished Parisian art students who stood up against the conservative bourgeois aesthetic, idealizing art while also expressing a contempt for status and money, romanticized by writers such as Victor Hugo and Honoré de Balzac, similarly explored by George Orwell in his first novel published in 1933, Down and Out in Paris and London, as American writers Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Gertrude Stein lived in the Latin Quarter in the 1920’s, embracing the diversity of cultural creativity.  For Kaurismäki, he took his rag tag team of actors and film crew on the road, first to London to make I HIRED A CONTRACT KILLER (1990), surrounded by a bigger crew than ever before, utilizing foreign actors, throwing iconic rocker Joe Strummer into the mix, before heading to Paris, making a film in French, though the majority of the cast was Finnish, with a setting that most closely resembles René Clair’s UNDER THE ROOFS OF PARIS (1930), romanticizing the rooftop vantage point of the city of Paris, eloquently shot in black and white by Timo Salminen, certainly among his most artfully expressive, elevating this into a shadowy neo-noir aesthetic, with French songs sprinkled into the film, like a historical time capsule, aki kaurismaki - la vie de boheme, where this contemporary setting could be taking place in any era.  Also of interest is the use of French actor André Wilms, playing bohemian writer Marcel Marx, not only in this film but reviving that same character (and dog) twenty years later in Kaurismäki’s Le Havre (2011), becoming an extension of the same film, adding an international perspective to this illustrious Finnish filmmaker, expanding the realms of his material, offering a humane depiction of the enveloping refugee crisis in Europe.  The seeds of that growth may be seen here in this absurdly playful adaptation featuring a trio of misfit artists, spending so much of their time talking endlessly in bars and café’s and dingy rooms, with no action to speak of, instead infusing the film with a melancholic tone of chivalrous gallantry and valor surrounding a group of lovable losers that Kaurismäki is so fond of embracing.  Only the third time in his career that the filmmaker isn’t working with an original script, adapting Dostoyevsky in CRIME AND PUNISHMENT (1983) and Shakespeare in HAMLET GOES BUSINESS (1987), this film introduces a holy trinity of artists, including Marcel as the writer (with his loyal dog Baudelaire who follows him everywhere), Rodolfo the Albanian refugee painter (Matti Pellonpää), and Schaunard the musician (Kari Kyösti Väänänen), becoming a fraternity of penniless artists who survive on their guile and wit, as they lie, cheat, and steal, all in the service of their art, believing, at all times, that they have to create, splurging whatever money they come across, only to end up back where they started, where inevitable conflicts arise over poverty, perpetually out of work, moving from setback to setback, typically drinking their troubles away.   

From the beginning of his career, Kaurismäki’s roots have completely identified with bohemian characters, having been kicked out of the army, worked scores of jobs, been poor, left homeless, yet remained devoted to his art, developing his own unique voice, an underground filmmaker making low budget films, so these vividly drawn, idiosyncratic characters are close to his heart, taking extreme pleasure in filming their exploits, though this version is more sardonic than most.  For every Picasso or Baudelaire who rises to fame and glory, there are countless other artists who have faded into obscurity, with Kaurismäki taking a distinct interest in the latter.  At the film’s outset, Marcel is being unceremoniously evicted from his room, as his work is in so little demand that he can’t afford to pay rent, refusing to alter a single line in his 21-act play, offended by a publisher’s request, quickly making the acquaintance of fellow artist Rodolfo, Bohemian writer and painter meet over a two-headed trout, La Vie De Boheme, Kaurismaki YouTube (2:45), both sharing a disdain for material wealth, only to discover afterwards that Schaunard has moved into his former apartment.  This motley crew of outcasts maintains their friendship throughout the film, sharing money and drink, where camaraderie in the face of hardship is the overriding theme, each with their own questionable talent and stifled dreams, always in pursuit of great art, yet no longer young, like aging innocents entering middle age, typically communicating in a colorfully outdated language that feels better served for the 19th century, where embellishment is a fundamental aspect of their honor code, like the swashbuckling heroes in the Dumas novel The Three Musketeers, using language to elevate the dreary conditions surrounding them, uttering nonsensical phrases like “We’ll be back tomorrow like arrows shot with a sure hand.”  Who better to express this flowery language than New Wave icon Jean-Pierre Léaud, who also starred in I HIRED A CONTRACT KILLER (1990), using pseudo intellectualism as a way of impressing girls and drawing attention to himself, as evidenced in Rivette’s Out 1 and Jacques Rivette R.I.P. (1971) and Eustache’s The Mother and the Whore (La Maman et la Putain) (1973).  He makes a comical appearance as Blancheron, a wealthy patron of the arts, passing himself off as an aristocrat, heavily frowned upon by these near destitute artists, yet his purchase of Rodolfo’s paintings provides a steady source of income.  As a literary adaptation, this features more dialogue than usual, yet neither Pellonpää or Väänänen, part of the director’s trusted stable of actors, spoke a word of French, so phonetic pronunciations were written and taped to the forehead of the actor sitting across from them. Perhaps the best example of the superfluousness of speech is this use of hyperbole, Matti Pellonpää lying to the pawn broker in La Vie de Bohème, Aki Kaurismäki YouTube (1:50), where the poetic use of “It was spring” is perfectly delivered, carrying a weighted and anticipated promise of hope. It wouldn’t be a Kaurismäki film without a loud rock ‘n’ roll intrusion, La vie de bohème (1992 Aki Kaurismäki) YouTube (2:10), with Fake Trashmen ripping off an American classic, a moment of pure ridiculousness, perfectly expressed by Schaunard’s frenzied dancing off to the side in a nihilistic spoof of artistic liberation, a moment he recreates later when he finally plays his new masterpiece on the piano, a radically unorthodox experimentation.  A film where exaggeration is the norm, this is a satiric comedy of manners, even mocking Balzac’s legendary coffee consumption, yet it also pays attention to details, taking a strange fascination with a delicate finesse in the most trivial moments, paying tribute to the original author in a scene visiting his gravesite, La Vie de boheme (Kaurismaki), Rodolfo visits Murger's grave YouTube (39 seconds). 

Making use of authentic locations in Murger’s novel, what’s interesting is that while it’s an artist’s story, using artists as the main characters, the only Kaurismäki story to do so, it’s not really a film about art, or delving into the nature of art, instead it’s more about people living on the economic fringe, much like all the rest of Kaurismäki’s output, eloquently describing his characters as “honorary artists,” trying to find dignity and human value in whatever they are doing.  The director also has a strange fascination with memory and preserving the past, clinging to a world that used to exist before it was wiped out and transformed by modernization and urbanization, preferring the Finland of his youth.  In much the same way, this film explores a lost world, recreating a 19th century mindset, with Kaurismäki clearly identifying with a bohemian lifestyle in this or any other era, where the streets may be filled with artists, yet you may also run into someone with a strong desire to collect a debt, avoiding landlords and old lovers on the streets of the Latin Quarter, a neighborhood distinguished by countercultural figures living day to day, communing with the world as it is, taking nothing and no one for granted, often hilarious and preeminently human, with the director mirroring those same aspirations.  There are weird bits of humor found throughout this film, like subliminally left hints, slightly altering the storyline to fit the circumstances, where characters are victims of pickpocketing, or even deported to the border, yet each time they bounce back, attempting to regain that zest for life, that joie de vivre.  Kaurismäki takes a unique interest in observing small moments, seemingly with no consequence, like finding someone spending time alone smoking a cigarette in silence, watching two lovers kissing in the middle of the street, or finding a comically small three-wheeled car, as if inspired by Jacques Tati, yet always he finds the perfect composition.  There are women in this film, as Marcel meets poor provincial girl Musette (Christine Murillo), yet the main focus centers upon Rodolfo’s on, then off, then on again relationship with Mimi (Évelyne Didi, who also appears in Le Havre), winning her back with just a glance, curiously set to Little Willie John’s Leave My Kitten Alone, la vie de boheme YouTube (43 seconds), while special appearances are also made by film directors Samuel Fuller and Louis Malle.  The most stunningly beautiful sequence may be a pastoral, Renoir style A DAY IN THE COUNTRY (1946), a carefree afternoon of love in the air, having a picnic on the grass, or a languid boat ride on the lake, wordless reveries set to a Tchaikovsky serenade of strings, Serenade for String Orchestra in C Major, Op. 48, TH. 48 - III ... YouTube (8:15), sharing tender and bittersweet moments that find poetic expression.  What this myriad of wayward souls all share, however, is a naïve romanticism, dreamy castoffs from society, exiles who feel out of place wherever they go, their work unappreciated, often disenchanted with the world around them, with Bresson’s Four Nights of a Dreamer (Quatre nuits d'un rêveur) (1971) sharing many of the same sentiments, the city elevated to a central character, where the beauty of Paris is eloquently juxtaposed against a bleaker, harsher reality.  None of the artist’s work is embraced, finding it difficult to survive, where one of the saddest moments is discovering they have to sell some of their most prized possessions, with the whirlwind of their life spent trying to collect them, then having to part with what matters most to them for such a pitiful sum.  The novel’s romanticism is undercut by the ridiculousness of the characters resorting to a flamboyant self-mockery about their impoverished circumstances, yet the unmistakable sadness of the melodramatic finale is one of the director’s best, finding just the right final shot, leaving a timeless and enduring impression, La vie de bohème (1992 Aki Kaurismäki) YouTube (5:22), where the mournful final song hits an elegiac grace note, Toshitake Shinohara - Yukino Furu Machio YouTube (3:02).

LA VIDA BOHEMIA (La vie de bohème) - Aki Kaurismäki (1992) entire film with English subtitles (1:42:59)