With his trademark deadpan wit, Finnish filmmaker Aki Kaurismäki once again delivers a satisfying tale of blue-collar injustices and worker solidarity, this time in a melancholy romance between two loners. The setting is modern-day Helsinki, albeit with old flip phones, an internet café, and the vintage look of thrift store furnishings and clothing. Out of an old-fashioned radio, we hear news of Russia invading Ukraine, in a nod to the current moment. (Earlier this year, triggered by the aggression, Finland joined the NATO military alliance in a setback for Russia.)
One after the other, authorities display gleeful cruelty in Kaurismäki’s world. After grocery store employee Ansa (Alma Pöysti) allows a homeless man to take expired food before she tosses it into a dumpster, the boss confronts her, “You’ve been under watch.” He then proceeds to examine her purse, where he finds more expired food. She’s fired, and her friend Liisa (Nuppu Koivu) quits in solidarity. They dryly scoff that their previous wages were the same as the soup line.
Ansa easily lands a dishwashing job at a bar, where a hilarious image of her carrying a very tall stack of tumblers illustrates her nonstop work. On payday, before she gets her first check, the boss is nabbed by the cops. It’s rumored he has been selling drugs, maybe hashish. As he’s hauled off, he yells to her facetiously, “Take the week off. Take two weeks.”
Out on the town, Ansa and Liisa go to a karaoke bar, where Ansa first encounters construction worker Holappa (Jussi Vatanen). Holappa’s confident pal Huotari (Janne Hyytiäinen) gets up to sing a Finnish tango song, which lays the groundwork for the eclectic soundtrack that includes rockabilly, Tchaikovsky, goth pop, “Mambo Italiano,” and the jazz standard that gives the film its original title, “Kuolleet Lehdet” (“Dead Leaves”), better known in English as “Autumn Leaves.”
Out on a date, Holappa and Ansa go to the movie theater to see Jim Jarmusch’s most recent film, The Dead Don’t Die (Kaurismäki and Jarmusch are longtime mutual admirers), which generates absurd comparisons by audience members who say it reminded them of Bresson or Godard’s Bande à Part. As they say goodbye, Ansa gives Holappa her phone number on a slip of paper. Soon after, he loses it, and he had never learned her name. She waits by the phone in vain, and he waits outside the Ritz cinema hoping she’ll return. When their paths eventually cross, he claims he’s worn out three (!) pairs of shoes waiting for her.
She invites him for dinner, though she’s unused to having company over and needs to buy a second place setting. She serves screw top sparkling wine to accompany the meal, but he craves additional adult beverages, causing friction between them. After explaining that her father died from alcoholism and her mother died from grief, she gives him an ultimatum: He can choose her or the bottle. He storms out saying, “I don’t take orders.” It’s an unwise move. More than once, drinking on the job has gotten him fired.
Meeting again on karaoke night, Holappa has a change of heart and tells Huotari he doesn’t want to drink and later pours out his vodka bottles. Now Ansa is eager to take him back, but an accident delays their reunion, creating more obstacles to a happy ending that requires perseverance against many odds.
It’s been six years since Kaurismäki’s last film, the Syrian refugee tale, The Other Side of Hope, and his pace is slowing down after a prolific period in the 1980s and 1990s when he made his name with Crime and Punishment (1983), Leningrad Cowboys Go America (1989), and The Match Factory Girl (1990). He hasn’t lost his touch.
Fallen Leaves premiered at this year’s Cannes Film Festival where it took home the Jury Prize. It is also the Finnish submission to the 96th Academy Awards for Best International Feature. At a fleet 81 minutes, it exemplifies a slim version of the director’s perfected brand of tragicomedy.
Fallen Leaves will open in theaters on November 17.
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