Finnish

FALLEN LEAVES: two lonely people amid the driest of humor

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Photo caption: Alma Pöysti and Jussi Vatanen in FALLEN LEAVES. Courtesy of The Match Factory.

The Finnish deadpan comedy Fallen Leaves is the story of two fortyish singles navigating a blue collar world that is filled with disappointment, despite low expectations. We first meet the no-nonsense Ansa (Alma Pöysti) working in a supermarket, and then the sarcastic loner Holappa (Jussi Vatanen), working in a metal scrap yard. Fallen Leaves depicts Finnish middle-managers as tyrannical idiots, so neither Ansa or Holappa get any satisfaction from their work. Neither has much of social life, although they spot each other when accompanying friends to a karaoke bar.

These are two lonely people. But, not only don’t Ansa and Holappa meet CUTE, they keep not meeting AT ALL. Holappa’s shyness precludes an introduction at the karaoke bar, and then happenstance (and Holappa’s drinking) make them keeping missing each other, until a promising encounter is frustrated again.

We know that eventually, Ansa and Holappa will find the opportunity to launch a relationship. The impediment will be Holappa’s alcoholism. Here’s a public service from the Movie Gourmet: If you answer two or more of the following questions in he affirmative, then it is likely you have a problem with alcohol:

  • Have you been fired more than once for drinking on the job?
  • Have you passed out at a bus stop?
  • Do you regularly order three shots with a beer chaser?
  • Does a bartender tell you “[insert your name}, It’s time to go home so you can come back in the morning“?

Writer-director Aki Kaurismäki creates a humorously grim world for our droll heros and their pals. The dreariest of soulless dive bars, with the barmaid in curlers, is aspirationally named the California Pub. Holappa’s buddy tells him that he is no tough guy, “but maybe you could be a tough guy in Denmark”. Kaurismäki fills the screen with lots of Finns standing very still.

Fallen Leaves is not a Must See, I but I enjoyed the yearning for connection and intimacy, framed in the driest of humor. Many critics have describe the film as bittersweet; I see it as film with humor that is bitter-tinged, and then ultimately purely sweet.

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THE BLIND MAN WHO DID NOT WANT TO SEE TITANIC: wow – laughs, thrills, love

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Photo caption: Petri Poikolainen in THE MAN WHO DID NOT WANT TO SEE TITANIC. Courtesy of Cinedigm Entertainment Group.

Wow. The Finnish indie The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic is a rare nugget of complete originality that takes us into a unfamiliar world filled with unexpected laughs, suddenly turns into a thriller, and finishes as a moving love story. It’s unlike any movie I’ve seen.

Our protagonist, Jaako (Petri Poikolainen), is blind and confined to a wheelchair. Writer-director Teemu Nikki tells his story, in that most visual of media – cinema, from the perspective of a blind person. We either see Jaako’s face or the blurs that Jaako sees.

Jaako is a movie nerd, secure in his cultural taste. He rejects pity and strives to maintain his dignity with his sarcastic humor. (He has renamed his caregiver after two sadistic movie nurses – Annie Wilkes and Nurse Rached.) He’s a very, very funny guy.

Jaako has a girlfriend, Sirpa (Marjaana Maijala), that he’s never met. She is also housebound with a disability, but in another city. Sirpa has a sense of humor that can match his, and the two bond on the telephone, each bringing the other some delight each day. One day, Sirpa is devastated by some bad medical news, and Jaako resolves to travel by himself, unaided, across Finland to comfort her. Jaako and we go forth on an eventful journey. I don’t think that a person can display real courage until they are really afraid, and Jaako learns this. too.

Like Jaako, lead actor Petri Poikolainen is also a blind man with multiple sclerosis.

What Teemu Nikki has created here is astounding. There are layers upon layers of newness and originality in The Blind Man, etc: the character of Jaako, the procedural of living independently with both MS and blindness, and cinema from the POV of the blind person. The film’s overriding achievement is empathy.

The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic won an audience award at Venice Film Festival. It’s one of the Best Movies of 2023 – So Far. The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic is available to stream from Amazon, AppleTV, Vudu and YouTube.

COMPARTMENT NO. 6: a surprising journey to connection

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Photo caption: Seidi Haarla and Yuri Borisov in COMPARTMENT No. 6. Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics.

In Compartment No. 6, an odd couple must share the same claustrophobic compartment in a dreadful train ride to Murmansk. She aims to see ancient petroglyphs, and he is heading to a job in a massive mining operation, but they’re really on a journey to human connection.

Compartment No. 6 won the Grand Prix, essentially the second place award, at Cannes; (in 2022, as in recent years, the Grand Prix winner is a much better movie than the winner of the more prestigious Palm d’Or).

Laura (Seidi Haarla) is a mousy Finnish college student in Russia, studying Russian language or archaeology – it’s not exactly clear. She is having a fling with a 40ish Russian professor, and Laura is more deeply invested in the relationship than is her new girlfriend. Laura is out of her depth with the girlfriend’s academic friends. The girlfriend cancels their planned trip at the last moment, and Laura, disappointed, still heads off to Murmansk on her own.

Given the discomfort of Russian train travel, this multi day trip is not for the faint-hearted anyway, but Laura is alarmed to find herself sharing a second-class compartment with a nightmare of a roommate. Ljoha (Yuri Borisov) is an obnoxious drunk, a slob leaving a trail of cigarette ashes and partially eaten sausage. This is a guy devoid of intellectual curiosity, who has never had an original thought. What he possesses in mass quantities is macho boorishness – his icebreaker is “are you traveling alone to sell your cunt?”

More restrained when he is sober, Ljoha is socially inept. As emotionally vulnerable as is Laura, so is Ljoha – he’s just trying very hard to hide it with bravado.

What is important to Laura – and to Ljoha? Fundamentally, each needs to find human connection. Compartment No. 6 takes us on their unpredictable journey. This is not a conventional hate-each-other-and-then-fall-for-each-other movie romance.

Compartment No. 6 is hardly an advert for Russian passenger trains. The train attendant is surly and officious, the running water doesn’t work, and the dining car menu is ever diminishing. The passengers are constantly smoking, and they have no ability to wash themselves. As the trains winds northward, you can’t help but imagine the rancid odors.

Compartment No. 6 is the second feature for Finnish director and co-writer Juro Kuosmanen. Boy, I liked this movie.

VOID: grasping a most ironic lifesaver

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VOID. Photo courtesy of Cinequest.

In the Finnish dark comedy Void, a noted author is struggling in his fifth year of a writer’s block. For better or worse, his wife’s career as a film actress is blooming. As he crumbles under deadline pressure and self-loathing despair, it’s less and less likely that he will hold on to his wife. To reset himself, he tries a sailing adventure and then a visit to a remote hunting cabin to visit a much less-talented author. There, a very unusual circumstance may relaunch his career…and it’s the very opposite of creativity.

Void is filled with the dryest Scandinavian humor. The artistic malaise in Void covers the territory of 8 1/2 and The Shining, but not as compellingly. Void does deliver an inventive lifesaver for the writer to grasp, along with an arch Finnish observation of Hollywood.

Void is mostly photographed in black-and-white. There are four cinematographers credited, and the black-and-white cinematography is stunning.

Cinequest hosts the North American Premiere of Void.

HAPPIER TIMES, GRUMP: personal connection skips a generation

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HAPPIER TIMES, GRUMP

In the Finnish family comedy Happier Times, Grump, a grouchy and emotionally-repressed Finnish farmer has been content to alienate everyone in his life, but then gets the chance to step up and support his teen granddaughter emotionally. The curmudgeon’s son, the girl’s father, is a Yuppie living in Belgium and he’s a piece of work himself; he has long resented the old man’s harshness and emotional detachment. The worlds of the simple old farmer and the hyper-connected urban teenager are centuries apart, but the odd couple must connect to handle a crisis in the girl’s life.

To enjoy Happier Times, Grump, the audience must 1) be amused by the politically incorrect and Luddite pronouncements of the old man and 2) relish an overtly sentimental ending.