By Jonathan Monovich.
Fallen Leaves implies that cinema, and the love that it fosters, saves lives.”
In Ingmar Bergman’s Through a Glass Darkly (1961), it is said that when the thought of love and God being the same is made “suddenly the emptiness turns into abundance, and despair into life. It’s like a reprieve… from a death sentence.” The essence of Aki Kaurismäki, Finland’s astute auteur, can perhaps best be summarized by this quote. Though Kaurismäki’s oeuvre repeatedly explores despondent worlds torn apart by war and characters depressed by the malaise of their dejected lives, it is the presence of love and the recognition of its importance that gives these characters the strength to persevere. Thus, despite their discouraging subject matters, these films often become slow-burning humanistic tales of hope. Much like the “transcendental style” of Robert Bresson that Paul Schrader praised in his groundbreaking 1972 study, Transcendental Style in Film, Kaurismäki emphasizes a minimalist method of filmmaking with a focus on the mundanity of everyday life and a search for meaning through suffering. Though unspoken in the work of Kaurismäki, Through a Glass Darkly’s question whether “love is proof of God’s existence or if love is God himself” is engrained in his thematic framework.
Just as Bergman quickly began to counter this philosophy in the later iterations of his crisis of faith trilogy with Winter Light (1963) and The Silence (1963), Kaurismäki arguably applied the aforementioned ideology to the first two entries of his “proletariat trilogy,” Shadows in Paradise (1986)and Ariel (1988), and later shattered it with The Match Factory Girl (1990). Whereas Bergman remained more pessimistic, the finale to Kaurismäki’s “proletariat trilogy” remains an outlier in his filmography and he has continued to frequent the power of love’s lifechanging presence and its different forms. Kaurismäki’s latest film, Fallen Leaves (2023), does just that while simultaneously embracing the subtle, yet meaningfully precise, humor that has become a stylistic signature of his. While some of his films are certainly more facetious than others, Kaurismäki always finds a way to laugh at life’s obstacles, including in Fallen Leaves. Winner of the Prix du Jury (Jury Prize) at the 76th Cannes Film Festival, the Silver Hugo (Best Director) at the 59th Chicago International Film Festival, and Finland’s entry for Best International Feature Film at the upcoming 96th Academy Awards, Fallen Leaves has rightfully received global acclaim for its altruistic approach and Kaurismäki’s ability to achieve it in under ninety minutes.
Like many of its predecessors, Fallen Leaves focuses on melancholic lives of Helsinki’s working class. Ansa (Alma Pöysti) miserably spends her days unfairly treated at a grocery store and returns home to an isolated life plagued by upsetting radio broadcasts of the neighboring war in Ukraine. Like Drifting Clouds (1996), Le Havre (2011), and The Other Side of Hope (2017), Kaurismäki weaves in current atrocities amidst the narrative to both bring them to the forefront of a global audience and to further solidify that gloom is inescapable at the surface level for the film’s protagonists. Similarly, Holappa (Jussi Vatanen) is introduced as a disheartened industrial worker. He relies on alcohol as a remedy for his disappointments in life, and his evenings are spent frequenting local bars. Holappa’s face is usually blank and void of any emotion other than despair. Though Holappa’s facial expressions are practically unidimensional, like the “Great Stone Face” (Buster Keaton), the emotion of Jussi Vatanen’s performance is in the eyes. Like in La vie de bohème (1992) and the “proletariat trilogy,” the bars of Fallen Leaves are places filled with lifeless beings bound for awkward occurrences. Holappa is the classic Kaurismäkian man—solitary, over contemplative, insecure, unlucky, and in need of support. Ansa is the archetypal Kaurismäkian woman—lonely, underappreciated, mistreated, heartbroken, and yearning for connection. Through chance, the two uncomfortably make eye contact one night and later reunite on the afternoon of Ansa’s unwilling unemployment. They recognize one another and agree to a coffee date. It is a peculiar setup for a romance, but one that is unsurprising in the world of Kaurismäki. Surrounded by dull and dreary settings, noticeably gray, their lives are literally brightened after they begin seeing one another.
Kaurismäki is undoubtedly a true lover of cinema as evidenced by his playful inclusion of references….”
For Kaurismäki’s characters, the movie theater was previously a place of distress. In Shadows in Paradise, Nikander (Matti Pellonpää) is stood up at a screening of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (1966). In The Match Factory Girl, Iris (Kati Outinen) uncontrollably cries at what should be invoking laughter while watching the Marx Brothers’ Room Service (1938). In Drifting Clouds, Lauri (Kari Väänänen) storms out of an unspecified comedy picture and demands a refund for having not laughed at its “intolerable garbage.” Fallen Leaves at first strays from this trend of unfortunate moviegoing experiences, and Ansa/Holappa delightfully fall for one another while watching Jim Jarmusch’s The Dead Don’t Die (2019)—the similarly deadpan work of Kaurismäki’s well-known friend and collaborator. Then, once the lighthearted zombie mutilation of the Jarmusch flick has come to a close, like clockwork, the night is foiled. The two go their separate ways and the hopeless Holappa loses Ansa’s phone number outside the theater. Though in this moment one can’t help but feel sorry for Holappa, the scenario is also humorous for its comedic acknowledgment of man’s mishaps. It’s something rather simplistic, a piece of paper with a phone number falling out of a pocket and blowing away in the wind, yet it is thoughtfully particular like the meticulously crafted accidents of the tramp and their chaotic results in Charlie Chaplin’s timeless classics. Making the moment even more tragically absurd is that Holappa doesn’t even know Ansa’s name.
Fallen Leaves then follows Holappa’s attempt at redemption and his pursuit of self-improvement. Kaurismäki’s passion for music dates back to his first film, The Saimaa Gesture (1981), and most famously in the creatively quirky Leningrad Cowboys Go America (1989). He continues his regular inclusion of live music with Fallen Leaves, and the film appropriately supplements its story with similarly sad lyrics. Life presents harsh realities and Kaurismäki does not shy from them. What makes Kaurismäki’s work charming is the second chances that are presented and the angelic guidance that his troubled men eventually receive. In Fallen Leaves, the comedic dialogue carefully woven throughout the disastrous buildup foreshadows the light at the end of the tunnel, and despite the preceding unpleasantries, Kaurismäki ultimately rewards viewers with a joyous finale that offers an optimistic outlook on life.
Kaurismäki is undoubtedly a true lover of cinema as evidenced by his playful inclusion of references to the French classics Diary of a Country Priest (1951) and Band of Outsiders (1964) along with posters for the beloved films Contempt (1963), Pierrot le Fou (1965), Le Samouraï (1967), and L’Argent (1983). The acknowledgment of three of his greatest cinematic influences, Robert Bresson, Jean-Luc Godard, and Jean-Pierre Melville, is unsurprising given the similarities that Kaurismäki shares with their styles, but it is a respectful choice to further their legacies on screen. Very clearly a cineaste, it may seem unusual that Kaurismäki’s temple, the movie theater, is almost sacrilegiously shown as a place of frustration. When you think about it further, the movie theaters in Kaurismäki’s films are important catalysts for change. They offer solace to the challenges that his characters face and provide a reason to keep on going. The scenarios don’t always turn out as they should have at the movie theaters in the world of Kaurismäki, but this often serves as a motivating factor to set out and correct them. Had Holappa and Ansa not connected over Jarmusch’s zombie comedy, who knows if they would even still be around given the darkness that was consuming their lives. By the end, Fallen Leaves implies that cinema, and the love that it fosters, saves lives. Kaurismäki’s amusing response to the Criterion Collection’s request in making a top ten list, “it can’t be anything less when a disoriented young mind is put in a situation where he has to leave Chaplin, Renoir, Tati, Clouzot, Malle, Truffaut, Godard… outside of a minimal-sized list, the size controlled by the Janus-faced Criterion people, who don’t seem to understand the laws of any reason” not only exemplifies his exuding passion for the art form but also that he, like his characters, fights through the pain of difficult situations by striving to realize the best of himself.[1] With Fallen Leaves, Kaurismäki has achieved that.
Distributed by MUBI, Fallen Leaves is now exclusively in theaters.
Endnote
1) “Aki Kaurismäki’s Top 10.” The Criterion Collection, 21 Oct. 2011, https://www.criterion.com/current/top-10-lists/163-aki-kaurismaki-s-top-10.
Jonathan Monovich is a Chicago-based writer and Image Editor for Film International, where he regularly contributes. His writing has also been featured in Film Matters, Bright Lights Film Journal, and PopMatters.