Das Leben der Boheme

Aki Kaurismäki's third literary adaptation, Bohemian Life, may also be his best. Crime and Punishment was brilliantly made (and, remarkably, that was his directorial debut) and Juha is a masterful tragedy, not to mention a magnificent revival of the silent film. As for Hamlet Goes Business, the conclusion was a little overdone, but overall it remains an interesting version of Shakespeare's play. But it's in Bohemian Life, based on Henri Murger's story collection, that Kaurismäki's passion for the subject is felt the most. He always wanted to make this film, and when he finally did the result was wonderful.

Beautifully shot in black and white, the film explores the intertwined lives of three artists living in Paris: a French playwright, Marcel Marx (André Wilms), an Irish composer, Schaunard (Kari Väänänen), and an Albanian painter, Rodolfo (Matti Pellonpää). Together, they struggle to maintain a certain decency in their lives, whether that involves tricking their landlord or using a customer's (Jean-Pierre Léaud, grandiose as Rodolfo's portrait model) jacket for a couple of hours without the latter noticing anything. They don't demand much, in fact their friendship is more than enough to ensure life goes on fairly well.

At this point, a new character appears: Mimi (Evelyne Didi), a barmaid. Rodolfo falls in love with her, and from there on, things begin to change, and not for the best: the Albanian is sent back home, and when he returns, six months later, everything's different. Can old bonds be restored? Can the situation go back to the way it was? Kaurismäki takes his time to make us acquainted with his characters (hence the unusually long running time - most of his films run to 70 minutes, 80 tops; this one is 100 minutes long), and that's why the movie hits us hard when it has to: having followed their combined fates since the beginning, we have the feeling that we know them, a fact that contributes to making the sucker-punch epilogue even more devastating.

The three bohemians are humble but nice people: the simplicity of their lifestyle makes us connect with them on a visceral level, cheering for them when life's good and crying when it suddenly turns bad. Pellonpää, in particular, gives the performance of a lifetime (alongside Shadows in Paradise), his brooding yet incredibly sweet Rodolfo being the heart and soul of this movie (most unforgettable moment, upon being asked by Mimi to be an Albanian gentleman: "Gentleman, no. Albanian, yes").

Bohemian Life represents a successful transfer of Finnish mentality and attitudes to a timeless Paris: you never stop and think there's something that doesn't belong there. It's all so perfect, in its sad and happy moments, and Kaurismäki can be very proud of the film he considers to be his favorite.

'La vie de boheme' (1992) takes, like many other films by Aki Kaurismäki, a classic theme, including its story and characters, and transplants it to another historical period and another world - the Kaurismäki universe. In the case of this production, he takes two of his favorite actors from films made in Finland and brings them to Paris to film the location of the Parisian bohemian and the love between Mimi and Rodolfo. The starting point is the same novel published in the mid-19th century that inspired the opera "La Boheme" but the characters have insecurity and in-adaptation to the mercantile world that surrounds them specific to many of Kaurismäki's heroes. Nothing of the extroverted exuberance of the parties in Puccini's work reaches 'La vie de boheme', instead we have copious doses of Finnish melancholy. We do witness an opera scene or rather a scene the opera, because the camera is directed not to the stage but to the hall to capture two of the heroines of the story dreaming of an untouchable world in the supreme sounds of Mozart's music. As in the novel or the work inspired by it, love cannot overcome death.

The heroes of the film are three failed artists, perfect only in their incompatibility with the world around them. Marcel (André Wilms) is a writer who is not able to shorten his 21-chapter texts and adapt them to the tastes of contemporary readers. Schaunard (Kari Väänänen) is a composer whose strident works are not supported even by his friends. Rodolfo, the painter (Matti Pellonpää), is thrown out the door outside all the galleries to which he tries to place his paintings, but at least he has an admirer and buyer who provides for a while the three a thin source of income. Unfortunately, this Rodolfo is also an illegal immigrant (from Albania, from all places) and just when he found his love in the person of the bartender Mimi (Evelyne Didi) he is discovered by the police and deported. The plot follows somewhat the lines of the story we know from Puccini's opera, with social and personal details adapted to the Paris of the last decade of the 20th century. Each of the three men will live ephemeral love stories, united fby their friendship and their poverty in a world where their art has no chance to be appreciated and ensure their livelihood.

What does the Kaurismäki version of "La Boheme" bring new? It is noteworthy first of all the cynical and pessimistic view of the relations between artists and the surrounding society. It does not help, of course, that each of the three is lacking talent and is a failure in his own field. 'La vie de boheme' also captures the role of women in intrigue - they seem much more materialistic and down to earth than their lovers, and will leave them when they are convinced that they are no longer able to support them. Even Mimi is far from the soft image of Puccini's work, and the choice of an older and less attractive actress accentuates the effect. Kaurismäki does not give up melodrama, but seeks it elsewhere, creating an anti-romantic version of the story. Benefiting from the services of the extraordinary cinematographer Timo Salminen, he builds on the screen an almost timeless Paris, paying homage to the French filmmakers and the classic works of this film school. His "La Boheme" is not sung but narrated amid grunts of frustration. This special movie, like all Kaurismäki's movies, is not to be missed.

A French playwright, an Albanian painter, and an Irish composer, all living hand-to-mouth in Paris, devise various schemes to secure their next meal, or cheat the landlord, or help each other out of jams. Cynically witty and poignant by turns, La Vie de Boheme somehow manages to simultaneously embellish and skewer the old cliche about starving artists on the Left Bank.

This might almost be the film to show your son or daughter when they have declared that they want to become a novelist or painter and move to an exotic locale--except that, who knows, it might have the opposite of the intended effect.

I liked it quite a bit. Watch for the performance by the Irishman of his own piano piece for his friends, toward the end: hilarious!

Although Aki Kaurismaki credits Henri Murger's collection of stories as the source for his "La vie de boheme" (1992), the underlying dramatic structure actually comes straight from Puccini's opera "La boheme" (with the central focus of the story of Rodolphe and Mimi). Superb black and white photography, with a droll script delivered by mostly dead-pan (but nonetheless funny) performers -- including beloved regulars like the late Matti Pellonpaa and Kari Vaananen (Kati Outinen, a very appropriate Mimi I would think, was missing, however -- maybe her French was not good enough).

This was phenomenal. Really fun to see Kaurismäki take these Finnish actors and have them act in French and making it really work. I had no idea what to expect and the film blew my away with its drama and humor.

What really makes this whole thing work is the trio of main characters. They work excellently with each other. They have sharp dialogue, witty fast humor and best of all; They are relate able. This is a film were small moments matter. For example, there's a scene were a person is unable to pay for a meal and an older man overhears it and pays it for the person. What's the explanation for the older man helping? Simple, he was behaving kindly to someone in need. This older man never appears again and has no other relevance, but it works very well here. The inclusion of that moment was nice because it shows you how important those small gestures can be.

Kari Väänänen was probably my favorite character. He always provided some levity when needed and Andre Wilms always delivered a smart comeback to whatever bad thing faced him, he is like the french Roger Moore (only less upper class). Matti Pellonpää was very subtle and sold all the emotional torment his character went through.

I can see that Kaurismäki adopted a very classic look to tell this story. The tone feels like an Italian Neo realism film mixed with the elements from Aki's work. There's even a little bit of Ozu in this. Don't know if it was intentional, but I could feel the influence.

In short: It was witty, smart and fast, but at the same time tragic, joyful and most importantly; very human.