Ariel

I saw my first Kaurismäki movie (Man Without a Past) a year ago and have seen and now own most of them. I love them all and watch them over and over, but Ariel is one of my favorites. The dark humor and irony is great, with all the usual elements of suicide, big, old American cars and cool music throughout, ending with the very appropriate "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" in Finnish. All of Kaurismäki's movies demand every second of your attention or you will not "get it" and every time I watch one again, I notice something else. As to the gloom and doom, my Finnish friends tell me not to believe that Finland is truly as depicted here. :-))) I love the relationships: not gushy or fake, but faithful and just plain sweet. It seems much is understood without words and that's the way this movie is.

Director-screenwriter Kaurismäki seems to portray a way of feeling that defies circumstance. The protagonists see contentment and adversity without glee, remorse or recrimination. There is an unspoken lesson. In relating to one another the protagonists do not require validation, offer explanations or make demands. Main character Taisto faces the coarsest of the coarse amicably without fawning fearfully or retaliating reactively. Another character, the boy, is intelligent, quiet, never doubts, has no complex puzzlement about loyalty. What is remarkable is that none of the foregoing is typical of a real, live modern person: most of us spend thousands attempting to reach such a state of grace.

There's something that seems deeply contradictory to the very nature of Kaurismaki's stuff - cinema which at the same time invites the viewer to pay closer attention while shunning him with his trademark apathy and deadpan humour. His characters appear hard, untearful and unselfpitying, their sentiments hermetically sealed behind glacial walls of Finnish unfeeling, yet behind the expressionless mask burn desire and pathos, the truly human stuff. It is not about negation, though it may seem so at first.

Everything Kaurismaki worked towards in his career up to Ariel is brought to a glorious, brilliant blooming here. Composition, shot selection, framing and lighting, everything clicks together to form a cinematic language that threatens to burst at the seams with meaningful restraint. Restraint in which silence communicates. His mastering of the craft so much perfected that dialogue becomes largely irrelevant. There are few lines and they appear to be utilized as a stylistic manner, short and delivered with deadpan unaffection, more than exposition.

Indeed Ariel is a movie mostly told in a visual manner, built upon scene by scene, in a steady and hypnotic succession not concerned with reaching emotionally draining highs and lows as much as with building an unbreakable rhythm of its own. And so it does, to the point that a 69 minute movie appears to last much longer, without outstaying its welcome.

This 1988 feature from Finland's answer to Jim Jarmusch is a deadpan shaggy dog comedy charting the downfall and redemption of an unemployed mine worker, over several tentative episodes constructed not unlike a series of false starts. It begins, initially, as something like a road film; begins again as a romance; then begins yet again as an underworld crime drama, before finally ending in what could be just another prologue (which would make the entire film one large, elaborate tease). Kaurismaki's wayward hero is, like the scenario itself, pleasantly reticent; there's something undeniably disarming about the way he simply drifts from one predicament to another, even if the total effect makes each scene difficult to recall in detail afterward. It may not amount to much, but after a summer full of over-hyped, mega-budget, wannabe blockbusters Kaurismaki's economical humor is hard to resist.

Further stabilizing his position among my favorite filmmakers, Aki Kaurismäki has crafted yet another masterpiece with "Ariel", a hilarious and heartbreaking love story that chronicles a life both destroyed and saved by crime.

Like he beautifully accomplishes in most of his films, Kaurismäki mixes dry humor and brooding melancholy in a realistic, natural manner. The atmosphere is layered with realism, but also playfulness. The story is layered with sadness, but also comedy. Kaurismäki masterfully translates all of the comedies and tragedies of life to the screen, populating this interpretation of the human experience with unconventional heroes and some of international cinema's most unexpectedly kind hearted characters. Kaurismäki humanizes those who would often be looked upon as despicable criminals in a way that makes me root for them more than I would for any superhero. This is not your conventional, mainstream Hollywood film, but it still remains entertaining and accessible. It is a quiet character study that blossoms into a love story, a black comedy, and a bleak crime drama all at once.