La vie de bohème

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.

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.

This is a hypothermic look at three dropout artists (a writer, a painter, a musician) who live in an undefined time and place (from the look and feel of it, maybe the suburbs of Paris in the 1950ies). The painter (an Albanian) is actually quite good, the writer distinguishes himself by using an overly florid language ("We'll be right back, like arrows thrown by hand."), the musician doesn't know how to play an instrument. They unerringly define themselves as unrecognised (as opposed to untalented) artists, they never have any money, and they give their devoted women a hard time. Kaurismäki portrays them in his unique style which uses pristinely arranged images in conjunction with absurd humour.

Some people may not get the point. I loved it. I first saw it when it came out in 1992, which was before the internet. I have since managed to google that the movie is based on the same book as Puccini's opera "La bohème". Kaurismäki adopted the book the other way around than Puccini, whereas the opera is colourful and melodramtic, the movie is dour, black-and-white, and minimalistic -- but also funnier.

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!