Folhas de Outono

Fallen Leaves is a rather short movie but very dense in content. The acting, the dialogues, the sets are austere, which can feel unattractive for many people used to the usual bombardment of images. But this minimalistic direction leaves an immense space for emotions.

The characters have precarious lives. They are confronted daily with the pains and the hardships of the working-classes: bad bosses, poverty, unemployment, addiction. On this background of darkness, the movie manages to remain light and even funny. Life feels fragile and yet, the characters also find solidarity, hope, and love. That might be the political and poetic meaning of this movie.

I left the theater full of joy and with a smile on my face.

Ansa has been fired after the sell by, working in a supermarket time don't fly by, now she's lost and all alone, at least she has her little home, but she'd like to have someone, to share good times by. Holappa has been fired because he drinks, kind of guy who's world's eroded and just stinks, but he's fallen for a girl, it's put his head into a swirl, although the way things seem to go, you'd think he's jinxed. It's a story of two folk that come together, amid the backdrop of a war that seems to tether, as they do their best to miss, the opportunity for bliss, and start to live their lives, combined together.

I'm not here to write a full review but just to share one observation. The Finland in picture is not real, neither it is a Finland of the past, despite of artifacts from the 70s and 40s. It is a Finland of proletariat, an allusion to what was once and could possibly still return. The colors, the fashion, the rhythm, and the certain quality of post production of the film is deliberately made to look like old Soviet cinema (perhaps). I grew up in Soviet Union, so immediately recognize that aesthetics, as well as the reality of the depressed suburbs, omnipresent alchoholism, and the worst kind of proletariat reality, where people are neither given a setting for developing nor being in any way protected. The war in Ukraine is an actor of the film as well. It is present from the opening scene and on - some listen to it, some switch the channel off, but it constantly comes back to interact with the characters. The film might be, among other things, a commentary on the reality that modern-day russia represents. Also interesting that the main male characters are delusional as in wanting to be something they are not on multiple occasions (Holapa's friend wanting to be young or a singer-superstar signing large contracts, or Holappa himself claiming he could easily be a "cool guy" if only he wanted to). It is certainly about us all, and how much delusional hopes are a part of human condition. Yet these become paramount, a desperate means for escape, in a world where people are living in poverty and with little means for self-actualization. Of course there is also this scene when Anse comes to the hospital to read to Holappa and sits down onto a chair painted in blue and yellow, but that might be already a bit of a stretch to think this might symbolize ukraine fighting to get whatever Holappa represents out of darkness and into the world of hope. Overall it's a charming feel-good movie, classically Kaurismaki.

Greetings again from the darkness. Finland is often listed as the country having the happiest people, and this latest from writer-director Aki Kaurismaki (Oscar nominated THE MAN WITHOUT A PAST, 2002) arrives to make sure we never again believe this. It's not that the film is oppressively sad, but it does focus on loneliness ... especially that of the two main characters.

These two leads are Alma Poysti as Ansa and Jussi Vatanen as Holappa. The timeline of their relationship goes something like this: They notice each other on karaoke night at the local tavern, but they don't speak to each other. They cross paths at a bus stop, again not speaking. When they finally do meet, they go for coffee and a movie (Jim Jarmusch's zombie flick, THE DEAD DON'T DIE). He then loses her phone number. They almost meet a couple of times outside the cinema (where a Bardot poster is displayed), but just miss each other. When they do meet again, they part ways over a 'deal-breaker'. She adopts a stray dog she initially names "dog". When they meet again, they don't speak.

Some may call this progression dry, but with filmmaker Kaurismaki at the helm, a better description is wry. Ansa expertly sports a forlorn look most of the time. The only exception is when she flashes subtle signs of hopefulness when she looks at Holappa. On the other hand, he spends most every day and evening guzzling from a glass, a bottle, or a flask ... a habit that costs him various jobs. His circular reasoning is explained as: "I'm depressed because I drink and I drink because I'm depressed." Adding to the tone are reports of Russia's invasion of Ukraine every time Ansa clicks on her kitchen radio.

Ansa has a friend named Tanya (Alina Tomnikov) and Holappa has a buddy named Huotari (Janne Hyytiainen). He is attracted to her and she admires his singing voice, yet deems him too old to date. These two characters could have been expanded, but Kaurismaki is so efficient at storytelling that the film barely lasts 80 minutes. Static shots and wordless exchanges fill much of the time, each scene with a definitive purpose that we fully understand. Personally, I've rarely been so filled with hope as watching Ansa purchase a single plate and corresponding utensils.

The film is spartan and quiet, yet the deadpan characters feel real and fully developed despite minimal dialogue. There is certainly a message about alcoholism and how outside forces can have such an impact, and yet the film seizes on Ansa's hope for a better day. Kaurismaki's film won a Jury Prize at Cannes, and is Finland's submission for Best International Feature Film. For those who thrive on intimate cinema, it's a gem ... and for those who doubt that "happiest country" label for Finland, you now have your supporting documentation.

Opened in NYC and Los Angeles on November 22, 2023, other cities to follow.

Finland's official submission for Best International Film. Finnish filmmaker Aki Kaurismäki (LE HAVRE, MAN WITHOUT A PAST) has been making his special brand of movies for some four decades now. FALLEN LEAVES is one of his best. Sporting his usual low key approach with clipped dialogue and an icy wit on par with a Scandinavian winter, Kaurismäki's latest takes the basic form of Romantic Comedy, but, of course, filtered through his sensibility.

A pair of lonely-hearts, Ansa (Alma Poysti) and Holappa (Jussi Vatanen), meet 'cute' at a Karaoke bar. Naturally, it isn't love at first sight, but, soon the resistance breaks and they go through the process of coming together, obstacles getting in their way and, eventually, fall in...well, sorta... - it's a Kaurismäki film.

What works so well here is the screenplay. Kaurismäki seems to have dissected his dialogue down to its most essential words. There isn't any excess. Nothing is said that doesn't need to be*. Yet, it remains a witty delight. The actors are on the same page and deliver their lines with essential succinctness, while never interfering with their physical performances - which are also spot on. Kaurismäki's genius is that even with so little said (or done), one still gets a full sense of his characters' lives. Oh, and the whole thing, including credits, is 82 minutes long.

The 66 year old Kaurismäki pays tribute here to Directors with their own inimitable style with references to Godard, Bresson and Jarmusch (stay tuned for the final kicker, which is a perfect capstone). He also uses pop tunes as a fine accent and amusingly names mundane drab holes in the wall joints with exotic monikers like Cafe California and Cafe Buenos Aires (not to mention warmer, too!).

On the surface FALLEN LEAVES may appear 'slight' - but, it's more meaningful than at first blush. It's a delightful film from a true original.

* In many ways, FALLEN LEAVES is a perfect film to introduce those with a hesitance to subtitles, since the dialogue is so sparse.