In a movie year rife with from comes a slender 81-minute gem that outclasses them all. Aki Kaurism瓣kis short, sweet and utterly delightful, is the kind of movie thats so charming, you want to run it back the moment its over.
Kaurism瓣ki, the writer-director Finnish master of the deadpan, has for nearly four decades been making minimalist, clear-eyed fables about mostly working-class characters in harsh economic realities. Bleak as his films are, theyre also funny, compassionate and profound. They put up a tough, droll front that never quite hides the heart underneath.
The same could be said for one of the main characters in the plaintive and tender Fallen Leaves." When Holappa (Jussi Vatanen), a construction worker, is invited by his friend Houtari (Kaurism瓣ki veteran Janne Hyyti瓣inen) to karaoke, he replies: Tough guys dont sing.
Youre not a tough guy, Houtari responds.
Fallen Leaves, Kaurism瓣ki's first since 2017s The Other Side of Hope, is about Holappa and a woman named Ansa (Alma P繹ysti), both solitary people scraping by in Helsinki. They first encounter each other at that karaoke bar where Houtari proudly sings (for the rest of the movie, whenever he appears hell be seeking compliments for his performance), but Ansa and Holappa watch quietly apart.
Kaurism瓣ki draws them together, but slowly. Fallen Leaves is the best big-screen romance of the year even though its prospective lovers exchange only a handful of words and, for most of the film, dont know each others names.
Its more about the circumstances theyre both in. In the beginning of the film, Ansa is working at a supermarket while a security guard glares at her. Shes fired for keeping an expired item instead of throwing it away. At home, she looks at her bills and then shuts the power off. Her next job, at a restaurant, fizzles on pay day when the owner is arrested for selling drugs.
Holappa loses his job, too. After an accident at a construction site due to shoddy equipment, hes fired for having alcohol in his blood. Hes a scapegoat, but the drinking problem is real. He keeps vodka in his locker and hidden on the job site.
Im depressed because I drink and I drink because Im depressed, he tells Houtari.
The cinematography of longtime Kaurism瓣ki collaborator Timo Salminen is so spare, with occasional pops of color and irony, that Fallen Leaves has a timeless feeling. It casts the cruelty of the world as an eternal state, a sense only enhanced and expanded upon in the most precise contemporary reference of the film. Whenever Ansa turns the radio on, news from the war in Ukraine is being read.
In Kaurism瓣kis film, the world is full of bullying authorities. (His radiant 2011 film about an old French shoe shiner helping a migrant boy, hinged on a police officer who in the climactic moment choses to look the other way.) In Fallen Leaves, the only thing to do is curse the jerks who make life miserable, have a drink and head to the movies.
Thats where Ansa and Holappa go, once they finally meet, for a date. They see Jim Jarmuschs a funny choice not just because its a zombie comedy but because Jarmusch, a friend of Kaurism瓣kis, is so similar in deadpan style to him. Outside, the couple stands in front of telling posters: Le Cercle Rouge, Fat City, Pierrot le Fou" each a touchstone to the director.
Its little odes to cinema like these that make Fallen Leaves winner of the jury prize at the Cannes Film Festival and Finlands Oscar submission one of the most personal and self-reflective films for Kaurism瓣ki. He probably wouldn't stand for all the analysis or the praise. But as Ansa and Holappa come together without a word of flowery romance, they carve out a small, private refugee from the world around them just like the movies do. There isn't a bit of fat on Fallen Leaves, just some lean truths about life and a dog named Chaplin.
Fallen Leaves, a Mubi release, is unrated by the Motion Picture Association. Running time: 81 minutes. In Finnish with English subtitles. Four stars out of four.
Jake Coyle, The Associated Press