Aki Kaurismäki shows, once again, the power of cinema as a locus of love and miracle with his film “Fallen Leaves”. In 80 minutes, the Finnish filmmaker dismantles the nonsense that human happiness resides in an uncertain and volatile world in which the only thing that counts is the ability to buy without limits, autonomy, and freedom, without commitments or direction and not being bitter about the wars or the hardships of others. Kaurismäki appeals to enduring and redemptive values: love, hope, and solidarity that preserve trust in dehumanized times and disappointment with politics as a possibility for good and social justice.
Ansa and Holappa are two lonely souls who only aspire to make a living in a precarious job market that constantly exposes them to poverty and exploitation. The brief and chance meeting in a Helsinki karaoke bar makes them both aware of their need to love and be loved. Although, the couple’s happiness is not guaranteed in advance, but rather requires overcoming a path full of obstacles, setbacks, and disagreements. The twists in the script follow one another and the love story is threatened in multiple moments by Holappa’s alcoholism, the misfortune of losing his telephone number, and, even, at the moment that promised to be happiest, an accident leaves him in a coma fiction to the male protagonist, played by Jussi Vatanen, and frustrates that he can meet with Ansa, the actress Alma Pöysti, without her knowing what happened. Against all odds, the viewer must trust in the Happy End guaranteed by the unequivocally humanistic way of filmmaking that characterizes the Finnish director, Aki Kaurismäki, and the proven resistance shown by the characters in his films, authentic antiheroes, to resign themselves to adversity daily.
This story of love, hope and solidarity makes its way in the midst of a tragic current situation that does not shy away from the film’s plot at all, but rather from which an old radio in Ansa’s small apartment offers punctual and constant testimony. Every time the protagonist wants to listen to music, she comes across news of the war in Ukraine, which could also be that of the Gaza Strip between Israelis and Palestinians – if the film has been shot now – or of other armed confrontations whose interest has been relegated by the media, but they are still there, threatening human existence in Syria, Sudan, Yemen, Nigeria, Myanmar, Somalia or Burkina Faso.
Kaurismäki leads the viewer, without false goodwill, to become aware of the beauty and fragility of life, threatened by “war everywhere”[1]. The fortunate expression of the producer is not reduced to military conflicts, but extends to capitalist greed, which condemns the most vulnerable to a daily struggle to survive, excluded from the supposed developed and green paradise that Finland represents. The filmmaker combats in this film, with which he completes the tetralogy of the proletariat along with “Shadows in Paradise”, “Ariel” and “The Girl at the Match Factory”, a stereotype that does not withstand the examination of any other country either european. Precariousness is portrayed in scenes in which the characters have to choose between paying for electricity, expired food, sleeping in cheap boarding houses or buying a single plate and two cutlery in a modest supermarket to be able to serve dinner to Holappa. Faced with rhetoric that promises happiness in technological progress or in a fierce individualism, not in need of ties, Aki Kaurismäki contrasts what truly matters, irrevocable and irreplaceable values in uncertain and disappointing times with a policy that daily contradicts a minimal ethics, goodness and social justice.
The redemptive power of love runs through the film and leaves us with multiple lessons about the importance of each life or how emotional ties are decisive both in daily happiness and in providing support in existential difficulties. Meeting Ansa transforms Holappa and gives him a better self-awareness that leads him to overcome his alcoholism. The Finnish director masterfully reflects this transition with his camera. A fade to black separates a still life image from another splendid one, in which the green of the trees merges with a blue sky without a cloud.
She too, with the appearance of Holappa, sees her monotonous life, misery, loneliness and not being important to almost anyone transformed. In other scenes, Ansa receives some signs of affection and class solidarity from her co-workers when she is fired from the supermarket for taking an expired sandwich that was going to end up in the bin, or the unconditional support of her best friend when she doubts the possibility of forging a relationship with Holappa. He sometimes needs to share his misadventures with the only friend he has, a role played by actor Janne Hyytiäinen, who does not hide his desire to find a life partner.
Aki Kaurismäki makes it clear that love is donation and dedication, both in the forms of friendship and as a couple. Among the most beautiful scenes of the protagonists, their first outing stands out. He goes to a movie theater, but not to see a romantic movie, but rather a zombie movie, “The Dead Don’t Die” by Jim Jarmusch. Perhaps, an allusion to the existence of a life more typical of the living dead than of humans that the filmmaker portrays in the bar and karaoke scenes. Trails of vodka, a lost look, and without saying a word to the person next to him. It is the context in which the taciturn characters of Kaurismäki appear again and again.
The protagonists also have a hard time relating. Out of pure loneliness, they have lost the ability to converse spontaneously with each other, and they barely speak in their brief encounters. However, the filmmaker humanizes his characters with fine irony and a sense of humor that does not disguise the truth. In any case, it contributes to better illuminating reality and gives it new meaning. “Look at my shoes. It is the third pair I use to look for you,” Holappa tells Ansa to convince her that he had only lost her phone number, but he had not forgotten her. Only, towards the end of the film, when Holappa leaves the hospital with his head bandaged and a crutch, Ansa appears at the door accompanied by an adopted dog and gives her a knowing smile and wink that are the best expression of her love. It is an inalienable commitment to happiness.
In the last scene, Aki Kaurismäki pays tribute to the moving endings of Chaplin’s films, in which the lonely beggar finds the possibility of you that shows that it is not necessary to surround yourself with luxury to be happy. Ansa even names her pet after Chaplin.
The film “Fallen Leaves” reflects both explicitly and implicitly Kaurismäki’s tribute to his teachers: Charles Chaplin, Robert Bresson, Godard, Leo McCarey, John Ford and Yasujiro Ozu. All of them represent the best humanist tradition in the history of cinema. In fact, the main twist in the script, when the male protagonist is run over and cannot keep the appointment, is very similar to one of the key moments in McCarey’s film “Love Affair.” The difference is that the one who suffers the attack in that film is the female protagonist. Recognition of those who inspire his cinema implies respect and gratitude for the wisdom and value contained in tradition, one of the most reviled aspects of a postmodernism dedicated to the new.
The film offers, on the other hand, important philosophical and bioethical reflections. An important one is that it unmasks some of the current visions of love based on sexuality or sentimental affectation. With the philosopher Julián Marías, love happens in the personal area of human life[2] and is the clearest way to refer to the loving condition of each person, which has to do with the ability to give. What does it mean to give for Marías?: “Giving something to someone (…), a radical way of giving oneself”[3], which is neither fusion nor possession, and which includes the intention to last over time, “as something irrevocable”. Love radically modifies those who experience it and projects us into a new way of being in the world. The person we fall in love with becomes, in this way, our project and, without them, life would lack both plenitude and the possibility of happiness. Julian Marías affirms that “you are more of a person to the extent that you love yourself more deeply and personally” [4]. And this, without a doubt, has ethical implications in the way we relate to others and in the recognition of personal dignity.
For movie buffs, this film is a true delight and for those who do not usually frequent movie theaters, it is more than advisable to experience the miracle of coming out a better person.
Amparo Aygües – Former student of the University Master’s Degree in Bioethics – Collaborator of the Bioethics Observatory
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[1] Interview with Aki Käurismaki in Cayman magazine. Cuadernos de cine, nº183, 2023.
[2] Marias, J. (1999). The Christian perspective. Madrid: Alianza Editorial, p.137.
[3] Marias, J. (1993). Personal world map. Madrid: Alianza Editorial, p. 117
[4] Marias, J. (1993). Ibid, p. fifteen
