"Well... I think the more pessimistic I feel about life, the more
optimistic the films should be." -- Aki Kaurismäki
Apparently it is indeed possible for a filmmaker in an out-of-the-way
Scandinavian country to make his mark without kowtowing to the commercial
edicts of Hollywood. Aki Kaurismäki has been charming audiences and
taking home international awards for 25 years; he reportedly turned down
an invitation to a New York film festival in protest against the Iraq
war. Eclipse's twelfth DVD series release collects three pictures known
as
Aki Kaurismäki's Proletariat Trilogy. Despite the title,
Communism is not the issue. The films apply a slightly absurd sense of
humor to the stifled hopes and quiet desperation of a number of
working-class Finns. Either unemployed or stuck in mind-deadening jobs,
Kaurismäki's characters know quite well that society doesn't give a
damn about them.
Shadows in Paradise (Varjoja paratiisissa) (1986) gives us an
abrupt introduction to Kaurismäki's bleak vision of Finland. Garbage
collector Nikkander (Matti Pellonpáá) works like a zombie.
A buddy talks about starting his own collecting company so he can die
behind a desk instead of the wheel of a garbage truck, but that pipe
dream doesn't work out. Nikkander eventually finds a kind of hope with
Ilona (Kati Outinen), even though both of them have had it so bad that
they're almost ridiculously distrustful of relationships. Ilona loses her
position as a cashier, knowing that her manager has gotten rid of her to
make way for his daughter who is just graduating school. The only way to
get a job in this city is for someone else to be fired or die.
Many scenes are staged in simple master shots. A short scene may be only
one cut. Kaurismäki's style differs from that of Jim Jarmusch in
that his characters are neither caricatures nor hipster posers, but
ordinary working people struggling against loneliness and an indifferent
world. Finns are apparently not fans of idle chatter: conversation is so
sparse that the films have been compared to silent movies. Typical
sequence: Ilona's workmate, in a dull voice, suggests that they go out
together to have some fun. Kaurismäki cuts to the two women sitting,
bored, in a booth in a cheap café, with loud music playing. These
people have grown hard emotional shells, just to survive.
As if tuned to the characters' suppressed inner spirits, the soundtracks
of the trilogy abound in music, especially Scandinavian rock and Tango
vocals. Nikkander drinks in his off hours but he also attends English
classes. Finding an LP record in a trash heap, he suddenly decides to buy
a stereo to play it on. These lonely souls find comfort where they can,
and an absurdist worldview is a helpful personal resource.
Ilona in
Shadows in Paradise flirts with petty theft, but the hero
of
Ariel (1988) drifts toward criminal activity without ever
losing our sympathy. Thrown out of work by the closing of a mine,
Laplander Taisto (Turo Pajala) is bequeathed a vintage white Cadillac by
his father, just before the old man kills himself. Making his way south
to Helsinki, Taisto is robbed of his savings. Work is hard to come by. He
meets an equally grim meter maid named Irmeli (Susanna Haavisto) when she
tickets his car. Taisto and Irmeli become instant, if solemn, lovers. She
announces immediately that she's divorced and has a boy, fully expecting
a quick rejection. Instead, Taisto promises a lifetime of devotion.
Conventional courtship is apparently too emotionally risky to indulge in
anything fanciful -- not even a smile. Unjustly imprisoned, Taisto is
heartened when Irmeli remains committed to him. Together with his
cellmate Mikkonen (Matti Pellonpáá: again), Taisto busts out
of jail and prepares to commit a robbery to pay for a passage to
Mexico.
The fact that Kaurismäki's characters are so undemonstrative with
their emotions actually increases our involvement. Taisto quietly accepts
every miserable setback, lashing out only when taunted by a prison guard.
Irmeli takes the measure of Taisto in a minute. Taisto and Mikkonen
cement a solid relationship over a single cigarette. Irmeli has put
herself deeply in debt to furnish a halfway pleasant apartment that
contrasts sharply with the miserable rooms elsewhere in Kaurismäki's
films. She risks all to free her man from jail. These people are making
difficult decisions the best way they know how.
Kaurismäki's Finns cherish occasional totems of American consumer
culture, always with the awareness that a comfortable standard of living
will probably always be out of reach. Their silent refusal to cave in to
despair adds to the absurdist sense of humor.
Ariel has a couple
of inspired comedy moments, but there's also something warmly humorous in
the resolve to keep going in life no matter how dismal the details. The
convertible top on Taisto's Cadillac won't go up, leaving him freezing as
he motors south through the snow. The sun rarely shines, but these Finns
never give up.
The conclusions of both
Shadows in Paradise and
Ariel give
Kaurismäki's downtrodden characters a chance for happiness. Not so
with
The Match Factory Girl (Tulitikkutehtaan tytt&oulm;), a
transposition of Hans Christian Andersen's sentimental tragedy
The
Little Match Girl. Unlike the experienced working women of
Kaurismäki's first two stories, the unfortunate Iris (the marvelous
Kati Outinen again) has unguarded illusions about human nature. Instead
of selling matches on the street, Iris makes them in a factory. But
society's cruel indifference is much the same.
The lonely Iris would like the kind of romance found in paperback novels,
but must support her mother and stepfather, who treat her harshly and
demand obedience in all things. She rebels by spending her earnings on a
red dress, and using it to find a man. Picked up by a well-heeled
bachelor on the prowl for an easy conquest, Iris finds herself brutalized
from all sides. Her parents tell her to live somewhere else. Iris's utter
isolation is confirmed when she attempts to share her problem with a
co-worker.
"You don't say", the girl remarks, and abruptly walks
away.
Kaurismäki never indulges a maudlin tone. Iris cries herself to
sleep at night and even attempts suicide, but in the end refuses to play
the role of victim. Her eventual determination to take an extreme revenge
on the world seems entirely logical: denied love and facing rejection,
Iris strikes back, and we're on her side all the way. When her eyes start
to go "dead", we understand the disillusion and adversity that go into
the making of Kaurismäki's working-class Finns.
A look at Ari Kaurismäki's other films reveals his more directly
satirical, pop-oriented side.
Leningrad Cowboys Meet Moses is one
title. An early short subject called
Rocky VI is a direct lampoon
of Sylvester Stallone's boorishly jingoistic
Rocky movies. But
this trilogy about hope-challenged Finns is an impressive accomplishment,
a positive contribution to understanding how most people make their way
in the modern world economy.
Eclipse's
Aki Kaurismäki's Proletariat Trilogy 3-DVD set
presents the short features (average running time: 72 minutes) in clean,
handsome enhanced transfers. The colors are dark and rich, befitting a
land where bright daylight is apparently the exception. We never see
anyone outdoors wearing less than a jacket and the director pointedly
includes shots of icy slush on the streets and ice floating in the
harbor. The clear soundtrack showcases the many spirited music cues; the
Finns seem particularly fond of Tangos. For an upbeat finish,
Ariel concludes with Harold Arlen's
Somewhere Over the
Rainbow -- sung in
Suomi, the Finnish language.
For more information about
Aki Kaurismäki's Proletariat
Trilogy, visit
The
Criterion Collection.To order
Aki Kaurismäki's Proletariat
Trilogy, go to
TCM Shopping.
by Glenn Erickson
