枯叶

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原名：Kuolleet lehdet又名：Fallen Leaves / Dead Leaves

分类：剧情 / 喜剧 / 地区：芬兰年份：2023

简介：故事讲述两个孤独的人在赫尔辛基的夜晚偶然相遇，并试图找到彼此生命中的第一个，唯一

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更新时间:2024-02-07

枯叶影评：[Film Review] The Other Side of Hope (2017) and Fallen Leaves (2023)

Entering into the 21st century, Aki Kaurismäki’s prolific career slows down tolerably, only 5 features in 23 years, but it also marks a harvest season for a filmmaker of such a unique style and sentiment. THE OTHER SIDE OF HOPE nabs him Best Director in Berlin and FALLEN LEAVES is the recipient of Jury Prize in Cannes.

Both films take place in Helsinki, the former is a bifurcating story about a young Syrian asylum seeker Khaled Ali (Sherwan Haji) and Waldemar Wikström (Kuosmanen), a middle-aged local career-changing restauranteur, both want to start their lives anew, but life is not fair, Wikström can scoop a sizable fortune overnight in a poker game whereas Ali’s heart-rending plea has zero chance to pass the bureaucratic flintiness. But their paths eventually are crossed, comedic episodes alternate with dramatic occurrences (the restaurant’s inutile attempt to wheel out Japanese cuisine is a total gas!), the big reunion of Ali and his sister Miriam (played by Sherwan’s own sister Niroz) pays off grandly without falling into a drippy trap, Ali trusts Miriam’s decision to apply for asylum seeker even though he knows from experience it is a tall order, and the ambivalent coda (with the racism and identitarian menace remains the bane for an immigrant) is marvelously touched up by a canine tenderness, which also crops up in FALLEN LEAVES.

On the strength of Haji’s dignified, roundly relatable performance which uncloaks Ali’s smoldering frustration and trepidation, consolidates his resolute in regarding all the setbacks without blinking an eye, and Kuosmanen’s expertly conveyed compassion, Kaurismäki makes a compelling case appealing to our commiserations apropos of the immigrants crisis in Europe through Ali’s quandary and Wikström’s altruism.

FALLEN LEAVES is a romance, but with a difference, Ansa (Pöysti) and Holappa (Vatanen) are two working-class lonesome souls in their late 30s or early 40s. She is a zero-hour contract employee in a supermarket and he is a sandblaster, neither manages to keep it for too long, but at least in Finland, they are not distressed about seeking a new job. As a matter of fact, distress is something one can hardly detect in Kaurismäki’s corpus. No matter how dire and miserable the situations are, his actors’s poker face remains immutably impenetrable, and unlike “a deadpan look”, Kaurismäki’s trademark expression betrays no self-consciousness. His “subtraction” of emotions through impassivity and stillness of the body language is an acquired taste, but in FALLEN LEAVES, it reaches a form of abstraction, a simplicity, as we watch Ansa and Holappa masterfully code their intentions and thoughts barely pulling a facial muscle, it is droll, but also amazingly candid. Both Pöysti and Vatanen are real finds, especially the former, accessorizing her performative reduction with an evocative aroma of tristesse and resilience.

Ansa and Holappa are two sides of the same coin, who mask the tediousness of their quotidian existence with a strong face of sufferance. However, when a chance to connect with someone arises, both are conferred with a volition to reach out (the lost contact part is very deliberate but how they wordlessly try is unexpectedly touching), even when fate separates them for a second time (after Holappa steels himself to get rid of his undue reliance on alcohol, a salient motif as a relationship deal-breaker in both films), it is merely another test for them to find each other (this time, it is Ansa’s turn to reciprocate her unuttered affection), walking side by side toward a probably rosier future.

Kaurismäki’s concerns over class and politics continue its lifeline in both features (the ongoing report of Ukraine war is a running commentary in FALLEN LEAVES), so is his distinct sense of wry humor and his optimism in humanity, however gelid and reticent a person might intransigently appear, their inner benevolence can slowly radiate through and meld with a receptive equivalent. There is a knowing nod to Jim Jarmusch that much to Holappa’s amazement, Ansa really enjoys THE DEAD DON’T DIE (2019), a director whose artistic complexion is mostly akin to Kaurismäki’s, not least their fondness of using diegetic music, here, Kaurismäki’s Scandinavian auditory selection has always been a boon to salve one’s anomie-bedeviled anima. It must be a maxim that those who love Jarmusch’s films cannot be bad persons, and by the same token, so are Kaurismäki’s stalwarts.

referential entries: Kaurismäki’s LE HAVRE (2011, 8.3/10); J-P Valeapää’s DOGS DON’T WEAR PANTS (2019, 6.2/10); Jim Jarmusch’s NIGHT ON EARTH (1991, 8.1/10).