Movie Mahal

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Kaurismäki’s latest dead pan socially conscious love story, and a return to the proletariat, is one of his most topical but perhaps his best work to date. Almost impossible for anyone to aspire to the innocence of Chaplin in such times of gut-wrenching cynicism but Fallen Leaves does just that, crafting a contemporary love story that is both droll and tragic. There is something Loachian about Fallen Leaves expressly the litany of societal malfeasances that are explicated with Kaurismäki’s characteristically meaningful silences. The focus on zero-hour work culture and food waste is a case in point and which is related to the economic marginalization of single working-class women encapsulated in the figure of Ansa (Alma Pöysti) who is exploited by the system, living within her means. Jussi Vatanen is laconically charming as Holappa, an alcoholic loner who falls for Ansa but remains slavishly addicted to a vice that blindsides his affections. Ansa takes in a homeless dog, a scruffy looking mutt, and whom we only at the end of the film discover is eponymously titled Chaplin. A few coy glances later and Chaplin is not only vying for our affections but competing with the broken, lonely souls of Ansa and Holappa for the best poker-faced performance. As ever, the nods to the broader universe of film are delightfully self-assured particularly to the cinema of Jarmusch, Chaplin and Sirk. Fallen Leaves serves as the perfect antidote amidst our prevailing misery, offering a potent reminder of the comedies of love.