Tropic Sprockets / Fallen Leaves

By Ian Brockway

From Aki Kaurismäki (Le Havre), “Fallen Leaves” is a still life study in melancholia. Eerie and dreary to the point of sardonic black humor, the film would be indigestible to the senses were it not for the subtle and understated performances given by Jussi Vatanen and Alma Pöysti in the lead roles. What emerges is a pained yet hopeful treatise on addiction and alcoholism to rival Mike Figgis’s “Leaving Las Vegas.” [Showtimes at Tropiccinema.com.]

Holappa (Jussi Vatanen) is a handsome but sorrowful man who can’t see the fun in anything. He works in a metalworks factory and lives in a drab uniform apartment in Helsinki. His only relief is in a corner bar shot in rich colors and cloaked in deep shadows well suited for the cinema of Billy Wilder or Michael Curtiz. The Alain Delon film posters that he is surrounded by create a striking contrast to his morose character. Holappa’s frown is deep and permanent. Motionless he sits and nurses an everlasting beer. Holappa’s friend (Janne Hyytiäinen) urges him to try karaoke, but he is awkward and off key. Holappa becomes even more morose.

One day on the street, the ultra-reserved Anya (Alma Pöysti) meets Holappa. The two exchange laconic remarks but their eyes express a yearning to connect. Anya writes down her number and quickly exits. Holappa is drunk and the notation falls from his pocket, lost forever in the rain.

Holappa forgets this misfortune and sets to work, becoming more intoxicated each day.

Anya again meets Holappa by chance. The man transfixed apologizes. They agree to a film and then dinner, sometime later. At dinner, Holappa is saturated by alcohol. Anya tells him that his behavior is a final dealbreaker.

Holappa storms off. Later that morning, he is fired.

Such dispiriting behavior makes for difficult viewing. Even the bar songs mention dying in the rain, while news reports relate the war death toll in Ukraine. Sometimes, the lack of comic relief is relentless.

No matter the issue, the sensitivity evident in the faces of Vatanen and Pöysti is undeniable. Both characters feel pursued by spirits and the pushes and pulls of addiction are authentic and palpable.

Grim times abound for Holappa and Anya. The two seem locked in a “Twilight Zone” of apathy and sadness. At other moments, the episodes of drear are punctuated with brevity in the inclusion of the zombie film “The Dead Don’t Die” by Jim Jarmusch.

Perhaps the two characters exist in an alternate universe, where the radio only reports on the war and the bars are filled with pokerfaced people who sing despairing lyrics in a town where it rains constantly, and the time of day is always nebulous and impossible to define.

Whatever the happenstance, the final scenes with the actor Vatanen cleared of medical blight, feel Bowie-like in their vulnerability with his sky-blue eyes ultra-bright in their clarity.

Write Ian at [email protected]

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