Fallen Leaves (2023)

Original title: Kuolleet lehdet

Fallen Leaves, the latest offering from Finnish auteur Aki Kaurismäki, is as far away from a typical Hollywood romance as you can get. Forget grand declarations and whirlwind courtships; this is a tale whispered in soft sighs and shared silences. But don’t mistake its quietude for dullness. Like the autumn leaves swirling through its Helsinki streets, the film carries a bittersweet charm, a poignant meditation on loneliness, resilience, and the quiet flicker of connection in an often-indifferent world.

The story follows Holappa (Jussi Vatanen), a middle-aged man down on his luck after losing his job, and Ansa (Alma Pöysti), a single woman navigating the mundanity of her daily routine. Their paths cross in a smoky karaoke bar, a brief encounter that sparks a hesitant curiosity in both. But life, as it often does, throws up roadblocks – missed calls, wrong addresses, and the ever-present shadow of past hurts. Their journey to connection is a slow dance, one step forward, two steps back, punctuated by moments of quiet tenderness and wry humour.

Kaurismäki’s signature minimalist style, with its clean lines, understated performances, and very dry wit, perfectly suits the film’s melancholic tone. The washed-out palette evokes a sense of urban loneliness, with the occasional pop of vibrant colour. The actors, particularly Pöysti, deliver subtle yet nuanced performances, conveying volumes with a mere shrug or a flicker of emotion in their eyes. The silence speaks louder than words, as they navigate the awkward dance of unspoken feelings.

There are some issues with the movie. The pacing can feel glacial at times, and the lack of dramatic conflict might leave some yearning for more spark. The soundtrack, while melancholically beautiful, occasionally feels repetitive. Still, these are minor quibbles in a film that so effectively captures the quiet poetry of everyday life.

What truly resonated with me was the film’s hopeful undercurrent. Despite the loneliness and hardships faced by the characters, there’s a quiet resilience in their spirits. The shared meal, the stolen glances, the simple act of kindness—these are the small victories that illuminate the darkness. Fallen Leaves isn’t a grand spectacle, but it’s a film that lingers, a gentle reminder that even in the bleakest autumn, hope can blossom anew.

(In cinemas — check your local movie guide for show times.)