The actor-director
Maximilian Schell once suggested that a country needs a population of at least
50 million to generate a genuine national film industry. Whatever the accuracy
of Schell’s theory, history demonstrates that a comparatively limited number of
citizens has not necessarily precluded the making of motion pictures in, say,
Cuba, Sweden, or New Zealand. Small countries, however, rarely possess the
financial resources, the technical training, the cultural support, or even the
audiences — and, therefore, the theaters — to sustain the production of
cinema on a large enough scale to qualify as a true industry. In fact,
filmmakers from such countries most often must seek international distribution
to attract recognition and, not incidentally, money.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Finland no doubt qualifies as one of those nations too
small to establish any real history of film production, and I suspect that few
Americans, even students of the cinema, can claim much familiarity with the
Finnish product. Thus, a new movie from Finland, The Man Without a Past, written and directed by Aki Kaurismรคki,
represents something special for audiences in this country. In addition, it
arrives in this region trailing garlands of the usual prizes from the usual
festivals, from Cannes to Telluride, and an Academy Award nomination for best
foreign language film. Although movie folks hand out medals, plaques, and
statuettes like penny candy at a kindergarten party, the picture probably
deserves most of its honors.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย If the movie reflects something of the life and character
of the country and its people, that image differs considerably from the National Geographic pictures of blue
lakes, birch forests, snow, reindeer, and the midnight sun. The film takes
place in a squalid urban setting, where people live in giant shipping
containers, scrounge for household items in the dump, and dine out at the
Salvation Army canteen. Despite the bleak surroundings and the poverty of their
lives, most of the characters display a deadpan drollery in their language and
attitudes, so that the action and meaning frequently alternate between the sad
and the comical.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The title character loses his past when three thugs beat
him savagely and leave him for dead. In the hospital, he inexplicably recovers
from a coma and takes off, ending up in a poor neighborhood, where a family
nurses him back to health and he settles down in his own shipping container and
finds a menial job at the Salvation Army. Since the beating has robbed him of
his memory, he knows nothing of himself, not even his name. His new life
provides him the rare opportunity to invent a new self.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย A favorite cinematic condition, amnesia has inspired
scores of Hollywood flicks in which the protagonist usually finds himself lost
in some sort of thriller, imperiled by the manipulations and betrayals of
others, desperate to discover his true identity. In The Man Without a Past, amnesia functions comically to place the
unnamed protagonist in a situation constructed mostly from the materials of
Franz Kafka and Charlie Chaplain. His lack of an identity may cause him to
disappear from the endless papers generated by the country’s bureaucracy, but
it also enables him to experience the world as a constantly unraveling puzzle,
which he gradually solves with a kind of eccentric, fatalistic innocence.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย Although he begins as a complete blank (he cannot
remember anything, but can recognize the world around him), the title character
(Markku Peltola) gradually creates an existence and a personality from the
accumulating experiences of life in the waterfront slum. Most of the people
around him treat him with kindness and charity, though most of them also mask
this kindness in comically threatening words and mannerisms. He moves serenely
through the life of the place, allowing events to happen and accepting, with
immense calm, the essential strangeness of his existence.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The movie sometimes combines the tragic and the comic in
some social criticism, as when a most unusual bank robber, who initially seems
as eccentric and amusing as everyone else, ends up taking his own life, driven
by the shame of losing his business and failing to pay his employees. In the
midst of its darkly lit scenes and images of poverty, it now and then creates a
moment of odd beauty. For example, the protagonist persuades the Salvation Army
band to attempt some pop music for the poor folks they serve. In a bleak
clearing in the middle of the slum, as the band plays, some members of the
ragged audience rise and dance.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The genuine emotion in the film never spills over the
confines of its quirky structure, which serves to reinforce its depth and
meaning. Even the most comical words and gestures convey a calm sincerity, so
that when love blossoms in the Finnish slum, it seems as quiet, as real, and,
ultimately, as charming as the deadpan drollery of the characters.
ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย The Finns seem a far funnier people than any of the
travelogues or documentary accounts suggest; funny enough, in fact, to create a
propitious atmosphere for a most unusual movie.
The Man Without a Past, starring Markku Peltola and Kati Outinen; produced,
written, and directed by Aki Kaurismรคki. The Little.
You can hear George and his
movie reviews on WXXI-FM 91.5 Fridays at 7:15 a.m., rerun on Saturdays at 11:15
a.m.
This article appears in Jun 11-17, 2003.
