Jubilee Films for Pilgrims of Hope: 'Fallen Leaves'

By Fr. Greg Apparcel, CSP

“Fallen Leaves,” a 2023 film by Finnish director Aki Kaurismaki, tells the story of Ansa (Alma Poysti) and Holappa (Jussi Vatanen), two lonely people who, through a circuitous route, somehow find each other.  Though it has serious overtones, the humor is as dry as it gets but I found myself laughing out loud several times.  This was surprising as the film is full of very depressed non-smiling people who listen to the tragic news of the Russian invasion of Ukraine.  And when that gets to be too much, they switch to a music station that plays songs with the most depressing lyrics.

Ansa and Holappa meet cute (sort of) at a Karaoke bar.  Holappa’s friend Huotari sings with a deep baritone voice and thinks he’s the greatest.  Ansa’s friend Liisa tells him his voice is well preserved for such an old man and of course, he’s insulted.  During this exchange, Ansa looks across the room at Holappa and their eyes meet, but nothing much happens.

Holappa hates his job and Ansa loses her job stocking food in a market after she takes home a sandwich that’s past its expiration date.  She gets another lifeless job as a dishwasher at the California Pub.  Holappa just drinks.  A lot.  He tells his friend, “I’m depressed because I drink.”  “Why do you drink?”  “Because I’m depressed.”

At the pub, as the owner is arrested for dealing drugs, Ansa recognizes Holappa outside.  He invites her out for coffee and then to the cinema.  They see Jim Jarmusch’s “The Dead Don’t Die,” a zombie comedy with Adam Driver and Bill Murray.  A man outside says, “Great film.  It reminded me of Bresson’s ‘Diary of a Country Priest.”  This is one of the many one-liners that made laugh out loud.  Ansa tells Holappa, “There’s no way the cops could have handled that many zombies.”  “Did you like it?” he asks.  Without smiling she says, “I never laughed so much.”  She gives him her number but not her name.  He puts it in his pocket but, unbeknownst to him, it blows away when he takes out his cigarettes.

On the radio Russia strikes Ukraine again and Holappa can’t find Ansa’s number.  She waits for the call that never comes.  The background music is sad and depressing.  Holappa waits outside the cinema hoping she’ll be there.  After he goes, Ansa comes by and sees his cigarette stubs.

At work, Holappa has an accident and he’s accused of being drunk, which he is.  After he’s fired, he and Huotari have a few drinks at the Karaoke Bar.  “Remember that night? He asks.  “There were two women... I met the smaller one later.  We almost got married.  I lost her number.” Huotari says that they worked at some supermarket.  “All I remember is the other woman said I wasn’t good enough.” They drink some more.

Ansa gets another job and listens to depressing news and then music with lyrics like “In the early morning rain, with an aching heart and my pockets full of sand; hardly know where I am.  I miss my loved one, in the early morning rain.”

Holappa too gets another job mixing cement.  He wait outside the cinema again and Ansa comes by.  “You never called,” she says. “I lost your number,” he responds. “I’ve been looking for you.” She invites him to her apartment for dinner the next night.  “Give me your address.”  “Why would I?  You will lose it!” With a deadpan reading of these lines, this conversation is really funny, sealed by Holappa making a show of putting Ansa’s address in his coat pocket and zipping it shut.  “Don’t get robbed,” she says.

For the dinner, Ansa buys an extra plate and silverware and a small bottle of sparkling wine.  He brings flowers.  They eat quietly.  He downs the wine in one gulp and wants more.  They listen to more bad news about Ukraine on the radio.  “Bloody war,” she says and turns it off.  And here’s the turning point which eventually leads to a conversion of hearts.  Ansa sees him secretly take a swig of liquor from the bottle in his coat.  “My father died of drinking,” she says.  “So did my brother.  My mother died of grief.  I won’t drink.”  He responds, “I won’t take orders,” and walks out.  Holappa now goes down a black hole as his drinking continues until he reaches rock bottom.  He’s fired again for drinking on the job and ends up sleeping on a park bench.

Ansa adopts a little dog that makes her smile.  She has someone to care for.  At yet another depressing bar, a girl band sings, “Don’t know if I can make it to my grave . . .I like you but I can’t stand myself.”  Holappa is there listening, but not drinking.  He goes back to his pensione and dumps his liquor down the sink and throws away the bottles.

Days, maybe weeks later, it’s autumn and leaves are falling in the park.  Time passes and Holappa calls Ansa.  “I’m sober as a desert rat,” he tells her. “What changed your mind?”  “You did.”

What follows is another twist and turn, but I won’t give away the ending.  What I loved about this movie, besides the dry humor and the subtly delicious acting, is that even with these depressed, lonely people, there is hope that they will be drawn together and save each other.  They lose each other, they find each other, they lose each other again and somehow work their way back into a relationship.  Of course, the film ends with the song, “Autumn Leaves” with these lyrics, “Since you went away the days grow long, and soon I’ll hear old winter’s song.  But I miss you most of all, my darling, when autumn leaves start to fall.”  It wasn’t Nat King Cole’s version, but it’s touching, nonetheless.  I now want to see more of Aki Kaurismaki’s films, such as “Drifting Clouds,” “The Man Without a Past,” “Le Havre,” and “The Other Side of Hope.” I imagine the style of humor and the sense of hope may be the same as I experienced in “Fallen Leaves.”