| |
The Man Without
a Past,
written and directed by Aki Kaurismäki
is the second part of his "Finland" trilogy. This
writer/director's films are all very short and " . .
. eccentric parodies of various genres . . . set to eclectic
soundtracks, typically based around 50s rock 'n' roll."
— Unknown. He has been quoted as saying, "Life is
too hard to bear and there is no hope for anyone." He
concentrates on that segment of Finnish society he calls "the
hidden people": the outcasts and the homeless and those
who simply don't fit in, by any society's standards. This
director is "glum, but optimistic" which is quite
apparent, at least in this particular film.
Kaurismäki
is known to have no rehearsals. Actors do one run-through
and then they're captured on film for good or ill. Their dialogue
is spare, dry, and to the point. (When one is living hand
to mouth, there are no soliloquies). In The
Man Without a Past, this certainly works advantageously,
because the audience is caught up in the immediacy of the
moment — in the raw here and now. We must remember what
John Lennon said: "Life has no pause button."
Kaurismäki's
titular character is beaten so badly by street thugs that
he loses his memory completely. Fortunately, he is befriended
by other so-called street people — a family who lives
in an abandoned sea freight container. There are other characters
who also give whatever little of themselves they have left.
The Salvation Army plays a prominent part and, in a very funny
scene, change the tenor of their "gig" to great
advantage.
The
movie does indeed have many life-embracing moments; the director
is never maudlin, and he allows light, even sidesplitting
bits to show through. Or rather, the actors do (upon whom
this director purposely puts the responsibility for most of
the directing: after all, we all are for the most part responsible
for the direction of our own individual lives, or at least
most of us should be). The "establishment" is shown
in its full, arrogant, "take no prisoners" mode,
but in such a way the audience almost (but not quite) feels
a modicum of pity.
All in all, a fresh,
positive, feel without any "Pollyanna" takes. The
"man" in a way is lucky — he doesn't have the
baggage of his past weighing him down, and because of this,
he triumphs on his own terms.
|
|
