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Så som i himmelen (2004)
A Heartwarming Exploration of the Power of Music
Through music, humans can express the yearnings of our souls and form deep bonds with those around us. Kay Pollack's Oscar nominated Film, As it is in Heaven, explores the power of music and the lasting effects it can have on a community. Despite the film's tired and overused plot line, it shines with complex, appealing characters and an exploration of both the relationships and the isolation the villagers feel among each other.
The film takes off running, and within the first ten minutes, Daniel (played by a brooding yet charming Michael Nyqvist) experiences childhood bullying, watches his mother die, becomes a world famous conductor, and has a heart attack while conducting in Milan. Thankfully, the movie slows down after this introduction, and Daniel settles into a quiet life in his old hometown to spend some time "listening". What follows is a standard formula–the town pastor, a fussy, sin-obsessed man, gives Daniel control over the ragtag band of villagers who make up the church choir. Daniel's passion to "create music that will open a person's heart" succeeds, and his arrival in the town triggers sweeping changes.
The film works due to its vivid characterization of individual members of the choir and their journeys to self-discovery once Daniel enables them to learn how to truly listen to themselves and each other. The choir, often acting as a group therapy session, enables the villagers (all a little broken in their own way) to reveal their secrets and frustrations.
A running theme throughout the film is that though the townspeople are incredibly close (in some cases, spending their entire lives together), they are often too apathetic or scared to address each other's clearly present problems. Arne has bullied Holmfrid for 35 years. Gabriella's husband (and Daniel's childhood bully) beats her everyday, but no one acknowledges it. The whole town knew about Lena's boyfriend and his adulterous behavior, but no one bothered to tell her. Music allows these characters to break their isolation and overcome these experiences. In one example, Gabriella's empowering solo in which she finally proclaims "my life is only mine," gives her the courage to finally leave her husband.
The villagers aren't the only ones who learn how to open up and love themselves–Daniel is affected as well. He begins to take down his self-imposed walls of isolation with the help of Lena. Their relationship is sweet and fairly innocent (though the fact that Daniel was considerably older than Lena was somewhat off putting). Lena aids Daniel in regaining the simple joys of childhood, such as riding a bike ("You're the one always talking about balance!" she teases). "Welcome home," she tells him, when he tearfully reveals that he was raised in the village.
The spiritual aspects of As it is in Heaven are not as prominent as the title may lead a viewer to believe. Early on, we listen in on a church service very focused on sin and flawed human nature, but it's a long time before anything overtly Christian is mentioned again. The most interesting insights into spirituality come from the women in the film. The empowering experiences in the choir cause Inger to reveal the secret belief she has harbored for 20 years: sin is an invention of the church that only exists in your head. "God doesn't forgive, don't you get that?" Inger says to her husband, the pastor, "Because He's never condemned." This confession rocks their already unstable marriage, and ultimately causes Inger to leave. The revelation seems somewhat out of place, mostly due to the lack of religion overall in the rest of the film. Its controversial implications are never brought up again outside the scene. There are some obvious (perhaps too obvious) Christian metaphors in the movie–the cross falls when Siv slams the door on the "sinful" choir, and the women tending to Daniel and wrapping him in white cloth after Conny beats him is reminiscent of the women tending to Jesus after the crucifixion.
Lena's contribution to the film's spirituality is more typical of her character's behavior. Lena is often portrayed as an angel throughout the film, bringing a vibrant joy to all her interactions. It makes sense when, near the end of the film, she asks Daniel, "Do you believe in angels? If I squint, sometimes I see their wings." Lena helps Daniel see the good in everyone, and instinctively reassures him about his fears of death. "There is no death," she tells him. And she's right. Though the film ends with Daniel's physical death (a predictable and somewhat melodramatic note, compared to the compelling realism present in the rest of the film), he lives on through the music he has created and the community he has built around it.
Efter brylluppet (2006)
After the Wedding: An Unexpectedly Touching Familial Drama
After the Wedding: An Unexpectedly Touching Familial Drama "Every acquaintance, every friend, every person who has a place in your heart, it is the time with them that really means something. Nothing else matters". These words, spoken by the masterfully played Jørgen (Rolf Lassgård), sum up the main message of the Danish, Oscar nominated film, After the Wedding. In the hands of a director less skilled than Susanne Bier, After the Wedding may come across as an overblown, soap opera-like melodrama. Instead, Bier uses these cutting emotional moments to develop her characters and their motivations. After the Wedding explores the relationships between wealth and poverty, what it means to be a family, and the individual's role in a larger picture.
The film opens with a stoic as ever Mads Mikkelson playing Jacob, the closed off but compassionate manager of an Indian orphanage. Jacob must face the grim reality that without proper funding, his beloved orphanage will close, and the only way to secure the money is for Jacob to travel back to Denmark to confer with a potential benefactor, Jørgen Lennart Hannson. Jørgen promises to consider funding the project–but only if Jacob agrees to attend his daughter's wedding the next day. Why did Jacob leave Denmark 20 years ago? Why is Jørgen orchestrating this event? "Too much fits together too well," comments Jørgen's wife (and as we soon find out, Jacob's ex-lover). The audience is inclined to agree. But what follows is a touching exploration of familial ties.
The initial scenes of Copenhagen provide a stark juxtaposition between Denmark's wealth and the abject poverty of Mumbai (all of the orphans could live comfortably in Jacob's hotel room). The audience instinctively sides with Jacob and his feelings of disgust with his own country. The bright colors of the city contrast with the poverty in which most of the residents live. But despite their lack of wealth, the community cares deeply for its members. Jacob has settled into a niche here, formed a cobbled together family with the young orphan Pramod, who he has raised since birth.
Initially, Jacob is loath to leave the warm family he has created, believing his home country to be full of disinterested and disingenuous people ("Is it because the houses are far apart that the people are far apart?" Pramod asks Jacob before he leaves). Things become far more muddled when Jacob discovers that he isn't as alone in Denmark as he thought, and the wedding to which he was invited is that of the daughter he never knew existed. But as Jacob begins to embrace his new family, his personal ties to India began to disintegrate. Perhaps most significant is when Jacob, instead of returning to Mumbai by Pramod's birthday as he promised, spends the time in Copenhagen, getting to know his biological daughter, Anna (a moment when they flip through her old photo album together is especially touching).
Jørgen, the man that Jacob instinctively despised, was the driving force that brought him and Anna together. Jørgen is at once dominant, manipulative, and as likable as he is infuriating. As the film progresses and we understand his motives, we began to sympathize more and more with him. Jørgen's character raises the question of how much money can buy. Can a person with money and ideals exist? "I'm buying remission for my sins," Jørgen says of his bargain with Jacob, a bargain that would force Jacob to remain in Denmark to serve as the patriarch of Jørgen's family. Though Jacob initially refuses, he begins to question his decision, especially when Anna finds herself lost and alone after her new husband cheats on her.
What is more important to a cause, a man, or his money? At one point, Jacob is even directly asked: "think of how many you could help, won't you sell yourself for that?" Ultimately, he does, and discovers that he is somewhat dispensable. Upon returning to India, Jacob invites Pramod to return with him to Denmark, but Pramod refuses. Things are looking up for the orphanage, and remaining in the now well functioning institution with all of his friends means more to him than beginning a new life with Jacob somewhere else.
My one complaint is that India seems to play more of a vibrant and exotic backdrop in the film more than anything more substantial. As soon as Jacob arrives in Denmark, it fades into the distance, save for the occasional glimpse of a sad eyed child on the video Jacob brought with him. A place that a person spent 20 years of their life building wouldn't disappear so easily. If the film had a few more scenes exploring the complexity of Jacob's cognitive dissonance and his ties to India, it would pack an even larger emotional punch.
Mies vailla menneisyyttä (2002)
A touching, yet bizarre, glimpse into the life of an amnesiac
A touching, yet bizarre, glimpse into the life of an amnesiac
Above all, The Man Without a Past, directed by Aki Kaurismaki, is an undeniably strange movie. A nuanced, minimalistic tale about the kindness of strangers and the small joys of a difficult life, this film is an acquired taste, but certainly one worth seeing.
The movie begins with The Man (played by Markku Peltola and henceforth to be referred to as M) stepping off his train and falling asleep on a park bench. He is then attacked by thugs, who steal all of his valuables and identifying information, before leaving him unconscious in a park, contents of his suitcase thrown on top of him. The hospital declares him dead ("of course he's dead, they wrapped his whole head in bandages, he can't breathe!" one of the other viewers exclaimed) but M has incredible resilience, and leaves the hospital, but not before resetting his broken nose (the whole audience screamed in disgust at this point).
We soon learn that M has amnesia, and cannot remember his job, his reason for being in the city, or even his name. And unfortunately, Finland does not seem to be kind to people with no names. Try as he might, without a name, M cannot get a job, open a bank account, or get out of jail, as he might somehow be a threat to the country.
The people on the outskirts of the city live in poverty, making homes out of old storage containers on a stony beach. But they make the most of the little that they have, sharing among the community. One such family finds M washed up on the beach and nurses him back to health, asking nothing in return. This kindness is casual, coming as naturally as breathing to the family. The people with the least end up doing the most to help M start a life.
Going out to dinner means visiting the Salvation Army soup line. It is here that M meets Irma (played by Kati Outinen), a stony faced but sweet Salvation Army worker, who shares his love for music. M and Irma's relationship is tender and innocent. In a touching scene, Irma spreads out her small makeup collection and inexpertly applies mascara before her date with M. At his home, he prepares her dinner ("I think it's ruined already," M says after Irma offers to help him cook) and they sit together listening to rock and roll on M's jukebox. Little chemistry seems to exist between the two characters, a man with no past and a woman who has spent her whole life being emotionally closed off, but somehow, that's part of the appeal.
While many films use amnesia as a tired plot device for a character to explore the mystery of his past, The Man Without a Past is just the opposite; M's amnesia presents an opportunity for rebirth. M brings life to this little, impoverished community, transforming the bland Salvation Army band into a rock band, even including the Salvation Army director as lead female vocalist. Watching M's new life unfold, we begin to realize that we don't want M to recover the past. But just as he begins to settle in, his former life comes calling back and he is forced to face his past life. M discovers the unhappiness of his former marriage, and apologizes to his ex-wife for the trouble he caused her. There's no big falling out or dramatic response (minus the strange, almost fight with the wife's new man over her honor). The interaction ends here, and M can return to his community in the city. We are happy for everyone: M, Irma, M's ex-wife, and even her new boyfriend. The film ends with a quiet sense of contentment.
As my first exposure to Finnish film, The Man Without a Past was a bit difficult for me to grasp. The movie is subtle, and deeply ironic. Those uninitiated to Nordic film may find themselves in over their head. The movie's somber moments are often interrupted by outbreaks of sheer absurdity. "Do you mind if I smoke?" M asks the bank teller he is trapped in a vault with, just moments after expressing concern about running out of oxygen (What a situation!). She responds, bizarrely, with, "Does a tree mourn its fallen leaves?" Overall dialog is oddly stilted and formal, as if read off a teleprompter, and the actors don't act so much as exist, save the moments where they are dramatically staring off into the distance. This dry playfulness may end up being lost on viewers who aren't used to such a style. The Man Without a Past most definitely is not for everyone. But, viewers who want a movie that will challenge their perceptions about film while leaving them strangely uplifted, Kaurismaki's romantic drama/comedy is worth watching.
Elling (2001)
Opposites Attract: Praise for Elling
What do you get when you force a diminutive, neurotic mama's boy and a hulking oaf are forced to live together by the Norwegian government? This is the basic premise of Petter Næss's film, Elling. The film begins with the titular character, played with convincing neuroticism by Per Christian Ellefsen, being released from the mental institution where he has lived during the two years following his mother's death. Despite its morbid sounding set-up, Elling is a surprisingly lighthearted film that stays on the side of heartwarming without ever becoming overly silly or sentimental.
Elling and his roommate, Kjell Bjarne (Sven Nordin), a giant interested primarily in food and sex, have been deemed ready to face the real world. The Norwegian government provides the pair an enviable, fully furnished apartment in Oslo in which to build their new life. They can keep the apartment on the condition that they make an effort to assimilate into normal life. This includes tasks that are seemingly mundane to us but panic inducing to Elling, including answering the phone and going around the corner to shop for groceries.
The film arouses a great empathy in viewers. Though probably not to Elling's extent, everyone has felt fearful in certain settings, even if those fears are irrational. When Elling experiences these moments, Næss uses the camera to put us in his shoes. As the phone in the apartment rings, Elling tries in vain to ignore it, but it overcome by dizziness. The camera rocks almost imperceptibly back and forth, as if we might be overcome with anxiety and fall to the ground with Elling. As Elling learns to conquer his fears, the spinning rooms and rocking camera movements subside.
Though they are pushed to action by the tough love of their social worker, Frank Asli, it is primarily Elling and Kjell Bjarne who comfort and encourage each other to grow and take risks. Kjell Bjarne feels little of Elling's fear towards the outside world. He expresses himself through his physical actions, without over thinking any process ("Kjell Bjarne seems to carry every person he meets
strange," Elling notes at one point). Where Kjell Bjarne is a man of few words, Elling is a chatterbox, and though he has trouble conveying it, he seems to possess a deep insight into the personalities of the people surrounding him. Though the two seem to have nothing in common, they form an intimate bond. One touching scene shows the two exchanging Christmas gifts: Kjell Bjarne has painstakingly constructed a model of their apartment out of thousands of matches for Elling, while Elling purchases a lewd watch with a woman on it for Kjell Bjarne ("How did you know I wanted the blonde?!" he exclaims gleefully).
As the film progresses, Elling and Kjell Bjarne develop into more independent individuals while still strengthening their friendship. When Kjell Bjarne finds their neighbor, Reidun, drunk, pregnant, and passed out in the stairwell, the two form a tentative yet tender relationship. Though this initially causes Elling to pout and react with jealousy, it enables him to learn how to deal with being alone, which in turn leads to his discovery of his true calling as a poet. After this empowering experience, Elling boldly addresses Kjell Bjarne and Reidun's insecurities about their blossoming relationship and pushes them together When Reidun expresses doubt about Kjell Bjarne ("He never says anything. He's so weird," she complains to Elling), Elling advocates for him ("I prefer the English expression: 'rare,'" he replies).
On an excursion to explore his new calling, Elling makes his first friend that wasn't forced upon him, an elderly writer named Alfons. Alfons, Elling, Kjell Bjarne and Reidun, each in their own way social outcasts, form an unlikely family, a support system to lean on. By the end of the film, Elling and Kjell Bjarne are not only on their way to becoming full independent members of society, but are actively benefiting the people around them.
Elling never truly delves into the darker side of mental illness, and Elling and Kjell Bjarne's diagnoses aren't explicitly revealed. Kjell Bjarne often bangs his head against the wall and has a hygiene problem, while Elling is incredibly anxious and agoraphobic, but none of these behaviors seem to warrant an extended stay in a mental institution. Do the pair truly have mental illnesses, or are they simply socially maladjusted? Whatever the case, the film never makes cheap jokes about mental illness or uses it as an excuse to dehumanize or stigmatize the characters. Rather, Elling finds its humor in the exploration of two characters with diametrically opposed viewpoints working in tandem to create better lives for themselves.