Ansa (Alma Pöysti) is a lonely grocery store worker who is let go from her job when she allows someone to take some of the expired merchandise home with them instead of throwing it out.  Holappa (Jussi Vatanen) is a laborer who struggles to hold a job given his alcoholism.  The two meet by chance one night at a karaoke bar, but just as easily, things get in the way that keeps them apart, each fearing the other has lost interest. 

Aki Kaurismäki writes and directs Fallen Leaves, or Kuolleet lehdet in its native Finnish, a ships-in-the-night romance that runs a brief 81 minutes yet packs a real punch.  Premiering at the Cannes Film Festival where it was awarded the Jury Prize, the film was later submitted to represent Finland at the 96th Academy Awards and received theatrical and streaming distribution from Mubi in many international markets. 

The film can best be described as a fine piece of artisanal chocolate; a little sweet, a little bitter; a little portion so as not to overwhelm and exhaust the palate.  It is quirky, inhabited by characters that feel lifted from a mumblecore romance, though thankfully with much better diction and annunciation.  That same quirkiness overflows into the colors and set layouts.  The palate leans heavily on the primary colors – red, blue, and yellow – and it gives the film a unique, wistful feeling which also allows the stark blacks and whites to really shine through and punctuate the images.  Further, the interior locations oftentimes feel like sets and Kaurismäki is not trying to hide it.  Even if they are practical locations, he directs Timo Salminen to shoot it in such a way that it gives off a sense of artifice, but again it just teeters on the edge as it is not done in a way to trick the audience into thinking they are seeing a stage play nor is it the same artifice seen in a soap opera sound stage.  If it was not so meticulously curated, it would be muddy, but Kaurismäki is working with the same precision of production as Wes Anderson, Yorgos Lanthimos, or any of the more eccentric auteurs known for their bold, signature style. 

The strange visual style flows into the overall setting of the film, too, which is uniquely difficult to pin down when in time Fallen Leaves takes place.  There are plenty of clues, but a consensus is never arrived at.  There is a 2024 calendar on the wall.  Ansa is often found listening to the news on her dial radio about Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.  Technology is relatively nonexistent; Ansa rents an older laptop at the store and it is not until close to the end of the film that cell phones make their first appearance.  Lastly, the cinema where the two meet for their date has all the posters indicating that they are a classic repertoire theatre, yet they are watching Jim Jarmusch’s The Dead Don’t Die (2019).  All of these elements are explainable and can still place the setting of the film in its production year of 2023, but that it can also be called into question is clearly purposeful.  Fallen Leaves unfolds like a dream in how hazy its settings and locations are, but importantly, it does not operate with any kind of dream logic.  The characters’ actions can be interrogated endlessly, but the problems that arise all come from the small innocent mistakes that we all make so it is more a tragic twist of fate than poor and nonsensical decision-making that fuels the plot. 

As far as the romance goes, your mileage may vary.  The two foster a strange chemistry between them that fits the overall tone of the film but is not the big sweeping romance that normally occupies the attention of screenwriters.  These are just two lonely people who bump into each other, and through some small talk, they find threads that bring them closer until one of them – normally, Holappa – does something that puts it all in jeopardy.  It is not a fairytale by any means, but it is not totally unbelievable, either.  It operates somewhere in this strange grey area where we want to see them find a happily ever after because they are framed by the narrative to fall in love with each other, but Kaurismäki’s script still makes this a very hard pill to swallow because while Ansa does seem lonely and to find some enrichment in her life with Holappa, Holappa seems to be putting in very minimal effort.  This is not a case of rekindling a lost love, rather, it is trying to build a relationship simply because the materials are present, and while we do delight in Ansa cooking a dinner for them to share in her flat, there is overall very little for us to latch on to.  It will be sad for it to fall apart, but Ansa is a woman who only owns one plate and set of cutleries – and even that is new – so to see her settle for Holappa feels more painful than a victory. 

No matter if you fall in love with the idea of Ansa and Holappa or if you remain questioning, Fallen Leaves is a charming little film that goes down easy and does not overstay its welcome.  Its scenes are structured almost like vignettes more so than a flowing narrative, so the make-believe production design feels at home in this just-off-of-center reproduction of the world.  Looking at these choices individually, or even looking at them complied together, it is wild that the film works as well as it does.  Sweet without being saccharine, melancholic without being depressing, Fallen Leaves is a bit of an enigma as it unfolds, but it welcomes audiences in with a warm embrace as we follow these two lost and rambling souls bump up against each other as they strive to form a connection.