The set-up of Le Havre could not help
but prepare us all for a tale of hard lessons: “How do I overcome a
system that will do everything in its power to seize the illegal
immigrant in my protection?” Shit's gonna get harrowing. And yet,
this is how it goes down:
-Every character did the right thing
without even questioning it.
-For every obstacle there was a fairly
straightforward solution, and every character effortlessly summons
the resources to transcend it.
-Everyone just keeps giving each other
a break, without betraying even a twinge of self-interest...oh yeah, and
everything works out in the end.
-People don't even die when they're
supposed to. The final scene could not have been a better culmination of Kaurismaki's alternate universe. A touching, but almost mocking inversion of our
expectations.
Every corner of the film provoked
expectations of darker tidings. And we felt a cynical bunch, sitting
there blue in the balls for the pathos that never came. It all felt
a little cheeky on the Finnish master's part, especially as a gesture
to anyone familiar with his work. My memories of his films go as
follows:
-Characters cannot seem to do the right thing ever.
-With every obstacle, characters get
deeper into the shit and are not even given a chance to transcend the absolutely fungal hand they are dealt.
-Character's punishment continues
beyond what is normally considered narratively just and you wonder
when this ruthless bastard of an auteur is going to give them a
break.
-People die when they don't even have
to.
So you can imagine an audience just
sitting there either bewildered or in waiting for the other shoe to
drop and rain down some good old familiar tragedy and hardship onto
this little fairy tale. After all, most films, not just ones from
sun-deprived Finnish minds, involve some sort of struggle. Did he
change medications? Is this a different angle on some kind of
subversiveness? Or is Kaurimaki just reminding us of the simple
pleasures of a film: “Things could work out like this, right?
Wouldn't it be nice if they did?”
The passing of the film's events
probably wouldn't seem so striking if it was an all-the-way comedy.
Kaurismaki, after all, also trades in the “dark satire” markets
of storytelling. Yet the film only attempts to be cutely humorous.
And yet it's also not even that sentimental. Right off the tone is
more mannered than that of say The Visitor's (which is my rushed
example of the story's American equivalent; a wonderful film that
couldn't help but end tragically).
There is stagedness to Le Havre, which
lends itself to the fantastical nature of its story. Characters
enter scenes purposefully, as though on cue. They speak in
announcements, trying to reach the viewer at the back of the room
even though they're mic'd and rendered polyphonic by any given
venue's surround sound. The pace of the film is determined but even,
maintaining the demeanour of someone taking a stroll, head up and
still enjoying all the charms around them. A calm remains at its
core, and its many lapses into silence provide some beautiful moments
of breath and contemplation.
The whole thing smacks of the modern
transcendentalists (i.e. Abbas Kiarostami, Hirokazu Koreeda, and
apparently every director from Taiwan), more direct in approach, but
not without an enigmatic sense of wonder. Best enjoyed on an
overcast day. Bring a cup of tea and some good karma. (Puppy,
optional).
*I have since learned that Rotten
Tomatoes has been re-printing critiques from the time of a classic
film's release. It's one “thumbs down” was from a 1942 Time Magazine article, made available in their online archive and thus
thrusting it into “Tomatometer Scale” relevance. The film seems
to be a pass with contemporary critics, thank god.
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