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Miesten vuoro (2010)
Real Stories and Real Steam
"Steam of Life" follows a grouping of Finnish men as they talk with their friends in the sauna. The process of the sauna gives the film its structure. Movements are replicated by one group of men after another with the similar ladles, colored buckets, tree branches and the brown beer bottles. These familiar ritualistic movements give the men the courage to discuss the emotions of their lives. They share the sadness, tragedies, loneliness, frustrations and some of their joys. As these naked men expose their inner emotions, the viewer comes to appreciate the goodness of the sauna.
The movie is interspersed with scenes of Finland. These scenes convey the beauty, but also the isolation of parts of Finland. While these scenes give the context of Finland, they also slow down the viewer. There are times in "Steam of Life" when the slow pace seems too slow. Yet, this seems purposeful as the interspersed scenes force the viewer to slow down and have patience. A proper sauna takes time. This time allows for people's stories. Perhaps even more importantly, it allows for real listening.
Loneliness is an overwhelming emotion for many of the men. Yet, the film doesn't lead the viewer into a downward spiral of emotion. The film is shot with a richness and warmth. The viewer can almost feel the comforting heat even in the bright white tiled sauna. This richness is also kind to the characters. Their physical flaws seem unimportant compared to the flush that the sauna brings to their face. The kindness of the camera's warmth encourages the viewer to listen with kindness. These naked men shed their outer identity allowing the viewer to focus on their humanity.
The ritual of the sauna brings warmth and cleanses. The physical warmth parallels the warmth shared between those in the sauna. The coldness of their exterior is gone. Yet, the sauna also cleanses from the inside out by creating sweat. Therefore the men's troubles come out in the open where the steam and the water help to lessen their grip. So after this ritualistic cleaning, the men leave with hearts, no less full, but less heavy. The parallel's of the men's stories with the sauna ritual provides the story with a uniquely Finnish structure. The message, however, is universal.
Throughout the film, there are examples of Finnish ingenuity. Charmingly, this ingenuity is illustrated by the variety of objects that have second lives as saunas. These include Teepees, combine harvesters, and phone booths. This ingenuity seems to reflect the Finish culture of survival in a physically tough land. Along with this ingenuity is also a sense of resilience. Despite hardships, Finish men survive. The time in the sauna is illustrated as an essential part of this resilience. It is the place where individuals emerge with renewed inner strength.
The role of the listener is that of simply a listener. These are not discussions, but instead narratives. Often listeners feel that they have to comment or contribute to the discussion. Yet, in these narratives it becomes clear that narratives need to be told not as objective stories, but as reflections of the individuals' own perspective. The listeners may have small roles, but they don't control the narrative and most importantly they don't feel compelled to interject into the narrative. Allowing the speaker to just tell their story is central to the movie. Their story is important and by extension so are they as individuals.
The movie cleverly illustrates the importance of how hard it is to listen well. The story of the grandfather chopping wood is a wonderful example. Many may have interpreted his frequent wood chopping as a way of getting out of the house away from his wife. Yet, in the end, we find that he was just trying to chop enough wood for her life after he had died. Strategically placed into the film, the viewer is again instructed on what it means to listen with an open mind.
Companionship is perhaps a more appropriate word for the way the men share their time in the sauna. Taking a sauna with a companion, balances out the cultural belief that a man should be able to manage everything himself. A reoccurring theme throughout the movie is the relief that the men feel upon sharing their stories with statements such as "it is good to talk" and "knowing you are not alone helps." Sauna's are not for making plans or solving problems, they are for sharing.
The men featured in "Steam of Life" differ in age, occupation, situation, health and ability. Yet, they are all illustrated as equally in their humanity. They are all given as much time as they need to tell their story. Their stories are equally important. Some seem to drag on which challenges the viewer to understand the importance of patient listening. By the end of the film, the story seems to be less about the men and more about the importance of how we choose to listen to others and how that listening brings meaning to their life. By the end of the film we are reminded that it is not good to live in isolation and that companionship, perhaps even for an orphaned bear, is good.
Låt den rätte komma in (2008)
A Great Movie Vampire Movie
The first view of Tom Alfredson's "Let the Right One In," is the most compelling. Alfredson creates suspense, not only from the plot, but also from his refusal to stick to one genre. The movie is a little bit horror film, drama, dark comedy, romance and even social commentary. The viewer believes that as the movie unfolds, the main element will become clear, but that never quite happens. By refusing to conform to a genre, Alfredson creates a sense of unease in the viewer that sets the film apart from the typical vampire story.
At first glance, Eli and Oskar's relationship seems like a romance. Yet, romance doesn't seem to fit their androgynous characteristics. While both characters reflect the paleness of the surrounding Scandinavian winter, their other physical characteristics seem to reflect the opposite sex. Oskar with his long white blonde hair, slight build and high pitched voice is more effeminate than Eli with her wild dark hair, surprisingly low voice and at times self assured nature (perhaps that is the result of being 12 for a very long time). Even the innocent first love element is contradicted by the violent nature of their secret. Oskar, who is not very successful in relationships, tries to place his new relationship with Eli into the social norms of "going steady" and blood brothers. Neither of theses attempts succeeds, as Eli is not really a girl or a child, but a vampire. The success of Alfredson's portrayal is that these defining characteristics do not prevent their relationship. They find their own language, including Morse code, and learn to accommodate each other. What is important is that together they are not quite as lonely or broken.
The tenderness of Eli and Oskar's relationship contrasts with the violent reality of Eli's existence and the anger within Oskar. While Oskar seems the harmless victim of bulling, he is also disturbed. He collects murder articles, fantasizes about his knife and admits to Eli that he would like to kill for revenge. Eli, on the other hand, tells Oskar that she has to kill to survive. Yet while Alfredson allows Eli to plead her case of necessity, he also allows Ginia to question Eli's choice of survival. Ginia surprises viewers by choosing her own destruction over existence as a vampire. Ginia, a character of limited importance, becomes the story's hero by making the conscious decision not to allow the violence to continue. As the story becomes a web of victims, the victims, such as Conny and Ginia's husband, become perpetrators of violence.
Violence is an unresolved issue in the movie. There is an acceptance and tolerance of violence. In Oskar's classroom, the police talk about a murder as if it is a trivia topic. Similarly when the first victim is killed no one seems to listen to the school's announcement about counselors. The man, with the cats, sees Eli kill, but doesn't want to talk to the police. By not calling the police he puts others including Ginia at risk. When Oskar hits Conny with the stick, his father ignores the incident. His mother simply worries about people saying he doesn't have a father. When Oskar saves Eli he allows her to kill Ginia's husband. It is confusing whether the Eli/Oskar partnership survives because they are willing to use violence to protect each other or if it survives because they are unable to process it fully.
Alfredson uses visually detail and sound not only to create the sense of mood, but also to provide structure to the film. He uses little segments that almost act like still pictures to create a sense of chapters. The effect is like when the curtains open in a play and there is a new set on stage. In contrast to the visually bleak Swedish suburb in winter, the music almost seems to convey hope and the idea of beauty surviving amongst ugliness. It is a wonderful and successful contrast. While Alfredson is so skillful at creating the structure and mood through detail, he is less successful at supporting the story through the vampire details. When Eli appears nude, she has a scar that seems to indicate that she was once a boy. It is easy to get distracted, wondering if there is a homosexual element or even how Eli can go to the bathroom. Similarly, the detail of having to be asked in before a vampire can enter creates distraction. The viewer wonders why this rule applies to certain spaces and not others. Alfredson uses some details so frequently that it seems as if he is poking fun at the vampire motif. This is especially true with the vampire noise, the blood left on Eli's face, the dripping sound and the bad smell. Certainly, his intent is a little unclear, but perhaps that is also part of his plan.
Alfredson leaves the viewer with more questions than answers. What type of story was he trying to tell? Who is Haskar? What is Haskar's relationship with Eli? Is Oskar's father's an alcoholic or is he gay? Was Ginia's husband abusive? Why is the one boy spared at the swimming pool? Is Oskar the new Haskar? Perhaps that is actually what Alfredson wanted to create. He leads the viewer through this story, but doesn't' provide all the answers so that the individual continues to wonder and question. In the end, maybe that haunting is a more effective form of horror.
Musta jää (2007)
A Strange Affair
In "Black Ice," Peter Kotwica ventures beyond his typical male lead to delve into the mind of a forty-year-old woman. Saara is not only beautiful, but also an accomplished surgeon. She is an idealization of the successful modern woman who has it all. Faced with her husband's affair, she acts like the surgeon she is, trying to fix the situation in a calculated and strategic manner. Her strong character and willingness to act sets her apart from what audiences often expect from a victim of infidelity. Kotwica's depiction of Saara benefits from the complexity of a personality that at the same time mixes dark feminine manipulation with the cold, intellect of a surgeon. So while Leo and his young student Tuuli initiate the action with their affair, it is Saara that takes control of the action. Saara's action jolts the audience, as such decisive action is something that would be more expected of a male than a female. At the same time, the way she uses her female characteristics makes her far more unsettling and deceitful than simple male anger. Kotwica has turned the typical love triange with two males competing for a female on its head. The development of Leo's character is less important because the movie is really about Saara and Tuuli. Both characters have strengths and areas that they control. The dangerousness of Saara is that she is able to use both her and Tuuli's strengths to her advantage. For instance, Saara allows herself to be Tuuli's judo student. There is certainly dark humor in that Tuuli is teaching Saara about power, strategic fighting and self-defense. These are all the mental attributes that Saara brings to the story. The point of the love triangle falls apart even before Leo's death as the drama becomes the line between the two women. Much of the films dramatic tension comes from the idea of black ice. Subconsciously furthered by the cold Finnish winter, there is an underlying feeling that Saara has put her foot on the accelerator and may not be able to control everything she has put into motion. Yet Saara proves to be a far more skilled driver than the others. Leo, in contrast, seems unable to steer his own life meaningfully. It turns out that when faced with events that require him to commit, such as becoming engaged or facing fatherhood, he responds through infidelity, betraying his superficial commitment. Likewise, Tuuli naively steps into Saara's car of friendship. Shot in cool blue tones, the viewer remains unsettled throughout the film. As the film progresses, Kotwica increasingly frames the shots with surgical precision. This leads the viewer to increasingly disconnect from the characters as Saraa's actions become more like a surgeon than a wife. Through desaturation, Kotwica reminds viewers that in the story it is always a figurative winter with dangers from both the cold and ice. Even Saara cannot control the cold and ice. It is the interaction of her actions with the cold and ice that leads to Leo's death. Yet, Saara continues to control the action to the end. As a surgeon, she saves Tuuli and her unborn child, ironic in that Tuuli wanted an abortion. So, Tuuli is figuratively still a passenger in Saara's car. Saara has turned from a modern woman full of life and accomplishment to the Snow Queen of Narnia and it is hard to tell that simply from the outside. That is why "Black Ice" makes your hair stand up just a little. Saara's character makes the viewer distrustful of what they see and this blurs the line between fiction and reality. Outi Maenpaa, Ria Kataja and Martti Suosalo reinforce this feeling without overacting. They allow awkward moments to be simply awkward and that make the performance feel real. Even in the end, Kotwica refuses to lead us to a proper end. It seems like it should be a fable with a purposeful end and yet the end just seems like reality. Ice isn't black and yet there is black ice.
Hawaii, Oslo (2004)
Aloha from Oslo
In his 2004 film, Hawaii, Oslo, Norwegian director Erik Poppe and screenplay writer Harald Rosennlow Eeg, explore the idea of the redemptive nature of compassion and love. The film drops the viewer into a kaleidoscope of individuals, set into motion in both the world of dreams and reality. Just as Leon compulsively runs, the movie moves towards a conclusion that seems unchangeable. Yet, individual's choices do change the outcomes. These individual choices reflect love and compassion through the themes of paradise, the guardian angel and the value of individual life. As the film closes, there is no clear resolution. The viewer does not know whether the baby will live, the mother will overcome her depression to raise her children or if Leon will be able to develop his relationship with Asa and live outside of the institution. Yet, the viewer is hopeful because all of the characters witnessing Vidar's death have all experienced the possibilities of healing through love and compassion.
Hawaii and Oslo evoke different ideas of paradise. Hawaii is a physical paradise that juxtaposes Oslo's long winter. Ironically the action takes place during a heat wave when the temperature in Oslo is similar to average temperatures in Hawaii. Oslo reflects the social paradise of a socialist democracy underwritten by great financial resources. Leon is a beneficiary of such as system and the viewer notices how well he is treated while in institutionalized care. Yet, like the heat bothering Vidar, we glimpse the limits of such ideas of paradise. Physical institutions cannot replace humanity. Throughout the film, institutions fail individuals. Socialized medicine cannot support an "ethically irresponsible" unproven operation for the baby, the bank lender cannot go outside the rules of assets and the boys must be separated for foster homes. So, while paradise cannot be built either in socialist Norway or the tropical climate of Hawaii, individuals have the power to save each other.
The idea of the guardian angel weaves itself throughout the story. The guardian angel is idealized in the characters of Vidar and the newspaper delivery girl. They both acknowledge their special roles when Vidar states to the girl, "You aren't
who you say you are." In return she states, "Neither are you." Vidar represents the idea of selfless love. He is the one that teaches Leon to love so that in the end Leon can say, "I love you." As Leon picks up the white feather, he directly calls Vidar his guardian angel. Yet, Vidar is ultimately not only his guardian angel, but also the one who sacrifices himself for all the others. With obvious Biblical references, Vidar tells the other male patient that what he does to Leon, he also does to him. The role of the newspaper girl is subtler. She provides compassion. She cares enough to check and the overdosed woman, to sing and provide comfort at the funeral and finally to hug the older boy when no one else can. Neither Vidar, nor the newspaper girl, develop through the story. Yet, they act as catalysts that propel other characters' development. The ambulance driver once again physically saves the overdosed woman, but through Vidar's urging, he goes beyond his job in order to help her become a mother again. Because he has done this, the mother is able to step forward to help her sons. Asa, who saved Leon from the wave machine, looks to Leon to restore her hope in the world. Leon, who was unable to say, "I love you," takes the gift of love from Vidar and is able to embrace Asa. Lastly Frode is able to give hope to his wife after she can no longer save their child through the connection of the umbilical cords. Frode sums up the kaleidoscope of connections when he recalls their first meeting. " I said without me you were a star with no place in the sky, but it's the other way around." In Hawaii, Oslo, Poppe and Eeg emphasize that human connections are much like the kaleidoscope: unpredictable, circular and interdependent.
Throughout the film, there is a disconcerting idea of institutions being responsible for valuing or instilling the value of life. Trygve, unchanged by his prison sentence, rejects love and compassion for self-interest. Trygve's actions set into place the ultimate tragedy of the story, Vidar's self sacrifice. First, when the paramedic attempts to save the woman dying on the bank floor, Trygve kicks the paramedic off of the woman. The resulting wound impairs the ambulance drive's sight leading to the accident. Second, Trygve's pusuit of Leon in search of the money leads to Leon's flight into the dark streets. Trygve never acts with regard to other human life, but belittles life in pursuit of his own false ideals of paradise. Perhaps influenced by its own institutionalized optimism, the prison's negligence in releasing Trygve costs Vidar his life. Similarly, the viewer is disturbed by the value placed upon the infant's life by the hospital system. Frode directly attacks the doctors by asking, "Who gets to decide who lives." The movie challenges us to question whether an infant, the mentally ill or the orphaned are any less valuable than ourselves and why we allow institutions to define who is or who should be saved.
As the characters gather around Vidar's body, the viewer is reminded that these characters keep walking by each other throughout the movie. Just as they are part of a community, we all form a larger community. Leon's poster asks Asa, "do you remember me?." Similarly the older boy's graffiti says, "I am." Hawaii, Oslo is a poignant reminder that our humanity is not simply who we are, but the sum of how we interact with each other. While institutions can improve life, they cannot provide what every individual needs, compassion and love.