In preparation for my first trip to Finland, I acquainted myself with the work of their most acclaimed filmmaker, Aki Kaurismäki (sadly not the director I met in the bar). His films, like The Match Factory Girl and The Man Without a Past, were so unremittingly morose they made Bergman look like Mr. Bean. A typical Kaurismäki film presents a cast of, essentially, gargoyles, who toil in wretched jobs (coal mining, dishwashing), exchange grunts, and drink heroically. Eventually some of them shoot themselves to death. The end. This would appear to mirror their auteur’s outlook on life: “I more or
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