Filmmakers being in conversation with each other’s works is natural, desirable and often, a lot of fun to watch. However, like any other literary/artistic device it runs the risk of rampant, commercialized overuse. In today’s franchise-led era it is used more often than not in service of a facile sense of continuity, of a ‘shared universe’ no matter what the artistic costs may be.
Luckily, in skilled hands, filmmakers having a sense of history still pays off handsomely — and no amount of mega-corporation productions can change that about the medium. I was reminded of this powerfully during a beautiful night-at-the-movies sequence in Finnish director Aki Kaurismaki’s latest, Fallen Leaves, now streaming in India on Mubi (and on Mubi’s channel on Amazon Prime Video). A deceptively straightforward romantic comedy involving star-crossed lovers, this is Kaurismaki’s 20th full-length feature, which won the Jury Prize last year at Cannes.
Lives under capitalism as zombie-existence
In the aforementioned movie-going sequence, our two protagonists — an alcoholic, melancholy man named Holappa (Jussi Vatanen) and an overworked, conscientious woman named Ansa (Alma Pöysti) — are at the movies. Until now we have only seen these two people suffering the ravages of contemporary capitalism.
He works a series of punishing, dead-end construction gigs while she works at a corrupt supermarket that routinely sells expired food to its customers. Finally, the two of them are given a moment of peace and levity at the movies — will they hit it off or will their baggage come in the way? (This is pretty much the entire plot of the film; Kaurismaki’s films defy conventional screenwriting expectations).
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They watch The Dead Don’t Die, the 2019 absurdist zombie invasion comedy (starring Bill Murray and Adam Driver), directed by Kaurismaki’s old friend and artistic brother-in-arms, Jim Jarmusch. At the end of the film, Ansa says that she hasn’t laughed this much in ages. It’s a typically bittersweet moment from Kaurismaki, whose movies are full of mild-mannered stoics who tend to be better at endurance than they are at embracing hard-fought slivers of happiness.
Ansa’s encounter with vibrant, life-affirming colour comes in the second half, when she is wearing a lively turquoise overcoat while meeting Chaplin, a friendly, yellow-coloured dog she adopts — this is, significantly, one of the first moments we see Ansa smiling and relaxed.
The fact that she found the gory zombie invasion hilarious is part of the point — Kaurismaki and Jarmusch share a certain bleak flair for introducing absurdism into everyday situations. But what’s even more remarkable is the subtext and how well it blends in with the world these two people live in. Ansa and Holappa look at their own lives under modern-day capitalism as a kind of zombie-existence. This is signaled loud and clear throughout the film’s 80-minute runtime in a variety of ways.
Kaurismaki’s minimalist visual vocabulary
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In an early scene, we see Holappa reluctantly getting ready for a night out in town — he checks out his own surly face in a shattered mirror, his reflection looking like something out of a Cubist portrait. In a later scene, Holappa is drunk and passed out on a bench at a bus stop, where a group of teenagers is rifling through his pockets, disappointed at the meagre results. Ansa quietly checks Holappa’s pulse, seats him upright on the bench so he doesn’t choke on his own vomit and then quietly leaves on the next bus.
This visual is one of the best and most poignant moments in the film — a barely-lit Ansa unsure whether to leave, looking at Holappa as the bus starts, inevitably, to move away from the scene-of-the-crime. This is the modern-day equivalent of a frequently-seen moment from films set in previous centuries; the farewell scene at the docks when one or more characters set sail for a foreign land.
In this case, of course, Ansa is going back home, which for her is every bit as ‘alien’ and unsettling, not least because she’s unsure of Holappa’s fate or indeed, whether they will meet again (by this point in the film, the two do not know each other’s names and have no way of contacting each other).
Kaurismaki’s visual style is spare and minimalist to the point of occasional stodginess when he’s not on his A-game. No such concerns for Fallen Leaves, however. This is his best film since his mid-career purple patch in the late 80s and early 90s, when he made such idiosyncratic masterpieces like Ariel (1988), Leningrad Cowboys Go America (1989) and La Vie de bohème (1992). A close reading of Fallen Leaves reveals it to be a kind of culmination of several of Kaurismaki’s pet themes from this phase in his career.
The colour of hope
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The most prominent among these themes and motifs, of course, is Kaurismaki’s clear-eyed, compassionate depiction of the life of proletarian characters, in films like Shadows in Paradise (1986) and The Match Factory Girl (1990). The latter, in particular, is a kind of spiritual predecessor, almost, to Fallen Leaves. Its protagonist Iris (Kati Outinen, one of the director’s frequent collaborators) is very much in the same mould as Ansa.
Both of them are quiet, unobtrusive young women working punishing jobs in a ‘post-industrial’ landscape. Both of them have rich inner lives that they keep well-hidden from the rest of the world. Besides, Iris and Ansa both share one very important feature that the two films take pains to highlight prominently — their relationship with loud, vibrant colours that stand in sharp contrast to their otherwise drab lives dominated by shades of grey.
Fifteen minutes into The Match Factory Girl, we see Iris wearing a bright pink dress that she clearly likes. Her mother reacts with inordinate anger, telling her that she looks like a prostitute but Iris refuses to listen and goes to a nightclub wearing the dress, a signal that she will live life on her own terms.
In Fallen Leaves, Ansa’s encounter with vibrant, life-affirming colour comes in the second half, when she is wearing a similarly lively turquoise overcoat while meeting Chaplin, a friendly, yellow-coloured dog she adopts — this is, significantly, one of the first moments we see Ansa smiling and relaxed. Colour bestowed upon these grayscale lives is Kaurismaki’s way of giving these characters hope.
For Kaurismaki fans, Fallen Leaves is the logical endpoint of some key storytelling strands from his career. And for newcomers it is the perfect introduction to the pleasures of this unique artist.
‘The Penguin Lessons’ dodges schmaltz and finds genuine warmth—thanks in large part to Steve Coogan’s dry wit and one tenacious bird. Image by Andrea Resmini/Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
Here’s an unexpected charmer, a true story based on a popular autobiographical memoir about a man and a penguin, with a lightness of tone that doesn’t overdo the whimsy. The excellent Steve Coogan plays Tom Michell, a cynical and disillusioned British writer and scholar who accepted a job in 1976 teaching proper English, poetry and soccer in an upscale boys’ prep school in Buenos Aires at the height of Argentina’s postwar military dictatorship. Intelligently directed by Peter Cattaneo, the man best remembered for The Full Monty, the stressful anecdotes Michell endures make the job of winning over both the unruly, rebellious students and the stern, humorless headmaster (Jonathan Pryce) a taxing challenge.
THE PENGUIN LESSONS ★★★(3.5/4 stars) Directed by: Peter Cattaneo Written by: Jeff Pope, Tom Michell Starring: Steve Coogan, Jonathan Pryce, David Herrero, Björn Gustafsson Running time: 111 mins.
Relief arrives at last when he escapes for some fun and games on a drunken weekend visit to Uruguay, where so many surviving Nazis settled after World War Two. His planned debauchery with a local tart fails, but things pick up when Michell accidentally rescues a penguin from a near-fatal oil slick, and the little bird repays him by following him halfway across South America. The poor English teacher, who hates birds and has no need for a pet anyway, is stuck with a feathered friend he can’t get rid of. It wins him over like a Disney duck in spite of himself, and I’m willing to bet the same thing happens to you.
The students and the professor name the wonky newcomer Juan Salvador and waste no time staging a forbidden animal adoption. All understandable when the penguin displays real characteristics. He smells, he poops everywhere, prefers sausagy mashed potatoes and gravy to sardines and delights in hanging out with the soccer team. In the anecdotal passages adapted from Michell’s best-selling memoir by screenwriter Jeff Pope, nothing goes wrong. By contrasting the lurking horrors of political upheaval in a time when the Argentine government was ruled by fascism with the trust and courage the kids learn from Juan Salvador’s innocence and trust, there’s a valuable history lesson here beneficial to younger audiences. Despite the danger of G-rated sentimentality, which everyone involved heroically avoids, The Penguin Lessons is a work of surprising depth and subtle, irresistible impact. Lionel Barrymore famously said there are two things no actor can share the screen with and hope to survive: children and Lassie. Now amend that warning to three: children, Lassie and a penguin.
There’s a real element of surprise within Eric Larue, the directorial debut of actor Michael Shannon. Given the nature of the story and his efforts in front of the camera, something incredibly intense would not have been a shock. So, to have this film be so much more of an observational character study is a wonderful little surprise. Shannon takes a premise that won’t have audiences immediately come running an crafters a movie that’s incredibly appealing, especially for its central performance.
Eric Larue has a very soft touch, which is a welcome aspect of this drama, which has no shortage of emotions on display. The restraint helps put the focus on Judy Greer in the lead role, which is great considering how impeccable her work is. Shannon and Greer are working beautifully in concert with each other, leading to moving cinema on a small yet impactful scale.
Magnolia Pictures
Janice LaRue (Greer) is coping, or at least trying to cope, with something no mother should ever have to. Her son Eric has murdered three of his high school classmates, sending a ripple of anger, confusion, and pain throughout her town. Janice appears almost catatonic on the outside, going through life in a haze. On the inside, however, she’s dealing with the same things as everyone else, only magnified. While her husband Ron (Alexander Skarsgård) has found comfort and even hope at a new church, Janice finds it hard to do the same. Her faith is not offering her solace, despite her pastor Steve Calhan (Paul Sparks) encouraging her to come to services, as well as to potentially meet with the mothers of Eric’s victims.
As Janice deals with everyday life, pondering what that meeting could achieve for her and the town, Ron is over at Redeemer, a church led by Bill Verne (Tracy Letts) and offering a friendship, as well as perhaps more, with co-worker Lisa (Allison Pill). He’s on his own journey, while Janice can’t even go back to work without harassment, as well as her manager suggesting she’s less than welcome. Through it all, we observe grief, the limits of faith, and the human experience on the whole.
Magnolia Pictures
Judy Greer has rarely been better than she is here, turning in a quietly devastating performance. So few filmmakers give her this sort of opportunity, so she more than makes the most of it. There’s a ton of observing her facial expressions, or sometimes the lack thereof one, and she absolutely runs with it. It’s impeccable work. Alexander Skarsgård is all but unrecognizable, playing smaller and more timid than I’ve ever seen from him before. Skarsgård is very good, as are Tracy Letts, Allison Pill, and Paul Sparks in supporting roles. Smaller supporting players include Kate Arrington, Jennifer Engstrom, Lawrence Grimm, Nation Sage Henrikson, Annie Parisse, and more, but Greer is the star of the show.
Director Michael Shannon, making his filmmaking debut, takes Brett Neveu‘s play (Neveu also penned the adaptation) and makes an immediate impression behind the camera. There’s curiosity and empathy on display, trusting his audience not to make any of the themes too obvious. Shannon also has brilliant casting across the board, with everyone feeling perfect for their parts, led by Greer’s staggering turn. Shannon has a soft touch and a natural feel for character studies, so whatever he chooses to make next, I am 100% seated for it.
Eric Larue is not always an easy watch, and in fact can be pretty touch at times, but it never overwhelms you. Those curious about Michael Shannon’s director chops, as well as those who have been yearning to see Judy Greer in a starring role, you’d do well to seek this one out. It will stay with you long after the credits roll.
Premiering on Prime Video on March 27th, ‘Holland’ is proof that even a potentially compelling concept and a decent cast can be squandered if the movie utilizing them doesn’t commit fully.
It’s a shame, as director Mimi Cave has made impressive work before. Here, though she seems to have lost her way with a meandering tale of suburban secrets.
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It’s a rule that if your community and relationship in a thriller is apparently perfect on the surface, there must be dark secrets lurking beneath. After all, who really wants to sit through a story where it’s all apple pie and happy families?
Yet we’ve seen the story of suburban secrets so many times on screens both big and small that a movie really has to have something fresh to say about it. Unfortunately, even though Cave delivered with her previous movie, the cannibalistic comedy ‘Fresh,’ there’s not much of that spirit here.
In fact, there’s not much of any spirit. A movie riven by a split in its personality, the first half is a funny and sometimes entertaining look at a town and a relationship seemingly lost in time –– it’s set in the year 2000, but could be the 1960s for all its folksy traditionalism. The second half pulls the trigger on the thriller element as Nicole Kidman’s Nancy starts to learn the truth of who she’s married to, but even then the movie wants to keep up the jokier elements and the two tones really aren’t merged successfully.
Writer Andrew Sodroski has experience more in TV, creating a season of ‘Manhunt’ based around the Unabomber. His movie credits are mostly limited to a couple of crime thrillers. The problem with his scripting for ‘Holland’ is that it feels aimless –– for a movie whose main characters are a life skills teacher who prides herself on her cooking, the storyline is underbaked, and the other an optometrist, it’s noticeable how unfocused the characterization turns out.
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It’s also an issue that the use of model train sets as metaphor for the control that one character has over another is so heavily employed as to approach parody. It’s one thing to employ a metaphor; quite another to beat it into the ground.
Cave does her best to bring some style to the proceedings; a dream sequence where Nancy imagines strange images such as her neighbors becoming mannequins and a flood sweeping through the town’s main street are effective, but the rest of the movie never achieves the same level of creepiness.
There are missed opportunities here and sadly, the movie fails to really coalesce.
Nicole Kidman has spent the last few years mostly playing icy matriarchs, entitled wealthy housewives or driven businesswomen and if there’s an advantage to ‘Holland,’ it’s that she is able to once more tap into a kookier, sweeter character, albeit one who is not afraid to fight back when it counts.
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She’s typically impressive, but the character doesn’t always offer her everything she needs, and it’s ultimately nowhere near as memorable as some of her other work.
Matthew Macfadyen, meanwhile, leans into the twin sides of Nancy’s husband Vandergroot –– at once the nerdy, seemingly sweet local ophthalmologist who brought her from a dead-end small town existence to this seemingly perfect existence and someone who is going to great lengths to conceal things (even if he leaves giant clues in his model train set up, a seemingly silly idea for someone with so much to hide).
He’s perfectly fine in the role, creepy when required and forever telling Nancy to just ignore what she’s worried about. But once the truth is revealed, the character becomes far more one-note.
Gael García Bernal plays Dave Delgado, Nancy’s closest confidante at the school where they both work, and a man who would like their relationship to be more. Bernal brings some solid shades to the character, and has a good arc.
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Elsewhere, there is some truly wasted talent on display. Though he certainly has a couple of decent scenes to show what he can do, young Jude Hill (who broke out in Ken Branagh’s ‘Belfast’) is here reduced to minor moments as the couple’s son, Harry.
Ditto Rachel Sennott, so good in the likes of ‘Shiva Baby’ and ‘Bottoms’ has exactly one tiny scene at the start of the movie to show what she can do, but it wasn’t even worth her showing up.
The other townsfolk are mostly limited to plot devices rather than actual humans, but the likes of Lennon Parham, Jeff Pope and Chris Witaske do what they can with tiny roles.
‘Holland’ certainly has ideas on its mind, but sadly those ideas have been explored more effectively before. There’s not enough style or story here to really make it worth your while.
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“Some things only look perfect.”
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R1 hr 48 minMar 27th, 2025
What is the plot of ‘Holland’?
A teacher (Nicole Kidman) in a small midwestern town suspects her husband (Matthew Macfadyen) of living a double life, but things may be worse than she initially imagined.
