Outside of capturing a very particular side of the American Dream, there is something that both Loudon Wainwright III and Tennessee Williams have in common: they both created works that centre around the concept of a “slapstick tragedy”. There are a few examples of works that truly embody this seemingly contradictory concept, but not many of them tend to be all that effective at capturing both sides of the oxymoron. However, the person that I believe has come closest, at least in terms of continuously doing something remarkable, is Aki Kaurismäki – for decades, he has been working laboriously to make films that are perfect encapsulations of his perspective on the human condition, crafting tragicomic masterpieces that stand as some of the greatest films ever made. Yet, it is perhaps his most recent film that best conveys this strange tendency, with Fallen Leaves (Finnish: Kuolleet lehdet) being one of the most remarkable, concise and meaningful films of the year. Telling the story of two working-class individuals that find each other by chance and realize that they are meant for one another, despite the obstacles that stand in their way, the film is an astonishing examination of loneliness and romance, and how these may seem like contradictory ideas (much like the concept of a slapstick tragedy), but surprisingly work together in tandem to be even more engaging and outrageously funny than many of us may have expected, which is a terrific surprise and one of the several reasons we have to appreciate what this film is doing, as well as its manner of telling this story, which proves Kaurismäki’s indelible impact on cinema, and reminds us that he is one of our true masters, an auteur whose compassion and distinct visual style work together to create an absolutely extraordinary, deeply sentimental journey into the lives of two people who genuinely believed they would be alone for life, but realize that life still contains a few surprises, should they be willing to take note as they appear over the course of their daily routine.

Simplicity has always been the driving force behind Kaurismäki’s work, which is detailed and well-constructed, but defined by a genuine curiosity more than anything else, which manifests in these intimate but stunning beautiful stories of the human condition, as seen through the eyes of genuinely very interesting people. Fallen Leaves is a film about those people who are almost invisible – they work important but unimpressive jobs, and their lives are not any more notable. Yet, under the director’s guidance, they are shown to be absolutely remarkable, and we forge meaningful connections with these characters. This is a film about two profoundly lonely people who find each other and struggle to maintain whatever brief spark they may have since despite their differences, there is a strong connection that comes about, enough to help them see a future with one another from their very first interaction. Kaurismäki playfully explores common tropes of the romantic comedy, prodding and provoking certain ideas that are not at all controversial, but still stir up enough thought and a genuine emotional reaction to feel genuine and earnest, which is just another aspect of this film that warrants our attention, especially in how it captures the zeitgeist in interesting ways. It seems as if these characters are suspended in time – the calendars say 2024, but they watch films from various decades in the cinema and listen to music that feels plucked straight out of the future. The only consistent aspect of their interactions is their sincere, undying devotion to not necessarily each other (as they barely know one another as people), but rather the emotions that come about when they are together, which are more than enough to get these steadfast and stubborn individuals to be willing to change to suit the other person, granted it isn’t an immediate decision, nor does it come about without some form of resistance. Romance has never seemed quite as complex and moving as it did under Kaurismäki’s direction, which has always been about plumbing the depths of the human condition and exploring the results, which are extremely compelling and always quite unique.

Fallen Leaves is intrinsically tied to the director’s Proletariat Trilogy, which started with Shadows in Paradise – this was not his first film, but it was the one that pioneered his distinctive style of combining miserabilist dark humour with genuine pathos, something that would continue for most of his career, with only occasional deviations from this formula. It has worked remarkably well for him, because as we have often seen, despite structural and tonal similarities, each one of these films is starkly different, even within this trilogy. Kaurismäki pays a lot of attention to detail in these films – they are his most deeply moving because they have the most emotional resonance. The key to their success is that they are far more interested in the smaller details of the human condition more than conveying a much broader message – the director has always had a firm grasp on the socio-cultural pulse throughout his career (even in this film, there is a sense of awareness for the current state of the film – there are incidental but notable references to contemporary issues, which are woven together to create a very moving depiction of the modern world), but his focus is squarely on the more intimate details, which manifest through this growing romance between two people who seem destined for one another, but yet somehow cannot fully realize their love, since misfortune and interpersonal conflict prevents them from actually surrendering to those urges, a fascinating choice made by the director, who has occasionally crafted these romantic comedies in which the characters have a more difficult time than usual falling in love, which is an intriguing manner of exploring these themes, and something that he has mastered with precision and dedication, Fallen Leaves being a perfect example of his cinematic mastery in practice, as well as his ability to create something absolutely memorable without exerting too much force, instead resulting in a beautifully sweet and endearing comedy about very sad people finding hope in the places that they least expected.

Comparison can sometimes be the death of art, especially when contrasting a film with a director’s earlier work, since there is a tendency to diminish one or the other. In the case of Kaurismäki, it isn’t so much a matter of comparing his work as it is finding common threads that connect them, which is an invigorating and fascinating process. Fallen Leaves is almost directly in dialogue with Shadows in Paradise, which contains a very similar story of two working-class individuals falling in love with one another, despite the odds. These are romantic comedies set in supermarkets, factories and squalid bars, which are all extremely beautiful, if only as stages for these growing relationships. However, its not the setting nor the script that makes Fallen Leaves so extraordinary, but rather the performances –  Alma Pöysti and Jussi Vatanen clearly inherit these archetypal characters from Matti Pellonpää and Kati Outinen from the earlier film, and despite having different names and varying in personality, these are cut from the same cloth, which is a smart decision as it allows the director to explore how such characters would exist in the modern world. Even taken on their own, the performances in Fallen Leaves are extraordinary – Pöysti is truly magnetic, her extraordinary expressivity and wonderful attention to the details that underpin her characters being remarkable and deeply moving, while Vatanen is stoic but heartfelt as the man struggling with his own personal demons, which manifest in alcoholism and brief spurts of erratic behaviour, which he views as a necessary escape more than a personal flaw. Kaurismäki refuses to exploit these eccentricities, but manages to craft something deeply meaningful and compelling, which is always a wonderful experience, especially for a filmmaker who has always shown a remarkable attention to detail in ways that we do not always expect when it comes to developing the characters at the heart of his stories, which come about through a careful and methodical series of moments between the director and his actors as they go in pursuit of the deeper truths beneath these characters.

There seems to be very little reason to spend much time waxing poetic about Kaurismäki, who has more than earned his place in the canon of global cinema and has never needed to prove himself as a master. Yet, he is the most humble and humanistic of contemporary European auteurs, so every new film that he makes tends to contain those same extraordinary qualities that we find in his early work. Fallen Leaves may be his final film, if only because he has been adamant in his intention to retire for the better part of a decade now (in the same amount of time having crafted masterful films like the present film and The Other Side of Hope, the latter being reported as the film on which he intended to end his career after nearly forty years as a working director) – and only time will tell, as he might choose to step away from filmmaking altogether, or allow inspiration to strike him once again in the future. In either instance, Fallen Leaves remains one of his most extraordinary achievements, a simple and evocative romantic comedy with broad overtures of melodrama and the slightest hint of social satire embedded deep within the fabric of this film. It seems extremely appropriate, and perhaps slightly melancholic, that Kaurismäki’s final film may be a mirror image of his first successful project, since it often feels as if the two films exist in dialogue with one another, touching on almost identical themes, just separated by nearly forty years. It’s a wonderful film – heartfelt, funny and deeply moving in ways that we may not always anticipate, but welcome with nothing but the most sincere appreciation for its authenticity and genuine sense of heartfulness. A quietly resilient and unquestionably moving film, Fallen Leaves is yet another reminder of Kaurismäki’s undeniable genius and neverending compassion, two traits that have worked in tandem to establish him as one of our greatest living filmmakers.