A gang (consisting of a group of men all named Frank, and then later an additional member named Pekka, all of which seem to lack last names) meets in an abandoned building and begin outlining a plan for their upcoming escape from working-class Helsinki, which they are intending to complete within a few hours, given the right circumstances. Their destination is the seaside hamlet of Eira, which they plan to reach by taking advantage of the country’s supposed network of underground tunnels. However, they soon discover that plotting such an escape is much easier than executing it, as the moment they set the plans into motion, they encounter various obstacles that stand in their way and prevent them from accomplishing it quite as smoothly as they envisioned. This is the premise for Calamari Union, the second narrative directorial outing of Finland’s greatest director, Aki Kaurismäki (following his acclaimed, loose adaptation of Crime and Punishment), who shifts away from tense social realist drama and embraces the absurdity of a different kind of reality, one that veers much closer to what he would focus on in later years. A brilliant forerunner to films like Leningrad Cowboys Go America, which still maintaining a level of complexity that has come to be definitive of his work, the director embraces the surreal and deranged as he constructs this wonderfully off-kilter comedy that is as hilarious as it provocative, granted it requires the viewer to actively engage with the material beyond the surface, challenging ourselves to have our perspective slightly tweaked by this unorthodox but wonderfully eccentric comedy that firmly established Kaurismäki as an essential voice right from the very start, and someone whose cinematic voice is powerful, particularly in how he challenges conventions in creative and daring ways.

As is often the case with everything that Kaurismäki has made throughout his career, Calamari Union has a strong concept that may not be clear at the start, but gradually and methodically becomes clearer and more notable as the film progresses. Naturally, this is a slight understatement, because there is always something deeper lurking beneath the surface, but taken for what it is at the start, there are still intriguing ideas for those who don’t want to engage with the underlying themes, or may not have the knowledge required to pick up on some of these smaller cues. Kaurismäki makes films about the working class trying to escape, whether it be physically finding a home where pastures are seemingly greener, or undergoing some psychological shift that allows them to view the surrounding world differently. This film is one that focuses on both, following a group of individuals who are in the process of some kind of exodus out of their middle class neighbourhood with their sights set on the more welcoming shores of another town, while also doing their best to flee the working-class malaise that has been pre-programmed into their minds, and which prove to be unexpectedly difficult to eradicate, only being possible through sheer psychological brute force. This does make Calamari Union sound much more serious than it is, but one of the defining traits of Kaurismäki’s cinema is his refusal to follow traditions, and even something as dense and complex in concept can be executed through a more uplifting, entertaining manner, which is precisely the case with this film and the quality that makes it immediately stand out as a fascinating artwork in itself.

The approach Kaurismäki takes when crafting Calamari Union is truly original, and shows his voice as being one that is not only defined by his bespoke talents, but also driven by a genuine fondness for cinema. The film is a wonderful tribute to American film, particularly the hardboiled film noir genre that is so quintessentially a product of the United States, but influenced many international artists that found their style being shaped by this revolutionary style of storytelling. Unlike directors such as Jean-Luc Godard and Pietro Germi (two of a countless number of examples of directors inspired by traditional film noir), Kaurismäki was not entirely enamoured with the idea of cohesive storytelling, at least in terms of the plot mechanics. His methods were clear – take a simple premise (which is already absurd in itself based on some of the smaller details, such as character names) and filter it through a surreal lens, drawing on both the common aspects of the genre and making it entirely his own, a push-and-pull of tropes and ideas that immediately establish this film as something quite daring, even if it is slightly simplistic. Filmed in gritty black-and-white, Kaurismäki sets out to capture a different side of his native Helsinki, showing it as a perfectly pleasant city, albeit one that can be understandably frustrating for those who yearn for a more exciting life. The slower, more paced way of existence is not something that these characters enjoy, which necessitates their eventual attempts at escape – and the deeply unconventional manner of filmmaking proves what the director was intending to say, supporting his ideas without outright changing them, a small but meaningful distinction that we find defines this film and gives it a very distinct shape that is quite unlike anything we have seen before or since.

Part of the impact made by Calamari Union is found in its use of an ensemble, which Kaurismäki constructs by cobbling together a motley crew of notable faces in Finnish culture, primarily drawn from the music scene. The director’s first foray into film direction was a concert film The Saimaa Gesture, which makes sense considering how so much of his early career was based around music (as well as the aforementioned Leningrad Cowboys Go America, his first international success), and which has guided so much of his later career. This film is a true ensemble effort, with no one actor standing out above the others. This is partially a way of preventing any of these performers from having to be seen as the de facto lead and thus have to deliver complex performances, which is a result of a cast consisting almost entirely of musicians rather than trained actors – but its a choice that yields positive results, since the wide range of personalities allows each of these individuals to immediately have clearly defined traits and personas, drawn from their distinct quirks, and therefore alleviating the director of the need to write fifteen unique characters, complete with backstories and bespoke characteristics. As usual, some familiar actors would persist throughout Kaurismäki’s body of work – the always wonderful Matti Pellonpää plays the sole rebel not named Frank (and is unsurprisingly one of the few professional actors, which is made even more evident by his wonderful performance), as well as Sakke Järvenpää (from the Leningrad Cowboys), Timo Eränkö and Sakari Kuosmanen, who are just a few people who join Kaurismäki as he ventures into the realm of the absurd, being undeniably interesting protagonists that anchor this film without distracting from the ambition that drives it forward.

Perhaps not the most appropriate entry-point for beginning with the director and his remarkably unique style, Calamari Union is nonetheless a terrific film filled to the brim with fantastic ideas that manifest in unexpected ways, which has always been a celebrated quality of Kaurismäki and his work. It will be most appealing to those who are already accustomed to his authorial voice, particularly his stark, often brash cynicism that is underlined by an elusive sense of hope that is interminable but still very much something that the characters are seeking to make their own. If nothing else, the film is worth seeking out solely for the sake of seeing how he captures Helsinki – no one has ever been able to present an image of a city with as much charm and skepticism as Kaurismäki, who adores the capital but has reservations about glamorizing what he views as just another ordinary city, defined by a class system that no one quite understands and filled with unique stories, each one worth telling. It’s an early effort from the director, since his style was still developing and he hadn’t quite gotten a handle on the storytelling angle just yet, but its audacity is what keeps us engaged and interested, each new aspect of the film being exciting and enthralling in its unique way. Daring but never too ambitious to lose sight of its intentions, Calamari Union is an excellent blend of social realism and absurdism, a pairing that has rarely been more effective than when placed in the hands of a director with a clear and concise sense of time and place, which is ultimately what defines and guides this film forward.