The concept of opposites attracting has been the foundation of a lot of romantic films over the years, especially those designed to be slightly more comedic in nature, since there’s very few topics simultaneously funny and heartfelt than two very unique individuals overcoming their differences and falling in love with one another, which gives hope to those who are patiently waiting for their soulmate. This is the starting-point for Dolly and Her Lover (Finnish: Räpsy & Dolly eli Pariisi odottaa), in which we encounter the titular Dolly, a former cabaret singer on the wrong end of middle age, and her lover, a former convict who has recently been released from prison, and is intent on making an honest living for himself, but very soon finds himself resorting to the same manipulative tricks that got him incarcerated in the first place. Written and directed by Matti Ijäs, one of the more under-discussed directors from this era of Finnish cinema, at least in comparison to filmmakers like Aki Kaurismäki and Lauri Nurkse, to whom he is often compared (which is unfortunately inevitable when dealing with a country with a relatively small film industry in comparison to some of its peers), the film is a fascinating and well-crafted comedy that contains many elements that make it clear why Finland has proven to be an artistic sanctuary for those with slightly more off-kilter tastes, since the off-the-wall scenarios, coupled with the dense, complex but undeniably entertaining miserabilist humour that the Scandinavians have perfected, make for profoundly captivating viewing. It may not be the director’s defining work, but it is, at the very least, entertaining for the amount of time we spend with these characters, which makes for a charming 90 minutes of upbeat, heartfelt storytelling that may not be perfect, but never once strived to be anything more than wholeheartedly enjoyable.

Regardless of genre or style of filmmaking, story is always going to be an important part of any film (even those experimental films without plots use the lack of a narrative as their foundation), but some filmmakers tend to view it as being slightly less integral in comparison to other components. The only way to feasibly take this approach without creating narrative pandemonium is to emphasise some other aspect of the film to compensate for a slightly weaker story. In the case of Dolly and Her Lover, the atmosphere is what drives the film – there isn’t much of a plot in the traditional sense. The film is composed of a series of vignettes featuring the main characters, and they are loosely connected. It’s not entirely disjointed, and the narrative flows together relatively well, but for the most part, the film is a series of fluid moments that work together but don’t really form a cohesive, conventionally structured story. To compensate for this, the director experiments with genre – Dolly and Her Lover exists somewhere between a quirky romantic comedy and a dense, complex crime thriller, and not in the sense that they work together or influence each other, but rather that one scene will have a lighter, more effervescent tone, while the one that follows will be gritty and bleak. The oscillation between the two can create some confusion or at least instil a sense of artistic whiplash in the viewer, but it ultimately does seem to be serving some purpose, even if only marginally. It isn’t always the smartest decision to craft a film that is almost entirely driven by its tone, but the sheer ambition that went into this film implies that it is entirely possible to do so and still produce something worth watching.

Dolly and Her Lover is crafted as a character study, and we find ourselves introduced to the two central individuals whose stories intersect and become the foundation of the film. Matti Pellonpää, who was one of the greatest actors in the history of Finnish cinema (and one of the regular collaborators with Kaurismäki), plays the recently-released convict whose efforts to go straight are almost immediately squandered when he realizes it is easier to be crooked and take advantage of the gullible than it is to work hard to earn an honest living. He was a wonderful actor, and his evocative use of emotions, coupled with his distinct appearance, made him the perfect candidate for these slightly mysterious everyman characters, which helped in elevating this performance and making it far less one-dimensional than it may have been in the hands of another actor. Acting across from him is veteran actor Raija Paalanen, who portrays Dolly, our tragic heroine who is simply seeking a quiet life with a man she can love, which results in her eventually falling victim to her future partner’s tricks, as she meets every criterion to be a victim of his manipulation. Despite playing two very harsh characters, both Paalanen and Pellonpää are wonderfully endearing, bringing such class and elegance to a seemingly simple film – and while it may not quite reach the level of complexity that we may hope for, they both deliver solid, striking performances that match the tone of the film, and help guide us through this challenging and unconventional world.

There isn’t much to be said about Dolly and Her Lover – it is a very simple film that takes a straightforward story, travelling between narrative beats without attempting to reinvent the genre or do anything we haven’t seen before. This is essentially the reason why it feels like such a solid and reliable film, albeit one that is not interesting. We have to wonder whether or not there was more that could have been done with this film in terms of how it shapes its narrative – objectively, it is very well-written and its manner of playing with genre is worth some credit, but it is overall a relatively simple affair, and struggles to maintain our attention after a while. It may be extremely short, running at under 90 minutes, so there was certainly some room to add further exposition to help us understand these characters, or at least flesh them out in a way that feels genuine and compelling, rather than being quite one-dimensional in how it approaches their various quandaries and existential curiosities. Yet, it’s not entirely wasteful, and it manages to be quite endearing. The humour is extremely deadpan, to the point where we start to wonder whether or not some of these scenes are supposed to be funny, and the story itself is extremely scattered in a way that is not always very convincing. Yet, it still delivers what it promises, and proves to be a lovely little film that may not reach the heights of some other films produced in Finland around this time, but still offers us something special, even if it takes some time for us to entirely understand what it was intending to achieve.