Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö (1990)

After the success of his 1988 film "Ariel", Finnish director Aki Kaurismäki produced the movie that would gave him international recognition: "Leningrad Cowboys Go America". A bizarre road movie about the misadventures of a Russian rock band in America, "Leningrad Cowboys Go America" would become a landmark in Kaurismäki's career. However, after this success, Kaurismäki decided to return to the themes he had previously explored in "Varjoja paratiisissa" and "Ariel", the stories of the underdogs, the losers, the dispossessed members of the working class who struggle everyday in the coldness of Helsinki to find something close to happiness. Titled "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" and released in 1990, the movie completed a thematic trilogy along "Varjoja paratiisissa" and "Ariel", which is now known as "The Proletariat Trilogy". Nevertheless, while similar, "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" is a bit different to the other two films, as it's one of Aki Kaurismäki's darker films.

"Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" or "The Match Factory Girl", is the story of Iris (Kati Outinen), a young lonely woman living a dull and monotonous life in Helsinki. Working at a dead-end job in a match factory, and supporting her uncaring mother (Elina Salo) and her forbidding stepfather (Esko Nikkari), whom she gives most of her meager salary. There's little joy in Iris' life, who spends her free time reading cheap novels and attending to nightclubs, hoping to meet the man of her dreams. Unfortunately, this never happens, and her social life is a disaster. One day she saves enough money to buy herself a new dress, much to the displeasure of her family who wants her to return it. Iris keeps it anyways and goes out, finally finding a dance partner in Aarne (Vesa Vierikko). They spend the night together, though Aarne thinks she is a prostitute and their relationship doesn't end well. When Iris finds out that she's pregnant, things get even worse, but she is also read to take revenge on the world.

While covering the same themes and obsessions as the other two films in the "Proletariat Trilogy", "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" represents a notorious break in terms of tone, as this time, Kaurismäki's trademark brand of dry comedy is downplayed and leaves room to a truly bleak and depressive tragedy. Like other Kaurismäki's anti-heroes, Iris lives with an iron-clad stoicism, facing the constant abuses from the people around her. However, for Iris there is no love or hope to inspire her, as the world seems to pretend that she doesn't exist. As if she was just another machine in the match factory, her life passes day after day in the same monotonous pattern. Heartlessness is common in Iris' world, and yet, amidst the big atmosphere of melancholy and despair, there are still brief glimpses of Kaurismäki's deadpan humor through the film. His comedy is not absent in "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö", just hidden, waiting to deliver a masterful lesson in irony that's the icing of the bleak cake that is "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö".

The dialog in "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" is minimal, yet remarkably efficient. Everything that needs to be said is said, not a single line is wasted, and if images alone can tell the story, then so be it. It is certainly a case of "less is more", a supreme triumph of simplicity in storytelling, as the minimalist approach Kaurismäki employs, as cold and distant it may look, surprisingly proves to be no less expressive than flashier visual styles. This minimalism, that Kaurismäki had been perfecting with each work, can finally be seen at its best in "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö", which reveals the Finnish director as a master of composition. With sparse camera movements, Kaurismäki conceives a visual narrative that's as efficient as it is economical, making of "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" to be almost a purely visual tale. The work of cinematographer Timo Salminen, Kaurismäki's regular collaborator is worthy of praise, as he captures the bleak gray world of Iris' Helsinki with realism and a certain degree of tragic beauty.

Yey, as remarkable as Kaurismäki's work of directing is, a huge part of the triumph of "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" is due to the effective performance of Kaurismäki's muse Kati Outinen as the match factory girl, Iris. In role completely different to the one she played in "Varjoja paratiisissa", Outinen truly creates a haunting portrayal of a tragic woman. With subtle gestures and deeply expressive eyes, Outinen says a lot with her silence, and in that expressive silence, she makes Iris to stand for every abused women, regardless of nationality. Perhaps even for every abused people, regardless of sex. As Aarne, Vesa Vierikko is equally great, making a painfully realist character that could had easily been nothing more than a mere archetype. In fact, most characters in the film could had been mere archetypes if it wasn't for the actors who play them. Case in point, Elina Salo and Esko Nikkari, who play Iris' parents. Particularly Esko Nikkari offers a remarkable performance that, like the film itself, says a lot in very few lines.

While certainly "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" offers a colder and darker vision compared to his previous films, Kaurismäki still remains a humanist in "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö", as while the film showcases a series of humiliations that Iris survives with naive stoicism, there is never a hint of miserabilism in the treatment. It's all frank and honest in its portrayal, something that could be seen as distant and harsh on Kaurismäki's part, but that it's actually a compassionate view without any trace of artificial dignity. This becomes clear as Iris begins to plot her revenge. Kaurismäki's dispossessed ones are never examples of "nobility in poverty" and in fact, Iris' tragedy slowly begins to show its true colors as a Kaurismäki comedy. The blackest, the bleakest, the most depressive and melancholic one, but a comedy at heart. The comedic turn that this tragedy makes is not a cheap one, it's not a betrayal to the tone set by the rest of the film, it's more like Kaurismäki's bittersweet irony raising up a wry smile.

Somber, depressive, yet powerfully evocative, Aki Kaurismäki's third part of the so-called "Proletariat Trilogy" may be a difficult film to watch, but it's certainly one that leaves a strong impression. "Tulitikkutehtaan tyttö" of "The Match Factory Girl", bears all the trademarks of a Kaurismäki minimalist film taken to the max: sparse dialog, slow rhythm, minimal camera movement. Everything is there, as a final statement of his thoughts about the reality of Finland's underdogs as he sees it. It's a harsh view, but an objective one. void of cheap romanticism, Kaurismäki's view on the dispossessed is, despite all the bleakness, a humanist one. Certainly the fate of Iris, the match factory girl is hard. But for a moment, she may be able to raise a smile.

8/10
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Häxan (1922)

In the early days of cinema, Danish film industry flourished with great success, beginning with the founding in 1906 of Nordisk Films Kompagni, the country's first filmmaking company. In five years, Denmark was now competing against the American, French and German film industries in the European market. This was the Golden Age of Danish Cinema, where figures such as actress Asta Nielsen and director Carl Theodor Dreyer began their careers. In those days, a young actor named Benjamin Christensen began his career in the film industry, and soon found himself beginning a career as a director as well. While by 1914 the Golden Age was reaching its end, Christensen still found some success with his two first films. In 1918, Christensen found a copy of the "Malleus Maleficarum", the book that inquisitors used as guide to deal with witches. Inspired by the horrors and superstition of the middle ages, Christensen conceived a film about how the misunderstanding of mental illness could lead to the infamous witch-hunts. The result was a legendary film: "Häxan".

Combining different documentary techniques such as slideshow and dramatization of events, "Häxan" ("Witch", though the film is also called in English "Witchcraft through the Ages"), examines the history of witchcraft during the Middle Ages, detailing the practices of witches and the ideas about them and demons that inquisitors of the time had. This is done initially with illustrations, paintings and intertitles, even a large scale model of the medieval view of the solar system is employed. Later, a dramatization takes place depicting several vignettes that cover several superstitions about witches. In these dramatizations we see a coven of witches, a black mass, and a group of monks being terrorized by the Devil (played by Christensen himself). Later, "Häxan" takes the form of a narrative fiction, in which an old woman (Maren Pedersen) is accused of witchcraft and her trial at the Inquisition is shown. In the final part Christensen shows vignettes about what his thesis: that mental illness was misunderstood as witchcraft in the Middle Ages.

Written by Christensen himself, "Häxan" is at the same time a serious documentary and a horror film, fusing both reality and fiction to construct what could be considered as one of the earliest examples of a film essay. The script, result of a big work of research on Christensen's part, is highly informative and does a great job in describing the beliefs and superstitions regarding witchcraft in the Middle Ages; certainly, Christensen knew his subject well, and the dramatizations, while definitely aimed to shock the audience, have a certain degree of authenticity (considering the knowledge available at the time of its release, of course). Christensen's fictional narrative is also quite good, well structured and faithful to historical records, or well, as faithful as it can be to suit Christensen's purpose. As a film essay, "Häxan" elaborates on a point, with each scene building up on Christensen's thesis on witchcraft and insanity; and while it's certainly an interesting observation, the director is a tad heavy handed on the repeated exposition of his point of view.

Where "Häxan" truly shines is in the remarkable way that Christensen built up the whole thing, displaying a level of originality that made the film unique. Documentaries were nothing new in 1922 (after all, cinema began with documentaries), but way Christensen employed the very diverse techniques to create his movie was so unusual that even today the film escapes a proper classification. It is a documentary that explores a complete new way to pose a topic. As written above, it's more a film essay on the topic of witchcraft than a documentary per se; so to elaborate on his morbid subject, Christensen conceived vignettes of shocking horror to truly portray witchcraft the way inquisitors saw it. The enormous amount of care done in the art design (Richard Louw), and the remarkable work of cinematography (by Johan Ankerstjerne) result in a powerfully atmospheric movie, one with a beauty so mesmerizing that truly seems like arisen from the depths of the Hell it depicts. At the time, it was the most expensive Danish film, and it shows.

Benjamin Christensen conceives pretty amazing set pieces that rival those of German Expressionism in their dark, ominous atmosphere. The cast does a great job as well, even when several were not professional actors (including Maren Pedersen, arguably the protagonist of the core dramatization). It's interesting to find Danish filmmaker Alice O'Fredericks as a nun, role she played on the film besides working as Christensen's script supervisor. In general, Christensen's level of care in his production is a testament of the interest he had in the theme. And perhaps this interest also explains what could be considered as one of the film's flaws: Christensen's narrative seems to ramble over its points a tad too much for its own good, resulting in a very slow rhythm that can be tiring at times. It's worth to point out that in 1968 the film was cut to 77 minutes for a re-release, with an added narration by author William S. Burroughs. It is this version the one that got the title "Witchcraft through the Ages". It's an interesting curiosity, though in no way an improvement over Christensen's vision.

Haunting, sombre, and visually beautiful, "Häxan" proved to be a controversial film because of its depictions of nudity and violence; however, director Benjamin Christensen managed to keep his vision almost intact and the result was one of the most unique and strange movies ever made. Half documentary, half horror film, "Häxan" showcases a collection of unforgettable images that can be disturbing and beautiful at the same time. The images of hell, the black mass, and the remarkable interrogation scenes (that may have given an idea or two to Carl Theodor Dreyer) are a testament of Benjamin Christensen's talent. Unfortunately, most of his films seem to be lost (at this moment), but at least "Häxan" survives to posterity as one of the earliest and most amazing film essays ever done.

8/10
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Watch "Häxan" (1922) at Cult Reviews.

Naboer (2005) @ Cult Reviews!

From time to time, the really cool website Cult Reviews invites me to contribute the site with a review, and once again I have written a piece that just recently got published there; this time for "Naboer" (2005), director Pål Sletaune's contribution to the horror filmography of his native Norway. Keeping up the good work in their dedication to the weird, the strange and the shocking of cinema, chief reviewers Vomitron and Perfesser Deviant continue bringing up reviews, interviews and information about the beloved horror genre, making Cult Reviews the site to go to satisfy that interest on the dark side of cinema. As for "Naboer", it's a terrific example of the new generation of Norwegian horror, in which director Sletaune has crafted a claustrophobic, suffocating atmosphere inside an apartment where bizarre things happen. If your first though was "Polanski" then you are on the right track about the kind of horror Sletaune attempts in "Naboer", though on a decidedly more sexual vein. To know more on it, check out the post at Cult Reviews.

Like my previous contribution, "Due Occhi Diabolici", this review of "Naboer" is part of a series of posts dedicated to the Mr. Horror Presents DVD collection. Known as the foremost horror guru of The Netherlands and Belgium, Jan Doense has built up his reputation as a horror film critic due to his constant work supporting horror filmmaking. Par tof this efforts have been the Amsterdam Fantastic Film Festival (formerly The Weekend of Terror) for example. In his “Mr. Horror Presents” label, Doense releases on DVD a collection of his personal recommendations, modern horror classics that had no previous release on the Benelux countries, but that definitely deserve a watch. In my personal opinion, this effort is quite worth of recognition, as while one may agree or disagree with Doense's opinions, it's great for the fans to be able to acquire some of those films. At Cult Reviews, severeal of the movies of the collection have been reviewed recently, like Jeff Lieberman's "Blue Sunshine", his more recent "Satan's Little Helper", and Scott Spiegel's "Intruder". For a complete of reviews on Mr. Horror releases check here.

On the greater scheme of things, Perfesser Deviant has written reviews of Conor MacMahon's "Dead Meat" and Tripp Reid's "Manticore"; while Marco Freitas has published an interview with filmmaker Michael Schroeder. Finally, Vomitro himself has chronicled his encounter with the bizarre "Dracula Vs. Frankenstein". More of the good stuff can be found at your favourite site on the weird and the strange of cinema Cult Reviews.

So, keep supporting Cult Reviews!

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Låt Den Rätte Komma In (2008)

Ever since the publishing of John Polidori's "The Vampyre" in 1819, the folkloric figure of the vampire, that mythical undead being who survives by drinking blood, entered the world of modern fiction. 78 years later, Bram Stoker's highly influential novel, "Dracula", would finish to integrate the vampire to modern culture. After that, the vampire has been a constant theme that lurks in horror fiction, mainly because the attractive and interesting traits of the vampire figure make it very useful to deal with a wide variety of topics. From dashing hero to atrocious monster, the vampire has taken many roles and symbols through its existence on modern fiction, and another proof of the fascination it has on us is 2004's Swedish novel, "Låt Den Rätte Komma in" (literally, "Let the Right One In"), by writer John Ajvide Lindqvis. A supernatural tale of horror and romance that deals with issues like bullying, murder and pedophilia, "Låt Den Rätte Komma in" became a bestseller in its native country, and fortunately, it also became a new chance for the vampire to get into the big screen again.

In the Stockholm suburb of Blackeberg, Oskar (Kåre Hedebrant) is a lonely 12-year-old boy who is regularly bullied at school. Living with his mother in an apartment building, Oskar spends his time meditating alone and dreaming about getting revenge from the classmates who bully him. One night he meets Eli (Lina Leandersson), a strange pale girl who seems to be of his same age. Eli has recently moved to the building and comes out only at night. Despite Eli's reluctance, a bond is formed between the two kids, and soon they become close friends, meeting at the building's courtyard or communicating between the apartments via Morse code messages. Eli begins to encourage Oskar to fight back those who bully him, and gives him the strength he needs to stand up. But Elis is not without problems herself, as she is a vampire and needs blood to survive. Her "father", Håkan (Per Ragnar), has been killing local residents in order to provide blood for Eli, but one night he gets caught, so he disfigures himself to avoid being identified. Eli finds herself alone, but Oskar's willing to let her in.

Adapted to the screen by the bestseller's author, John Ajvide Lindqvist himself, "Låt Den Rätte Komma In" is a powerful, melancholic tale of horror that despite the toning down (or complete removing) of several themes of the novel, it still is explores the dark side of humanity in the tragic tale of the love between a lonely kid and his vampire friend. The story's greatest strength is certainly the way the characters are developed, with the relationship between Oskar and Eli taking the central focus of it. But even with a tender love at the center of it, the world of John Ajvide Lindqvist's "Låt Den Rätte Komma In" is a harsh, realistic one, so harsh that the existence of vampires isn't really that terrifying when compared to the bleak world where Oskar has to grow up. The realism extents to the vampire theme too, as "Låt Den Rätte Komma In" doesn't attempt to glamorize (or modernize) the vampire condition, but instead chooses to represent the classic myth with all its "rules" without any concession: the life of a vampire isn't a romantic one, not even an easy one.

Director Tomas Alfredson makes a great job in bringing to life the cold, lonely world of "Låt Den Rätte Komma In", as he conceived an atmosphere that perfectly represents the feeling of alienation that's present in both kids' lives. With a superb work by cinematographer Hoyte Van Hoytema, Alfredson creates a beautiful, poetic film that's emotional and tender without being schmaltzy or childish. The innocence and purity of the bond formed between the kid and the vampire speaks louder than the clichéd teenage angst of other vampire-related love stories. At the core, it's still a horror film, but the horror is subtler, based more on the disturbing images it evokes than on the graphic violence it shows. It's restrained, sober style taking back the focus of the horror to the darkness, to the unseen, leaving the work to the imagination instead of spiting out every move. Alfredson's use of silence is masterful, and coupled with Van Hoytema's beautiful cinematography, result in the haunting atmosphere of a film in which images speak more than words.

Acting in the film is really amazing, with young actors Kåre Hedebrant and Lina Leandersson (both 11 years old at the time of filming) delivering remarkable performances in the lead roles. As the fragile Oskar, Kåre Hedebrant is excellent, very natural and believable as the bullied little kid whose life is lonely and miserable until that strange girl appears. With a face full of melancholy and wonder, Kåre is a wonderful Oskar, but if he is wonderful, Lina Leandersson takes it to the next level as Eli, the mysterious vampire girl. Looking wise beyond her years, Lina portrays perfectly a vampire trapped in the body of a 12-year-old kid, with the maturity that gives age and the fragility that gives the discovery of love. Both actors have great chemistry as a couple, which instrumental for the film as in the end it's their character's emotions what drive the film. The rest of the cast is for the most part effective, although the film revolves completely around the two young lead actors. Still, Per Ragnar is good as Håkan, and young Patrik Rydmark is excellent as Oskar's bully, Conny.

A fascinating tale of romance and horror, "Låt Den Rätte Komma In" once again resurrects the myth of the vampire, but by taking away the glamor and taking it back to its roots as a tragic, monstrous curse, it surprisingly humanizes it. Facing a bleak world filled with murderers, drunkards, bullies and broken homes, both kids are not that different in the end, as the fragile 12-year-old boy and the older vampire trapped in a kid's body appear as equals, both being misfits in such environment. And they need each other: Oskar needs the confidence and strength Eli gives him, while she needs the innocence and purity his love offers. As written above, some of the themes the novel handled were eliminated, but still, the essence of John Ajvide Lindqvist's book remains: the dark side of humanity is far more terrible than any monster. Sober and low key, Alfredson's "Låt Den Rätte Komma In" moves in silence and flows at a much slower pace than most modern films of the same type, as it opts for suggestion instead of explanation. This approach takes horror back to where it's scarier: in the imagination.

Filled with a chilling atmosphere and beautiful visual poetry, Tomas Alfredson's "Låt Den Rätte Komma In" is a breath of fresh air for the horror genre that shows that there's more about it than graphic violence and jump scares, as it can also evoke powerful emotions and still be a disturbing thriller. Granted, it may be too slow for some, but personally, I think that its restrained, subtle approach was the best way to properly tell the story without falling in the schmaltzy clichés of similar romance stories. It's respect for realism and extreme care for detail certainly help in this aspect too. "Låt Den Rätte Komma In", or "Let the Right One In", is definitely an original and inventive story that seems to remind us that way before being cool and hip, vampire stories used to be disturbing too.

9/10
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Körkarlen (1921)

In the early days of film-making, cinema of Sweden rose to prominence thanks to the works of two pioneers of the silent film industry: Mauritz Stiller and Victor Sjöström, both highly influential directors and technically, the fathers of Swedish cinema. Of the two, Sjöström is probably the better remembered nowadays, as he also made a career as an actor, giving a powerful final performance at age 78 in Ingmar Bergman's 1957 masterpiece, "Smultronstället" ("Wild Strawberries"). But this wouldn't be the only link between the two Swedish masters, as in fact, Sjöström's influence over Bergman's work can be found in many of Bergman's movies. This film, 1921's "Körkarlen" (known in English as "The Phantom Carriage"), is no exception, as this dark drama would prove to be highly influential to many of Bergman's masterpieces, including "Det Sjunde Inseglet" ("The Seventh Seal").

"Körkarlen" is the story of David Holm, a completely irresponsible drunkard who has spent his life living only to drink. On New Year's Eve, Holm is as usual, drinking with his friends, and it is during their celebration that one of them tells an old legend: that the last person to die in the year, if he or she has been a big sinner, will become the driver of the Phantom Carriage, the legendary chariot in which Death picks up the souls of the dead. In a twist of fate, Holm ends up being killed after a violent discussion right at the last minute of the year, and since he has spent his life inflicting pain to his friends and family, the Phantom Carriage will come for him. This ghastly revelation will make Holm to remember his life, which was always filled with wrath, hate and perversion, in order to find a way to escape his fate and save his soul.

Based on the 1912 novel of the same name by Selma Lagerlöf, the screenplay was written by Sjöström himself, making "Körkarlen" the fourth movie he adapted from a story by Lagerlöf. What's interesting about "Körkarlen" is that Sjöström develops the plot using a series of flashbacks in a style that wasn't very common in those days, moving back and forth from present to past, as the complex personality of David Holm unfolds and the reasons behind his damnation are revealed. Sjöström's innovative narrative structure in "Körkarlen" is complex, but not difficult to follow, and works perfectly with the plot's mix of dark fantasy and harsh realism. Having not read it, I'm not sure how faithful is this to Lagerlöf's novel, but the mixture of the fantastic elements with the hopeless realism of Holm's corruption is one of the most attractive and successful elements in the film.

Probably the scenes that most capture the attention at first sight in "The Phantom Carriage" are the ones with the Carriage itself, as director Victor Sjöström and cinematographer Julius Jaenzon create several haunting special effects using trick photography with a care and a style rarely seen in these kind of effects. However, there's more in "Körkarlen" than ghastly special effects, as Sjöström gives an excellent use to Jaenzon's photography to create a dark, melancholic atmosphere of despair using light and shadows in a subtle way. This is best appreciated when watching the film in its tinted version, although even in simple black and white the results are amazing. Now, Sjöström really knew how to bring the best out of his cast (he started as an actor, so that may be the reason), and this movie is no exception, as the acting is one of the strongest points in "Körkarlen".

It could be said that "Körkarlen" is all about Victor Sjöström, as he not only directs it, he also plays David Holm himself and is quite remarkable at doing it. As the incorrigible drunkard on the path to damnation, Sjöström delivers a very powerful performance and is often quite realistic in the drunk insanity of his character. One could think that Sjöström overshadows the rest of the cast, but Astrid Holm, who plays Sister Edit, is equally as good. Her character is essentially the David Holm's counterpart, and the person who tries to save his soul. As Holm's wife, Hilda Borgström offers a performance filled with many powerfully emotional scenes, and she is quite effective at them, although her character has considerably less screen time than Sjöström and Astrid Holm. Finally, Tore Svennberg is indeed very creepy as the Carriage's current driver.

"Körkarlen" is a movie filled with a very haunting beauty of almost supernatural origin. The way this drama mixes the horrors of the supernatural world with those of the real world (which seem more horrific) makes it a powerful movie even today, and Sjöström's style still feels quite fresh and modern, considering that the film is more than 80 years old. If there is a flaw in this near perfect masterpiece, I would say that it's its tendency to be excessively preachy towards the end. Sjöström was prone to make his movies with severe moralistic undertones, and in "Körkarlen" this is glaringly obvious. I won't go as far as some critics who call it "a Salvation Army propaganda film", but I must say that it's noticeable, although not really annoying. Nevertheless, "Körkarlen"'s beauty transcends this apparent lack of subtlety and like Wilder's "The Lost Weekend", is a powerful tale about the demons of alcohol.

One could say that "Körkarlen" makes the perfect companion piece to Bergman's two legendary masterpieces of the 50s, as not only it is it's artistic predecessor, it shares the fascination with death and what comes after it. With its very poetic images and the notably inventive way its narrative is built, "Körkarlen" is in my opinion, one of the most beautiful films of the silent era. One final thing, Bergman's intimate relationship with this film can also be noted in one of his last films, "Bildmakarna", a film about the making of "Körkarlen". A highly influential masterpiece indeed.

9/10
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