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Man without a Past 

The lead character in Aki Kaurismaki's new film, Man without a Past, is just known as Man. We first glimpse Man (played by Markku Peltola) as he's riding a train, a somewhat dispirited figure riding to who knows where. He gets off the train late at night with a suitcase full of something, walks for a while, and finally sits down on a bench in a deserted park and falls asleep. Except that it's not completely deserted, as three thugs sneak up
behind him, whack him on the head, steal his belongings,  proceed to pummel him, and then leave him for dead. But he doesn't die. We next see him in the hospital where he's in a coma covered in bandages. The nurse and doctor don't hold out much hope for him, and yet he soon magically awakens. He rises out of bed, rips off the hospital equipment, and heads off again to who knows where. He makes it to a park bathroom where he collapses from his own wounds. Again, he's left to die. But again he doesn't die. This sequence repeats itself yet one more time near a river. This might sound morbid, but it's actually quite funny. Kaurismaki's use of silent-comedy conventions--the deadpan face, the sudden surprise, the befuddled
reaction--fits perfectly with his material. And we find ourselves caring about this Man though we know absolutely nothing about him.

When the Man finally comes to, he's being cared for by a poor family living in a large storage container outside of Helsinki. Because of the beating, he can't remember anything of his past (hence the movie's title). Seeing
this place as good as any, he decides to settle down. He rents another container from a seedy cop with a not-so-vicious attack dog, cleans it out, and plants some potatoes,. The family takes him to a soup kitchen run by the Salvation Army, which is where he meets the kindly Irma (Kati Outinen). Smitten by her, he takes a job with the Army in its thrift store, and the two begin a tentative relationship. This builds until the Man is actually confronted by the past he had forgotten.

The film has a fairly simple premise, but Kaurismaki (who wrote as well as directed) develops such interesting characters and situations. Besides the stone-faced man and the uncertain Irma, there's the family that helps the Man get on his feet. The father is a hen-pecked husband who sneaks some of the welfare money to go to the bar. His excuse is that he has to entertain the Man, but the Man doesn't drink. All the more for me, the husband exclaims. There's also a Salvation Army band that's used to playing old hymns, but the Man convinces them to start playing '50s rock-and-roll. Even better, the Army's leaders find this new style a useful witnessing tool. And when one of the Army's older ladies uses it as an opportunity to sing torch songs, well the effect is incomparable.

Kaurismaki's use of music is wonderful. The Man finds a juke box that he sets up in his spartan home and uses it to woo Irma. The cinematography by Timo Salminen features long takes that let the music wash over us, creating an almost hypnotic effect. The same is true during the Salvation Army band's concert for the poor and homeless. Kaurismaki's ability to evoke a certain place is marvelous. Though we wouldn't wish to go through what Man went through, we're thrilled to be sitting by him, experiencing his rebirth. Salminen also creates vivid colors--oranges, greens, and blues--that amplify the film's almost dream-like state.

The movie's only drawback is its final act. Seemingly nervous about having too little plot, Kaurismaki forces the Man to face up to his past. Though this leads to a hilarious scene in a police station, it also discards the
tone and emphasis on place Kaurismaki has created. When the Man finally returns, the denouement is far too short and tidy to adequately resolve the film's various elements. Nonetheless, The Man without a Past is a
delightful, little picture that should please Kaurismaki's legion of fans and make him some new ones as well. As one character remarks to the Man, "Life goes on. But not backwards. Which is good for you."  

J. Robert Parks 7/13/2003

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