Drifting Clouds (Finnish, 1996)
- condiscoacademy
- May 11, 2024
- 8 min read
Drifting Clouds, directed by the Finnish auteur, Aki Kaurismäki, narrates the story of a working class couple whose economic lives are disrupted when they lose their jobs.
Source: Mubi Streaming Service
The plot
Lauri Koponen (played by Kari Väänänen), a tram driver, loses his job as the routes become unprofitable. Not long after, his wife, Ilona Koponen (played by Kati Outinen) also loses her position as head waitress when the family-run restaurant, the Dubrovnik, is acquired by a chain. These two events trigger a series of setbacks for the couple.
Lauri manages to get a job offer to drive a bus route from Helsinki to St. Petersburg (Russia) but fails the medical test. It turns out that he is deaf in one ear and hence, cannot drive a commercial vehicle again. Ilona fares no better. She empties her bank account to pay the commission of a recruiter, who procures her a job at a cheap diner run by the rogue Forsström (played by Matti Onnismaa). It turns out that Forsström has not been paying his taxes and when the authorities raid his establishment, Ilona is out of a job again. Worse, Forsström and his fellow hoodlums beat up Lauri, when he demands the back wages owed to his wife. Eventually, the couple forfeit their furniture and a recently purchased color television, when they cannot pay the installments. Ilona and her former colleague from the Dubrovnik , the doorman Melartin (played by Sakari Kuosmanen) unsuccessfully try to raise money to open a new restaurant.
The luck of the Koponens finally turns when Ilona bumps into the former owner of the Dubrovnik , Rouva Sjöholm (played by Elina Savo), at a salon where Ilona had gone looking for a job. Mrs. Sjöholm, tired of leading a life of leisure, offers to be an angel investor for a restaurant that Ilona would manage and eventually buy from her. Ilona goes about setting up the new restaurant, Ravintola Tyo, with great competence. She recruits the alcoholic chef of the Dubrovnik, Lajunen (played by Markku Peltola), who is now living on the streets. Melartin, of course, is the doorman.
When, on the day of the grand opening, no patrons turn up around lunch time, we get a sinking feeling of another imminent failure. But happily, guests start trickling in and very soon, the restaurant is brimming with patrons. The film ends with the shot of Ilona and Lauri looking up at the sky. We can infer that the clouds are drifting!
Observations
Capitalism and its discontents
Without being overtly political, Aki Kaurismäki critiques capitalism through the arc of the narrative.
Early on in the film, there is subtle reference to consumption, which is the fuel of capitalism. The accoutrements of the Koponens' middle class lifestyle, like furniture and appliances, are financed through loans. The couple have bought a bookshelf but don't have the money to buy books till loans are paid off. This ostensible comfortable existence is, in reality, precarious, as the Koponens soon find out.
The director also demonstrates the dehumanization inherent in capitalism. The company that runs the tram lines decides whom to let go via a random game of chance. Lauri is literally and metaphorically dealt a bad card. The underlying message in this satirical exaggeration, that we are merely means of production, resonates with anyone who has worked in a corporate setting.
Kaurismäki also suggests that the extent of dehumanization is less in small businesses. The Dubrovnik needs to make money, just like the tram company. Hence, it is understandable when Rouva Sjöholm somewhat bluntly tells her employees that she has no influence on the hiring decisions of the new buyers. However, there is a sense of community in the staff. Even though the chef Lajunen is an alcoholic who injures his colleague Melartin with a knife in a fit of temporary insanity, both the restaurant owner and his colleagues are willing to work with him. Lajunen recompenses Melartin for the expense incurred at the doctor's office, after which, the two share a smoke. Later, in the film, Mrs. Sjöholm gives Ilona her second chance. Ilona, for her part, helps Lajunen get better in a rehabilitation center, instead of hiring a new chef.
Kaurismäki also trots out the trope of the evil banker. The banker who manages the Dubrovnik relationship, is also on the board of the chain that eventually acquires the standalone restaurant. The financial offer made by the chain is exactly equal to the principal and interest owed by Mrs. Sjöholm, indicating that the banker was collaborating with the acquiring company. Later, in the film, the bank where Ilona maintains her account, declines to finance her business. This reinforces the idea that dehumanization is intrinsic to capitalism and trust must be replaced with contractual safeguards. Since Ilona cannot offer collateral, she cannot get a loan.
Many viewers, myself included, would find Kaurismäki's critique misplaced. Capitalism, for all its flaws, is the only economic system that has proven to alleviate human deprivation at scale. The actions of the bankers in the film are understandable. Mrs. Sjöholm's banker, by arranging an acquisition by a financially stronger party is fulfilling his fiduciary duty towards the bank's depositors. In the same vein, Ilona's banker cannot underwrite a loan based on her talent, the way Mrs. Sjöholm can. In fact, incorporation of such subjective criteria in lending would only promote discrimination against women and minorities. But even those of us who are simpatico with the selfishness of the butcher and the baker intellectually (without being Ayn Rand devotees), cannot help but feel uncomfortable with how the market ties the value of a human being to his economic output.
Work and meaning
Ilona is very competent at her job of being the head waitress at a fine dining restaurant. Forsström's establishment is a far cry from fine dining at the Dubrovnik.The diner, which does not even have a name, only serves microwave ready frozen food. Yet, Ilona takes pains to convey the impression that the diner has a chef, while in actuality, she is managing both the dining room and the kitchen. Perhaps, she is seeking to retain some ounce of her dignity, having had to accept such degrading (in her eyes) employment. The degree of importance we all attach to our professional identity is part of a bigger delusion we all suffer from- that we are at the center of the universe. Most likely, patrons of the diner couldn't care less on what Ilona's station in life was. They, like Ilona, were probably, immersed in their own love and longings.
We all construct stories about ourselves and our identity is tied to that story. Sometimes these stories are helpful as they can inspire us to act in lofty ways. For instance, we may think of ourselves as resilient or generous and act accordingly. However, the self-image we are constructing is often predicated on the assumption that we are in control. In reality, the universe is a random place and bad things happen to good people. Hence, in both good times and bad, it is helpful to acknowledge the role of luck, and live within the Goldilocks zone of striving and surrender. In the film, Lauri is reluctant to apply for unemployment assistance as it is inconsistent with his self-image of self-reliance. Yet, there should be no shame in accepting help, when so much, including the circumstances of our birth, are outside our control.
The invisible city
Helsinki, like any other big city, is full of people going about their busy lives. Yet, everyone is carrying their own burdens that is hidden from others. We are all invisible to each other. The man standing next to you in the subway may have just stepped out of a doctor's office with a terminal diagnosis. The woman passing us by on the street may have been laid off from her job that day. If we dined at the Dubrovnik, Ilona would probably be like street furniture to us, an instrumental creature that directs us to a seat. In the course of the film we see the picture of a little boy whose grave Ilona visits. Thus, we infer a tragic layer to her life, the death of a child. The picture, incidentally, is a childhood picture of Matti Pellonpaa, an actor who was a regular in Kaurismäki films and died unexpectedly, the year before the film was made.
The struggles of Ilona and Lauri are their own. The people in their circle are either helpless themselves (the employees of The Dubrovnik), indifferent (the employees of the State run employment agency) or predatory (Forsström). The couple seem to lack social capital in the form of a friend and family network. Except Lauri's sister, no family member appears to be in the picture.
The stoic Helsinkians
The characters in the film appear very deadpan. They rarely smile or exude warmth. This is most prominently observable in the lead couple. When Lauri tells Ilona that he was laid off, they might as well be talking about the weather. Often this deadpan manner is funny. For instance, when Lauri demands his money back at the cinema because he did not laugh even once at a film that was supposed to be a comedy, the cashier (Lauri's sister) refuses his request because he had not paid in the first place. In another funny exchange, Ilona, in her usual impassive manner, tells Mrs. Sjöholm that the financial difficulties of the Dubrovnik could be traced to the aging of their customers, who could not drink as much as they used to in their younger days.
Having never been to Finland, I could not tell whether this is how Helsinkians are or the director is deploying an artistic device, Regardless, the otherwise stone-faced expressions of Ilona and Lauri, make their occasional subtle expressions of love precious, like the time Ilona looks at her husband adoringly, while he is driving a tram, or when Lauri gently adjusts her coat when she falls asleep on the couch.
Red, Blue and Green
The color palette of the film is red and blue, with some green thrown in. The red and blue combination is used repeatedly. There is a beautiful shot of Ilona, in a bright red coat, closing the blue door of the restaurant with Dubrovnik displayed on a blue neon sign. The apartment of the Koponens also feature a mix of blue (walls, the dining table cover) and red (the couch). At Forsström's diner, there are red walls and blue tiles. Green, though less prominent, makes consistent appearance (the tram Lauri drives, his car, the scarf Ilona wears at the employment office, green shelves at Forsström's kitchen).
At times Drifting Clouds appears to be a never-ending tale of woe that would end badly. But the happy ending makes it worth watching for those of us who are not into grim and hopeless stories.
Those who look beyond the plot will appreciate the meticulous attention to detail that Kaurismäki employs to lend verisimilitude and consistency to the narrative. For instance, Ilona’s remark about the declining drinking abilities of Dubrovnik’s patrons aligns with the visibly older demographic seen on the restaurant's final night. Similarly, when the Dubrovnik staff celebrates their last shift together, Lajunen is the only one drinking orange juice, reflecting the earlier warning given to him to not drink on the job. Another detail is the dilapidated state of the car Lauri drives after selling his previous one, understandable given his severe financial difficulties.
One gets the sense that we would observe some such new detail on every repeat watching. Kaurismäki's craftsmanship makes this film watchable, even in its most grim moments.
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