Coffee and coffee
by Lukas Arndt
The heat is gradually subsiding. Evening has finally descended. The shadows across the festival grounds are growing longer. Sunday evening, 9.15 pm: film night in the cinema tent.
As the final item on the day’s programme, the second short film night marks the end of the CircusDanceFestival on the Latibul site. A wistful mood hangs in the air amidst the poplar pollen.
The audience put on their headphones and take their seats on the chairs arranged in airy rows. No cinema seats, no popcorn, but a large screen beneath the high ceiling of the tent dome. In a brief introduction, Heike Diehm and Valentina Barone outline the focus of tonight’s film night: four of the seven short films are from Finland. And somehow that seems very fitting to this final evening.
The Power of Repetition
Take Hugo and Arsi, for example. “Lähde” (Fountain) follows their development over 12 years. The same frame, over and over again. Arsi, aged eleven at the start, juggles four red balls on a bridge. Hugo, a baby at the start, first toddles, then runs across the frame. Off-screen, the voices of the two narrate their lives in Helsinki in short sentences.
The juggling pattern that gives the film its title, “Fountain”, and the bridge as a threshold are the only symbolism this short coming-of-age documentary indulges in. Apart from that nothing but: tranquillity and repetition. This is often surprisingly funny, but also a play on boredom. In the background: the city, the forest, the Baltic Sea, rubbish weather.
An example: Arsi is juggling; he is perhaps 19 at this point. For a long time, we simply watch him juggle. Hugo, about 8, crosses the frame. Juggling, silence, more juggling. Eventually, a voice-over: “Of course I could be better, but that’s OK.”
Another example: Arsi is juggling; he is about 20 at this point. He says nothing for a long time, then: “Well.”
Don’t bat an eyelid
“Affairs of the cities” by the Nuua Company works in a completely different way, yet employs the same laconicism and simplicity. Around ten people, dressed in pastel-coloured formal attire, sit in a row at a long coffee table. The colour temperature is cool; the coffee cups are first empty, then full, but somehow that makes no difference. In a finely and impressively choreographed sequence, they are pushed back and forth, thrown, put down again. The fact that the purpose of this procedure is not apparent seems to be the very purpose of the procedure. A playful satire on just how cumbersome bureaucracy and political decision-making are. The only thing that matters is that everything looks serious from the outside; the main thing is not to bat an eyelid when you spill.
The country with the highest per capita consumption in the world
On average, people in Finland drink four cups a day. So, of course, it’s all about coffee again, but this time it’s completely different. “Nitro” by the Kallo Collective showcases the pinnacle of Finnish coffee consumption and perhaps also the pinnacle of Finnish humour. With a great love for outsiders and an unerring flair for the weird, the short film follows three stubbornly clownish characters on their travels, on their mission to find the first cup of the day.
The search for a socket for the electric hotplate, the joy of finding one, and the ensuing caffeine-induced ecstasy make “Nitro” a road movie, a drug film and a comedy all in one.
Silence and a Grey Tinge
“Vertical Feeling” by Jenny Mansikkasalo is the last and most enigmatic of the four Finnish films this evening. How does growing up with the vertical cloth become ingrained in the body? How does it change the body, how does it change one’s thinking? Like “Lähde” and “Affairs of the Cities” in their own ways, “Vertical Feeling” too thrives on silence and a greyish hue. Far removed from narrative, somewhere between sad and fearless, between dream and wakefulness, we hang from the ceiling with the protagonist. It is so visually evocative and moving that one almost believes one can feel the fabric against one’s own skin. But only almost.
And so, it comes to an end. The audience laughed, held back a tear, stayed awake. It is the blend of sadness and humour that holds these films together. It is the quiet, unbiased love for their characters that makes them a fitting conclusion to the festival.