(Mikko Niskanen, 1972, Finland, 35mm, 145 minutes)
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"Eight Deadly Shots is perhaps the most nuanced picture of the working of the economic system in the history of our cinema: a close-up of a man up against the wall, at the most basic level of breathing."
--Peter von Bagh, Kansan Uutiset
While Mikko Niskanen's Skin, Skin is light, Eight Deadly Shots is the essence of dark. Born in 1929, the actor and director made 14 features before his death in 1990. The British Film Institute, in 1972's New Cinema in Finland, describes this B&W effort as his "most important film so far." One of filmmaker Aki Kaurismäki's favorites, it remains Niskanen's most important--even if it isn't really a "film" (more on that below). A powerful work of social protest, it's among the finest Finnish pictures ever produced.
Originally commissioned for television, Eight Deadly Shots was broadcast in four installments totaling five hours and 16 minutes. Like the abridged edition of Ingmar Bergman's 1973 small-screen series Scenes from a Marriage, this theatrical version plays as if it was always meant to be a movie. The BFI proclaimed it "a triumph" and a "minor masterpiece."
To judge by the first week of screenings, including Jörn Donner's charmingly titled Fuck Off! Images of Finland (1971), the series has been an unqualified success, and those who missed the opening week still have two left during which to get caught up. Summer Rebellion, Diary of a Worker, and Poor Maria brings things to a close next weekend.
Inspired by a 1969 incident concerning Tauno Veikko Pasanen (with whom Niskanen consulted), Eight Deadly Shots examines the rigors of rural life from the inside out. It's one thing to live off the fat of the land, but it's another when that land ceases to yield produce of any value, especially when there are no other income-generating options available.
His perceptive, unnamed wife understands the situation all too clearly. The money is a boon, but the operation represents a serious liability. The authorities have been keeping tabs on the community, and the penalties for bootlegging are stiff. Worse yet, Pasi's drinking is taking its toll by destroying his family and, through distribution, the entire town.
The BFI: "The illegal distilling of spirits, an important part of the film's action, becomes a social protest, the last trial of strength for a powerless small farmer, an illusory flame of freedom and life but which, according to the class laws of society, irrevocably destroys the protester himself."
Eventually, the police catch the distillers in the act, and Pasi's downward spiral accelerates until an act of violence seals his fate. Nobody makes him pull the trigger, but nor does anyone help him when he's down.
About the neo-realist thriller, the BFI adds, "One of the great achievements of Niskanen is that he is able to portray the basic positiveness of the leading character of this grim story--also his belief in the possibilities of nature and work--and all this without the wrong kind of romanticism, without traditional poetic clichés of film humanism--and without pity, since pity would have meant placing oneself outside the situation."
Aside from the carefully observed writing, Niskanen's deeply felt performance makes Eight Deadly Shots hard to deny. It may not sound like a fun night at the movies, but the film is so attentive to time and place that it feels universal (Niskanen grew up in the same part of Finland).
Whether or not there's a history of alcoholism in his family, Pasi's reasons for drinking are always understandable. And his efforts to deny it recall Ray Milland's prevaricator in The Lost Weekend. As in Billy Wilder's 1945 feature, Niskanen doesn't waste time with Freudian psychobabble--dad was withholding, mom was controlling--but gets in under Pasi's skin, allowing the audience access to his feelings of hopelessness and despair.
In the annals of film criticism, there are three words that serve as disincentives like no others. Those words are: long, slow, and dark (bad and boring don't count as they're so subjective as to be meaningless). At 145 minutes, Eight Deadly Shots may take a walk on the long side, but it's hardly epic, and compared to the cinema of, say, Andrei Tarkovsky, the pace is practically brisk. The darkness, however, is undeniable. And Niskanen doesn't use comedy to brighten the corners. Like Charles Burnett's 1977 Killer of Sheep, which also depicts decency under trying conditions, the director uses the humanity of his characters and the pitiless beauty of their surroundings to craft a timeless work of controlled rage.
Sisu Cinema: Nine From the Finnish New Wave continues at the Northwest Film Forum through 2/17. Eight Deadly Shots plays on 2/10. The NWFF is located at 1515 12th Ave. on Capitol Hill between Pike and Pine. For more information, please call 206-329-2629. Images: Midnight Sun Film Festival, Film at Lincoln Center, and Doclisboa Film Festival, and The New York Times (Niskanen via Finnish Film Foundation / YLE).
Because of its origins as a multi-part television program, it also reminded me of the Roddy Doyle / Michael Winterbottom film, Family. It was a four-hour program, condensed to two hours for theatrical release. It also deals with the effect of alcohol on a family, although its focus is much more narrow than that of Eight Deadly Shots. Doyle later adapted his screenplay into a book, The Woman Who Walked into Doors.
ReplyDeleteI had no idea, while watching "Eight Deadly Shots," that it had originated as a TV series. In fact, I knew nothing about it at all-" was the only person at the press screening--but felt I was watching a lost classic as it unfolded (the scene with the overburdened horse had me at the edge of my seat). Turns out it's long been considered one of Finland's finest productions. A must for anyone interested in Scandinavian cinema and/or neo-realism in general.
ReplyDeleteJust came from seeing this movie, and loved it. I was particularly impressed with the way that it seamlessly blended scripted scenes with documentary footage and improvisation.
ReplyDeleteThe non-actors added a palpable reality, particularly the children, who seemed to have very few scripted lines, instead simply responding to the events around them in a natural way that was touching and convincing.
There were also amazingly serendipitous documentary moments.
Thank you for your comment. Definitely agree about the children and non-professionals. By contrast, Niskanen's performance seems expressionistic at times--a little like Spencer Tracy in "Fury"--but in a way that always rings true, never seems flashy.
ReplyDeleteThe eyes of the littlest boy when "Santa Claus" comes to visit--that wasn't acting. You know that nobody told that kid that Santa was going to walk through the door.
ReplyDeleteI agree about the horse scene as well. I wish the subtitles had translated the last thing that Pas/<> says to the horse, Liisa, when he sells her, although it was moving enough without knowing exactly what he said. I also liked the detail of his instructions to his son about the importance of stroking the animal while harnessing her.