The story that director Aki Kaurismäki tells in his latest film Le Havre is very simple. A shoe shine man living in the port city of Le Havre, France meets a young boy who has come to the country illegally, and who is the subject of a hunt by immigration officers. With the help of some locals, the shoe shine man hides the boy away in his home until he can arrange a way to get him out of the country and to London, where his mother awaits. The story is simple, but it’s not in the story where the charms of Le Havre lie. To get to the good stuff you have to get to know the characters, become acquainted with the setting, and acclimate yourself to the strange beats of Kaurismäki’s mostly deadpan humor. Le Havre is something of a unique filmgoing experience, and it has a small learning curve, but once you orient yourself there’s a lot to get out of it.
The story here is one of immigration, and how France’s strict policies affect those that have come in illegally from poorer countries looking for a better life. But that’s not really what the movie is about. The movie is about celebrating humanity, basking in the warmth of shared relationships, and enjoying life’s simple pleasures. It’s about the importance of being kind to the people around you and appreciating the good things you have rather than constantly striving for that which eludes you. Or, at least, that’s what it was about to me. Le Havre isn’t a preachy film that tries to tell you how to live your life. If just creates and delights in it’s own world and characters, and then allows you to take from the experience what you will.
The main character, our shoe shine man, is named Marcel Marx (André Wilms). He’s a bit of a scoundrel and a bit of a cheapskate when we meet him, but over time we learn that he isn’t the sort that means any harm. He’s more the Bohemian type of fellow who believes that things should be freely given in friendship, not the sort of hooligan who’s looking to do anybody harm when he nips a baguette from the local baker. He even seems like the type of person who has full intentions to pay back what he takes later, but who never finds the focus or discipline to make intentions reality. His wife does say that he’s a big child, after all. No, mostly what’s on his mind is just cobbling together enough coin to get a nice meal and some nice wine for the day. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Marcel isn’t the sort of man who burns too many calories planning ahead, that wouldn’t give him enough time to spend with his beloved wife Arletty (Kati Outinen), his loyal dog Laïka, or to stop and appreciate the freshly bloomed flowers every once in a while.
Then his wife gets sick and has to go to the hospital. Suddenly Marcel is left without his anchor, without his guide; he’s left to flounder. But focus comes in the form of young Idrissa (Blondin Miguel), the aforementioned immigrant. Idrissa acts not just as a litmus test for Marcel’s morality and the depths of his charitable heart, he acts as a source of bonding for the other people in the town. When the film starts, the characters feel very fragmented, they live their lives in their individual spaces and watch their backs when other people come around. But the more people learn about Idrissa’s story, and the more Marcel tries to do to help him, the more everyone comes together.
This isn’t a political movie. The immigration issue isn’t explored or commented on in any way. And it’s not even a class struggle movie. These working class people aren’t banding together to take on an oppressive ruling class. They just learn of Idrissa’s plight one by one, knowingly nod their heads, and do what they can. There are immigration agents in this movie, and they are trying to hunt an innocent kid down and capture him, but they’re not presented as villains. They’re nameless, faceless, just a boogeyman that sets our characters into motion and gets them interacting with one another.
The one big police figure we get is Inspector Monet (Jean-Pierre Darroussin). He’s the local investigator tasked with helping immigration track the boy down, and though he’s an enigmatic, authoritative figure, you get the sense that he isn’t a jerk. He’s hunting Idrissa down, but we get the impression that he isn’t so dedicated to this job. That maybe this is one set of orders that he doesn’t agree with. And when his investigation takes him into the local pub, we even get an indication that he and the local bartender have a romantic past. That’s what’s great about this movie. You get the sense that every stone you turn up in this town has a secret story living under it; something that could have been a movie in its own right.
Perhaps the greatest untold story of Le Havre is the past of Little Bob. He’s the most famous person to ever come out of the town, an elderly rock star who looks more like an Asian lesbian than any sort of French rocker I’ve ever seen; but man can he sing. We get a subplot where Marcel needs him to agree to play a trendy benefit concert, but due to a romantic gesture he refuses to sing until his estranged wife comes back to him. With the help of Marcel, she does, and then he puts on the greatest rock show of all time. The sequence was probably my favorite thing in the film just due to how weird and random Bob’s inclusion in this story was. There are layers to this world that we will never get to fully explore, but we know that they’re there, full of insight and intrigue, and it makes Le Havre a really rich experience.
In trying to describe this film, I’ve mostly talked about what it isn’t. I guess that’s because it’s hard to put what this film is into words. It exists in its own reality, one that moves a little slower than ours. It’s people are more stalwart, they play things closer to their vests and you have to dig a bit to find their stories. The movie moves at a relaxed pace. It’s in no hurry to build a bunch of tension and craft an explosive climax. But it’s never a bore. It’s like taking a lazy drive on a sunny day, and it’s funny enough and charming enough to sweep you along for the ride. Le Havre can make a joke out of a man holding a pineapple. I don’t know how it does it, but the timing is just right, the characters have come together in just the right way, and it hits you... a man silently holding a pineapple gets a laugh. This movie’s world isn’t quite fairy tale, but it’s not quite reality either. There is something slightly off kilter and unique about these people and their town. It’s like Le Havre is completely populated with characters from old movies who have come here to retire after their stories have been told. Then the arrival of Idrissa gives them one more chance to do something important. I find it difficult to articulate what’s so great about that, but I find I’m having a great time mulling it over nonetheless.
