Letters to Father Jacob

My repertoire of Finnish films contains so few specimens that a kindergartner could add them up. I know I am missing classics such as Tuntematon Sotilas (The Unknown Soldier, 1955), that airs on TV every Independence Day, and more modern works such as Äideistä parhain (Mother of Mine, 2005). I am generally just not a fan, though, since they tend to be slow-paced, taciturn, stark, and often depressing.

In spite of such preconceived ideas, I watched Postia Pappi Jaakobille (Letters to Father Jacob, 2009) from the comfort of my friend’s sofa this past week. It’s the story of Leila, pardoned for her life sentence in prison, and Father Jacob, a blind old priest she is sent to help. He wants her help reading letters that people send him with their prayer requests. Father Jacob lives for those dwindling letters, and at first, Leila has no patience for God, Father Jacob, or his useless letters. 

If you are looking for action, this film is not one you should pick up. But it is full of character development tension, nature details and everyday sounds: a tea kettle boiling, a leaky roof, the summer wind in the birches, and the postman’s bicycle, that enhance its slowness and highlight its down-to-earth take on the timing and reasons for the intersection of these two lives.  Finnish minimalism is present in the storytelling and the simple musical score.  While this film is moving, it doesn't wallow in sentimentality.

Letters is one of those movies that I am still thinking about days later (and yes, I cried through it).   Both main characters are completely believable, even understandable, in their separate worldviews.  But their intertwining tale offers a redemptive window on human brokenness, perseverance and above all, compassion.  The view is excruciatingly beautiful.