It’s not that Aki Kurismaki’s Le Havre uses the director’s trademark deadpan humor to escape from life’s harsh realities. Rather, Le Havre’s exquisitely offbeat style and genuinely believable, quirky characters stand up as a commonsense solution to the film’s theme of the ethics surrounding illegal immigration. Andre Wilms is wonderful as a shoeshine man who hides an escaped stowaway (Blondin Miguel) from authorities who wish to deport him.
Wilms enlists an odd assortment of sturdy-in-their-seediness shopkeepers to help hide the kid. Jean-Pierre Darroussin, steely grimace unwavering, plays a tough if ambivalent police inspector. There’s a great scene of him walking in the local bar and every unwelcoming, menacing face turning toward him in unison. A knowing dog is around to steer Wilms in the right direction. The kid wants to find his grandmother. Wilms has a plan. Since he from his first scene established he may be poor but he’s hardly unworldly, his plan doesn’t surprise us. The people of this village do nothing less than reinforce our faith in humanity. Yet LeHavre is worlds away from sentimentality Of all the world’s finest film auteurs, Kaurismaki may be the most under-appreciated by American art film audiences.
8.5 refugees (out of 10)