TIME OF ROSES offers a glimpse into early Finnish sci-fi cinema
Time of Roses
Directed by Risto Jarva
Written by Risto Jarva, Jaakko Pakkasvirta, & Peter von Bagh
Starring Arto Tuominen, Ritva Vepsä, & Tarja Markus
MPAA Rating: Not Rated
Runtime: 106 minutes
Available from Deaf Crocodile this spring
by Clayton Hayes, Staff Writer
Time of Roses (aka Ruusujen aika), originally released in 1969, holds the distinction of being one of the first (if not the first) science fiction feature made in Finland. This came as a bit of a surprise to me as post-WWII Finland had close cultural ties with the USSR which, though most famous these days for its sci-fi films of the 1970s, produced plenty of sci-fi literature and cinema throughout the 20th century. Finnish New Wave directors (and frequent collaborators) Risto Jarva and Jaakko Pakkasvirta founded the production company Filminor in the early 1960s and, after making a few comedies, transitioned to more socially-conscious fare like Roses.
Which seems as good a way into this review as any, and the dystopian flavor of the social commentary in Time of Roses should feel familiar enough to readers of mid-century anglophone works like Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 or George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. As the world of the 20th century crumbled around it, Finland managed to make it through relatively unscathed. But, as is always the case, in 2012 (when the film is set) the status quo won’t maintain itself, and the Institute of History produces propaganda to keep the masses sated. Roses’ conflict arises when prominent researcher Raimo (Arto Tuominen) meets Kisse (Ritva Vepsä), a dead ringer for the 20th century woman whose life Raimo hopes to turn into a documentary. There is, of course, a subversive element in this dystopian Finland, and it transpires that Kisse is part of a plot to turn Raimo to their cause.
I quite liked the primary theme that Jarva, Pakkasvirta, and co-writer (and fellow director) Peter von Bagh tried to explore in their screenplay. Though far from the first work of fiction to identify control of information as an important political tool, Roses is more narrowly focused on the power of storytelling. Raimo’s role, and indeed the role of the entire Institute of History, is to craft historical narratives that support those in political power; for example, producing a televised documentary to discredit a group of striking power plant workers. As is almost always the case with this sort of dystopian fiction, Raimo does not recognize himself as a political actor. As far as Raimo is concerned, things are the way that they are and he’s just genuinely passionate about doing his job.
This is all great, and makes for an interesting story, which is why I struggle with how much of the plot of Roses is given over to the romance between Raimo and Kisse. It’s true that the emotional impact of the film hinges on Kisse developing genuine feelings for Raimo, but he is so devoid of any redeeming features that I don’t know if it’s possible for the film to have pulled this off. To be blunt, Raimo acts like a piece of shit pretty much throughout, and the only justification for Kisse’s attachment to him is the (very tired) cliche that she thinks she can “change him.” This completely undermines the film’s attempt to engage thematically with the appropriation and exploitation of a woman’s image in order to prop up a particular political narrative.
That’s not to say Time of Roses doesn’t have its merits. Fans of kitsch will have plenty to appreciate in the imagined world of 2012 Finland, and the production design is such that we accept the characters believing in their world even if we don’t. There’s plenty of silliness, like a sort of sexy rugby/basketball hybrid, some drug-fueled pseudo-orgies, and futuristic dances that involve lots of hand-waving. Raimo’s inflatable furniture is quite fun and, eventually, has a bit of a part to play in the plot as well. I also feel I need to mention the very odd-sounding translation of a newspaper headline that pops up about 27 minutes; I wish I knew Finnish because the Google translation has a much different impact than the one provided on-screen. If anybody out there can shed any light on this I’d love to hear from you.