She’s an ex-con, angry and ready to explode. He’s a retired, blind, elderly priest, unaware of much around him. Put these very dissimilar characters together, and watch what happens. That’s the set-up for the 2009 Finnish film Letters to Father Jacob, directed by Klaus Härö and available on Amazon.
How does it play out? It could have been a comedy, or perhaps even a horror movie. Instead, this is a quiet but strangely compelling drama, set in the countryside of Finland.
Letters is the story of Leila, convicted of murdering a family member, who as the film begins is pardoned after 12 years in jail. There are not a lot of jobs out there for middle-aged women newly released from prison, so she reluctantly takes a position offered to her as assistant to Fr. Jacob. Her main duty is reading aloud his daily mail – prayer requests from needy, lonely people. Fr. Jacob lives for his role as intercessor for his scattered flock. Based on a story by Jaana Makkonen, Letters takes us stage-by-stage through Leila’s metamorphosis, from sullen pragmatist, grudgingly bulldozing her way through one letter after another for her blind boss, into a compassionate champion of the old man. After a number of humiliating turns in his life and ministry, Fr. Jacob undergoes a dark night of the soul. In a surprising turn of events, Leila is the one who helps him crawl his way out of hopelessness.
Letters brings its protagonists together at a critical time in their lives. In a curiously poignant way, they are made for each other, as they both come to grips with the difficult cards they’ve been dealt in life. He, though blind, is alert to the light of love. She, though sighted, is blind to the possibility of joy. The power of prayer, the meaning of friendship, the lessons that can be found in both helplessness and selflessness – all these themes come together, captured in simple but lovingly presented scenes.
It’s not a film I wanted to enjoy. Watching it is not entertaining in the usual sense of going to the movies. There are no thrilling action scenes or special effects, no big name actors. The story moves slowly, with an emphasis on the sounds in Fr. Jacob’s blind world – whistling teakettles, rain pattering on the window, creaking floorboards in his old wooden house. But I found it terribly moving, like a quiet interlude in prayerful contemplation of what is important in life.
In a way, this is a film that endorses the “slow” movement. It reminds us of the significance of ordinary actions, like sitting down and having a cup of tea with the people we care about, instead of always rushing around and making a lot of noise that signifies nothing. Letters sets our speed dial back a couple of notches to help us advance on a deeper level, which much of the time we try very hard to avoid.
