If you didn’t know anything about the Moomins, you may assume the origins of the fantastical hippo-like creatures to be insignificant or mundane. After all, there are numerous popular cartoons. But none of them have the creator that the Moomins had: Tove Jansson, the Swedish-speaking Finnish artist with an endlessly fascinating life full of disruption, wonder, and heartbreak. This is the essence of what director Zaida Bergroth captures in her beautiful, poetic drama Tove, following a period of change and becoming in Jansson’s life and how the Moomins came to represent something much deeper than they might appear.
Screening as part of BFI Flare, Tove is lyrical in its portrayal of the young artist Jansson, played enchantingly by Alma Pöysti, in 1940s wartime and post-war Helsinki. The figure of Tove’s father, a highly acclaimed sculptor, looms over her attempts to fit her creative and modern artistic style into the stuffy, hierarchical world of art. He also snubs her joyous, innocent-looking illustrations, but the counter to this criticism is the younger and more experimental Finnish intelligentsia. Tove’s dalliances amongst the bohemian artistic community are certainly full of atmosphere; scenes of boozy dancing and human joy abound. The parties and socials also serve as a bridge to the distance she begins to feel from traditional norms. Yet, her abrupt entry into exploring her own bisexuality comes unexpectedly when she meets the alluring Vivica Bandler, a dapper socialite. Enamoured by the married woman, Tove is swept up in an impassioned and secretive affair which forms the basis of a realisation about her sexuality and the direction her life is heading.
Gradually, the relationship is revealed to suffer from an uneven dynamic, as Tove’s utter fascination with Vivica, and by proxy just being with a woman at this time, is not reciprocated. Vivica is an endearing character: daughter of the Mayor of Helsinki, she has created a buzz around herself as an upper-class funder of the abstract arts. Through Bergroth’s engrossing direction and the mysterious magnetism portrayed by actress Krista Kosonen, it becomes painfully clear that Vivica is more invested in torrid but fleeting romances than long-term, deeper love – something which Tove struggles to comprehend and get over. But Vivica’s contribution to Tove’s life direction is unmistakably central to the development of her personality and securing the inner peace of her fiery yet uncertain spirit.
It is notable that both Vivica and Tove live in the shadow of their more conventionally successful father, in Tove’s case painfully so. This subtly speaks to the patriarchal dominance in Finnish, and indeed all of European society at the time, with structural barriers to independent ideas and the reinforcement of traditionalist views lurking behind many scenes. This also adds another layer to the danger and clandestine nature of their affair, with homosexuality still being illegal in Finland during the 1950s. Tove’s father is not an overly present character himself but the air of his judgments and differing worldview hangs over Tove’s agony in making artistic and lifestyle choices, always overtly aware of the gravitas of her surname and the expectations this entails. But as time passes, transgressive art seems to find a niche within the community, thanks to the efforts of the cast of bohemian characters introduced. This also serves as a subtle commentary on the slow progress of societies in accepting different ideas on gender, sexuality, and love. This is a testament to the strength of Begroth’s art of world-building and bringing the audience into her vibrant creation.
Pöysti, in portraying the unconventional and profound titular character, truly captures the equal parts magic and suffering of Tove Jansson, who is a captivating figure to learn more about, even independent of this piece. Everything from Tove’s style and dialogue to her impulses and failures are mesmerising, there is no chance nor any reason to ever look away. The supporting cast adds nuance and lingering touches of words unsaid to many scenes, building up the picture of Tove as a soul whose sensibilities and free spirit have evidently touched many around her.
Begroth’s direction adds a stylish flair to a tale of unreciprocated love, and how a visual artist ended up channeling her energy into loveable creatures which appealed to children the world over. Shot on 16mm film, Tove has a beautifully coloured texture to it which makes the individual scenes deservingly emotional, or sexual, when needed. With no scene wasted, the piece parcels itself into an enticing biopic. The film is ultimately successful in bringing depth out of the Moomins, showcasing what many of the illustrations and symbols in the cartoons represented to their unique and flawed creator at a time of self-discovery. The complexity of Jansson’s life effortlessly contextualises the deceiving simplicity of the Moomins’ stories, exposing the amount of heart and soul which really went into bringing these odd and charming cartoons to life.
