As pleasurable as it is to revisit Kaurismäki’s distinctive vision of the world and the troubled humans who inhabit it – and at 81 minutes, the film is certainly short and sweet – one is left with the feeling of having seen it all before.

In an exploitative and cruel world, this shambling, quiet romance captures both the void of loneliness and the warmth of human touch.

By design, Fallen Leaves isn’t so much a romance as a series of gestures towards the idea of one. You can’t tell this kind of story any more, is the implication, but wouldn’t it be nice if you could?

In this delicate interplay of poignant storytelling, Fallen Leaves gently reminds us that, even within the seemingly unfeeling expanse of existence, pockets of goodness persist.