Teemu Nikki & Petri Poikolainen's My World: “I was fascinated to put the audience in the wheelchair”

Chancing upon a morning screening of The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic at the 2021 Venice Film Festival resulted in one of the most absorbing cinematic experiences of my lifetime. The film’s 82 minutes were so taut that it seemed no one in the packed theatre moved or uttered a word until its conclusion, whereupon the audience broke into applause, with several attendees openly weeping as they exited into the daylight. The movie went on to win the Orizzonti Extra audience award at the festival.

Rather than falling for a stereotype of portraying those with a disability as victims, villains or tokenist inspirations, The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic is a minimal yet nuanced thriller and love story.

Finnish director Teemu Nikki (Euthanizer, All Inclusive) specifically wrote the script for Petri Poikolainen, a personal friend with multiple sclerosis (MS) who is in a wheelchair, blind and had never acted on camera before. The cinematography is shot from the main character’s perspective, with only one other person ever fully visible, and even then, only for a few seconds. Poikolainen is forced to carry the movie on his own, and he does so with a bold, funny and charismatic performance.

As a result of this minimalism (at one point in the film, the screen dramatically fades to black for more than a minute), sound acts as an immaterial co-star.

Teemu, who like Petri is 50 years old, states, “There is no traditional music score. We did have a score composed for the entire film, but decided not to use it. The sound design was more important. Every last noise is intentional. We asked Petri to listen to the sound design during the process and make sure it sounded like how he hears the world around him as someone without sight.”

Two songs feature prominently in The Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic. The first comes midway through a two-minute, 30-second sequence where Petri’s character imagines dancing with his long-distance amour, while the second is during the film’s finale. “I called Petri and told him the film’s story over the phone. Then I asked him to go to Spotify and play the song ‘Ikoni’ by Finnish singer, Pekko [Käppi & K:H:H:L], that is used at the end. We both cried. I knew that song had to end the movie as I was writing the film. The other tune that’s heavily featured is Jari Raaste’s ‘Ilmalaiva’. The crew all wept while we were filming the dance scene where that song plays.”

When it comes to music, the film’s star, Petri, recalls that the most powerful experience he ever had was a live performance by the Finnish group, Vesterinen Yhtyeineen. “At that time, I was already blind, so I couldn’t see the band, but I could feel them,” he explains. “They are talented and had a wonderful energy. After that gig, one of their songs, ‘Onnelinen Mies’, became my personal power song. I sing the refrain to myself often: ‘Once again, the world is cherishing its children / That’s what I want to say; life is thirst / Today, I am simply a happy man.’”

Teemu, whose diverse films often focus on Finland’s underbelly, states, “I tried to forget the disabilities of both the actor and the fictional protagonist, and just tell a story of a lonely man trying to find his way to his loved one. I was fascinated to put the audience in the wheelchair. The camera, the entire time, is at the same level as Petri’s character, Jaakko. We never look up or down at him. The camera does not pity him. It sees him just as a person. That is the most important thing.”

The director’s access to music was limited while growing up. “My parents are farmers and didn’t listen to any music when I was a child,” says Teemu. “My big brother had a room next to mine. I think the first sounds of music I heard came from his room. He had a record player and a small collection of heavy metal LPs. So, I grew up hearing Iron Maiden, Dio, AC/DC, Uriah Heep and Judas Priest. I still love the sound of 1980s metal, even though I don’t listen to it anymore. I’m always ready to ‘Run to the Hills’ [Iron Maiden] or to be a ‘Turbo Lover’ [Judas Priest].”

For Petri, it was Finnish rock legend Juice Leskinen who had a lasting influence. “In the 1980s, I was a fan of Leskinen’s work,” he explains. “At that time, it was difficult in Finland to get hold of music in any format. Luckily, my friend had a copy of Juice’s album, Dokumentti, on cassette. I copied it and listened to it a lot. The impact of Juice’s lyrics and the fact that he played all the instruments himself was huge.”

Teemu notes, “Finnish-language music remains very popular here. Many local artists who try to make music in English often have to switch back to Finnish. But I can remember Nena’s ‘99 Luftballons’ from Germany. I was nine when it came out. It was a foreign language song that had an impact on me. Otherwise, I’ve always liked bands from different countries, but they almost always sing in English only. I was particularly in love with J.J. Cale. I guess I always preferred old artists to the hit songs of the day.”

Nonetheless, both men remain proud of the music from their homeland. “Finland has a lot of good music. It would be impossible to recommend just one artist”, states Teemu. “But Pekko – whose song is featured in the movie’s final moments – plays the jouhikko, which is special. It’s an ancient, stringed instrument from Finland with a demonic sound.”

The film industry has long struggled with nuanced portrayals of disability and, worse still, has routinely ignored their presence entirely. The legendary disability rights activist, Judith Heumann (who featured in the Oscar-nominated documentary, Crip Camp, and passed away in 2023) wrote in her landmark Road Map for Inclusion: Changing the Face of Disability in Media report: “Media makers do not seem to be cognisant of disabled people’s absence. Why would they be? The current system is working quite well for them.”

On that point, Petri admits that the only disabled musical artist he has ever followed is Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli, “But I listened to him even before I became blind.”

Teemu is quick to emphasise the indie credentials of The Blind Man Who Did Not Want to See Titanic. “It was truly an indie film, and I tried to use only independent musical artists. We shot for only ten days – mostly first takes – and in Petri’s actual house. I usually know what I want, so I routinely don’t shoot many takes. Another reason for that, in this case, was Petri’s health. MS makes him tire easily. After the shooting, it actually took him a couple of months to recover.”

Petri remains philosophical: “I don’t want sympathy. I can’t speak for others. But to me, the most irritating thing is people often talk to me too loudly. They must think I’m deaf or stupid, not just blind. It’s sometimes quite frustrating.”

Unlike some in the film industry, who might feel entitled to greater acclaim or deserving of A-list treatment, Petri proclaims: “My dream of acting in a movie has now come true. From this point forward, my only dream is to try and live a long life.” Laughing, he adds, “That is, unless Coppola calls. Then I might reconsider coming out of ‘retirement’.”

Conversely, Teemu is far from the end of his film career. His eighth feature, 100 Litraa Sahtia (100 Litres of Gold), was recently in Finnish cinemas, while his new television series, Dorm No. 13, is currently airing on Finnish television.

Concluding, I ask Petri the near-inevitable question relating to his own film’s title. Has he himself ever actually watched James Cameron’s Titanic?

Petri chuckles and replies, “Yes, I have… and I loved it!”