
Lauri-Matti Parppei’s 2025 work A Light That Never Goes Out sets aside the traditionally distant and austere forms of Nordic cinema to offer an intimate examination of one of the greatest pains of modern individuals: burnout. By 2026, as cinema audiences increasingly turn toward narratives of survival and recovery rather than success stories, this film transforms art from an achievement into a support system. Pauli (Samuel Kujala), a classically trained musician whose pursuit of perfection leads to mental collapse, returns to the coastal town where he grew up. This is not merely a change of location, but an ontological crossroads concerning the very nature of creativity. The film’s core energy springs from the sharp contrast between Pauli’s sterile world of control and Iiris’s (Anna Rosaliina Kauno) chaotic, experimental “noise” art.
The film represents a creative reset wave that refuses to view the artistic process as a hierarchy or proof of “genius.” The unconventional bond Pauli forms with Iiris whispers a truth to the viewer beyond mastery: art functions as a lifeline not because it is flawless, but because it is alive and felt. Drawing on his own background as a musician, Parppei uses technical command to treat the messiness of rehearsal scenes, unfinished ideas, and raw sounds not as aesthetic flaws but as emotional textures. This approach resonates directly with the “optimization fatigue” of the 2026 cultural climate, arguing that the amateur spirit and the act of play are more revolutionary than professional success.
From an industry perspective, the film’s premiere in the Cannes ACID section signals that Nordic independent cinema has entered a new phase of maturity—one that moves away from melodrama toward emotionally accessible, soft storytelling. Depression is portrayed not as an explosive crisis but as a quiet, cumulative condition, making the process of recovery slower, stranger, and therefore more believable. A Light That Never Goes Out invites the audience not to admire Pauli’s talent, but to share in the relief of the moment when impossible standards finally loosen. In this new cinematic language—where art is not a ladder but a horizontal, shared plane—success is redefined not as “winning” but as “being able to stay together.”
Ultimately, Parppei’s vision strengthens the thesis that creativity can only truly survive once pressure is removed. By refusing to force its characters into grand transformation or heroic arcs, the film grants them breathing space. In the anxiety-laden, performance-obsessed social structure of 2026, this narrative—choosing “being good” over striving to be “the best”—positions art not as salvation but as companionship. In this journey where noise becomes a lifeline, the fragile world Pauli and Iiris build reminds us that the key to creative sustainability lies not in perfection, but in listening to the vital noise produced by others.





