DAILY FILM DOSE: A Daily Film Appreciation and Review Blog: Jim Jarmusch
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Showing posts with label Jim Jarmusch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jim Jarmusch. Show all posts

Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Down By Law

The '80s were not kind to American indie cinema. For the most part, gone were the 1970’s mavericks, and with them the distributors and studios willing to bank them. And so, smack dab in the middle of the American conservative cinematic establishment stood the fiercely idiosyncratic and subversive Jim Jarmusch, revelling in the piss and vinegar of life. How remarkable and ironic it was for the director whose creative peak was this decisively uncreative period. 'Down By Law' sits right on top of Jarmusch’s creative peak, a beacon for the future Steven Soderberghs, Quentin Tarantinos and Paul Thomas Andersons.


Down By Law (1986) dir. Jim Jarmusch
Starring: John Lurie, Tom Waits, Roberto Benigni

By Alan Bacchus

Like Jarmusch’s previous Permanent Vacation and Stranger than Paradise, Down By Law sympathizes with the lost souls of the '80s, the weirdoes who couldn’t fit into Reagan’s America, the ones left behind by the sanitization of an extreme free market capitalist mentality. What an inspired trio of actors who fit together in the most unconventional of ways. John Lurie and Tom Waits, for instance, communicate more with their charismatic and intense faces, and Roberto Benigni is a comic sparkplug who lights up every scene he’s in.

There’s only a whiff of a story, the opening scenes of which show how petty criminals Zack (Waits) and Jack (Lurie) – similar names which makes for a great gag with Benigni – fall victim to unfortunate circumstances and find themselves unlawfully in prison. Their days languishing in the jail consist of playing poker, waiting for the guards to light their cigarettes and arguing. Enter Roberto, a naïve tourist who also finds himself in prison inexplicably for manslaughter. Without Roberto, Zack and Jack are like oil and water. But with him in the room they are in harmony. It’s Roberto who hatches a plan to escape (with relative ease), which has them on a Tom Sawyer-like journey through the Louisiana bayou to freedom.

The joys of Down By Law exist in the silences. Jarmusch features long static takes skewed with wide angle lenses. But even in these most undramatic of moments it never feels like dead air. It’s the faces and attitude of his characters that create the pulse of the film. John Lurie in particular, the standout from Stranger than Paradise is interminably watchable even when he’s not doing anything. Even as a pimp trading women on the street he’s a loveable doofus. And Tom Waits brings a laid back coolness, as he's unaffected by anything that crosses his path.

Without being a rock and roll movie, Down By Law has the spirit of the lifestyle without the music. Certainly Tom Waits' presence helps create this feeling, but the key is Jarmusch’s distinctly slacker mentality even before there was such a term. The characters simply exist without any dramatic artifice. Zack, Jack and Roberto are the genuine article oddballs whom we simply want to observe being themselves fighting their way through a conformist sterile world.

***½

Down By Law is available on Blu-ray from the Criterion Collection.

Saturday, 17 March 2012

Dead Man

Dead Man (1995) dir. Jim Jarmusch
Starring: Johnny Depp, Gary Farmer, Lance Hendrickson, Michael Wincott, Robert Mitchum

***½

By Alan Bacchus

Jim Jarmusch's idiosyncratic western plays like a delirious Coen Bros. movie, which also fits into the auteur stylings of the man whose Stranger Than Paradise and Down By Law are two of the best movies in a dismal decade.

In Dead Man it's much the same, but set in the western frontier. Johnny Depp plays an accountant from Cleveland named William Blake, who travels west for a new job but becomes an outlaw on the run from a maniacal trio of desperado hit men.

It's a great cast, with the core relationship being Depp's character and a wandering Indian (Gary Farmer), who combine to form a unique cinematic buddy relationship. It's a great heartwarming performance from Farmer inspiring every other supporting character.

Look out for Robert Mitchum at his grizzled best playing the loose cannon entrepreneur hunting down Blake. The trio of Billy Bob Thornton, Iggy Pop and Jared Harris makes a great sequence in itself. Iggy Pop wearing a dress is weird enough to capture our attention, but look for a then unknown Billy Bob, who steals the scene.

Mixed into the thought provoking Native American mysticism of Gary Farmer are some very bloody death scenes and set pieces of rather shocking violence. Gabriel Byrne's brief appearance is marked by an inspired gunfight and two awesome death scenes.

Robbie Muller's black and white photography is beautiful, evoking the idiosyncratic mood of Jarmusch's early films.

Dead Man is memorable because there's just something not right at every turn in this picture - Eugene Bird playing a black hit man for sure, Crispin Glover playing a batshit crazy train porter, Neil Young's whiny guitar score and even the fade outs, which mark the beginning and ending of each scene.

And yet we wouldn't want anything normal or expected in this film. It's a haunting, beautiful and strange cult classic.

Dead Man is available on Blu-ray from Alliance Films in Canada.

Saturday, 3 July 2010

Stranger Than Paradise

Stranger Than Paradise (1984) dir. Jim Jarmusch
Starring: John Lurie, Richard Edson, Eszter Balint

****

By Alan Bacchus

Stranger Than Paradise is as weird as Jim Jarmusch looks, an unconventional, sparse, deadpan indie darling which is mostly about ‘nothing’, yet is full of cinematic freshness, it’s easy to see how a film like this poked the fire of the independent film movement of the late 80’s, early 90’s.

Shot in stark black and white and set among barren apartment buildings, and even more barren New Jersey exteriors, the film works on a number of intriguing levels. Though very little actually happens, if anything, as a theme, the film pokes sharply some holes in the notion of the capitalist dream.

Remember this was 1984, when the cold war ramped up, especially in cinema. In mainstream movies it was Capitalism Freedom vs. Soviet Bloc Communism. Here the central conflict is the relationship of recent Hungarian immigrant Eva (Eszter Balint), and her American cousin Willie (John Lurie). We’re not explicitly told why Eva’s here, or what kind of a life she led in Hungary, but we assume her journey is the same as most of everyone’s else – the achieve the dream. Willie is the ass-end of this dream - a scheming slacker who looks out for nobody but himself.

At every turn Willie seeks to exploit the system – gambling, petty crime, eating from TV dinners. Willie’s buddy Eddie (Richard Edson) is along for the ride and is too passive to challenge Willie’s alpha-status, but he’s quietly attracted to Eva and so he sticks around no matter what kind of bullshit he slings. In fact, it’s been years since both men probably had a girlfriend which makes the introduction of Eva so invigorating. And so when Eva leaves for Cleveland, the void in their lives is palpable which spurs them to go on a roadtrip to find her.

The journey, which takes them from New York, to Cleveland and eventually to Florida, is a metaphor for each of the characters’ search for the real heart of America. Yet for Willie it’s the work that he’s unable to do which would allow the skies to part and thus shine some sun on his life.

It’s a comedy of errors for the trio. Cleveland is a bore and when the two boys foolishly gamble away all their money, it turns their Florida vacation sour. The bizarre ending is a fun bit of revenge for Eva for valiantly suffering through Willie’s tomfoolery, as a woman easily exploiting Willie and Eddie’s virginal desires.

The joys of this film lies in the lengthy silences, deadpan off-reactions, and general feeling of awkwardness which is Jarmusch’s playpen – a style which would influence many of the later works of the other ‘Sundance Kids’. If anything, this is the reason why Stranger Than Paradise is credited as the beginning of this movement.