Paterson

I decided to watch this film because of two friends who claimed they did not understand what is happening and that they did not know how to watch a movie. I saw the and the answer is simple. In fact, the answer is in the movie itself!

If you are a fan of William Carlos Williams or a fan of Archibald McLeish (both poets), then the answer is throughout the film. Unlike many of today's films, this one celebrates the essence of a film by just being a film. McLeish offers an answer in his poem, "Ars Poetica" where he asserts a poem does not "mean," it simply is.

Williams also offers an answer in his works: there is an inherent value in the the "thingness of things" whether it is the bowl of plums reference in this film or in the red wheelbarrow.

What Jarmush has given us is an excellent example of what these two poets told us years ago: there is value in the small and simple things of life. That is all this film is about and we are told, point blank, at the end of the movie: the Japanese poet asks Paterson if he, too, is a poet. Paterson says, no; he is only a bus driver. The Japanese poet says, "This could be a poem by William Carlos Williams."

And, indeed, that is what we have just seen.

It took us a while but we finally got around to seeing this movie, at home on DVD from our public library. As others have commented this is a very satisfying movie but difficult to explain why.

Adam Driver is really very authentic as Paterson, and he lives in Paterson, NJ. He is intelligent but quiet, every weekday he gets up a little after 6AM, eats his small bowl of Cheerios, and walks with his lunch to his job as a municipal bus driver. Golshifteh Farahani (of Iranian heritage) is his happy wife Laura who likes to decorate everything white and black, her home, her clothes, the curtains, even her cupcakes.

The story starts on a Monday morning and ends the next Monday morning. In between we see Paterson's daily life, his hidden passion is writing poetry in a little book he carries around with him. A punctual man he arrives to work early and sits in his bus, writing, until he is given the signal to start his route.

These are not your usual "Roses are red and violets are blue" type of poem, instead they are the thoughtful, non-rhyming sort, "Today I made my own sandwich, it gives me great pleasure to do so, I can let my wife sleep late" type of poem, although that is not one of them.

The movie is just a character study of a gentle and honest man just finding his own path through life, one week at a time. The script and situations also provide an appropriate amount of humor.

I can't possibly do justice to this movie because, frankly, I didn't understand it. I get that it is a sort of adaptation of the epic Paterson poem into a movie, but why would someone do that is beyond me. The acting was good, the direction was excellent, I sincerely cannot imagine a better movie adaptation of the subject, which is a bus driver called Paterson, driving his bus in Paterson.

Now, I guess there could be entire pages dedicated to the film. The way it was made, shot, the rhythm, the analogies to the poetic style, the artistic references in the script, the symbolism and so on. But really, what this film is about is a week in the life of a really introverted bus driver.

Bottom line: you need to be in a certain mood and be a certain kind of person to really appreciate it.

Paterson is a celebration of the small details in life. A poetic and charming love-story about a perfectly ordinary couple, living in a perfectly ordinary town.

The town in question is Paterson, New Jersey. Home of poet William Carlos Williams, comedian Lou Costello, and one of America's largest waterfalls. The man in question, in true Jarmusch style, is also named Paterson (played with pinpoint subtly by Adam Driver). Paterson is a hard-working bus driver who quietly goes about his duties, all the while allowing the scenery and eavesdropped conversation to inspire his main passion in life; writing poetry. Meanwhile, his girlfriend and the love of his life, played without fault by Iranian actress Golshifteh Farahani, is a stay-at-home creative. She spends her day baking imaginative cupcakes and making new curtains from scratch. The films narrative centres around a seven day week. Each day brings a new variation on the theme, and each moment a reflection on two people who wholeheartedly accept each other for who they are.

Paterson is a quiet and contemplative film that sits perfectly in Jarmusch's repertoire. It's a film about how people choose to live their life, regardless of the necessities to work and make money. Like poetry, the words and images flow with little dramatic tension or conflict. Jarmusch explained at Cannes that he intended Paterson to be an antidote to the modern action film, and if this is the case, I'll definitely be coming back for another dose.

I'm not sure if Jim Jarmusch ("Only Lovers Left Alive") in Paterson wants to make America great again by giving us his vision of the way it used to be, or is telling us that we only have to look around us to discover that it's great right now. Performed by a brilliantly authentic Adam Driver ("Midnight Special"), Paterson is not only the name of the city in New Jersey known for its resident poet William Carlos Williams, but is also his name. He is a poet whose Haiku-like verses (actually written by Ron Padgett) are reminiscent of the city's own poet William Carlos Williams. He writes a new poem every day (or finishes an old one) on the #23 bus he drives before and during his trip. Though his loving, energetic, somewhat scattered wife Laura (Golshifteh Farahani, "Finding Altamira") keeps asking him to make copies of them, he resists the idea, preferring to keep them in his secret notebook.

The film has little conflict, family dysfunction, or mental health issues. It is about what works and even (wonder of wonders) about a marriage that is not falling apart. Like most people with jobs and families, Paterson has a daily routine. There's too much variation in his day to call it a takeoff on Groundhog Day, but it does have that "same old, same old" quality. He awakes shortly after 6am, has a bowl of cereal that looks suspiciously like Cheerios, walks to his job driving the #23 bus through the streets of Paterson, listening in on conversations (often with a broad smile on his face) of passengers who talk about anything from Italian anarchists to boxer Hurricane Carter and comedian Lou Costello.

He comes home at six, corrects a leaning mailbox that moves daily thanks to his grumpy English bulldog Marvin (RIP), has dinner (some on the exotic side) talks with Laura who fills him in on the many projects she has going on including painting black and white circles on draperies, learning to play the guitar, and making cupcakes to sell at the local farmers market. He then takes Marvin for a walk and goes for a beer at the local pub where he chats with the owner Doc (Barry Shabaka Henley, "Carrie"), and often acts as a moderator between Everett (William Jackson Harper, "True Story"), a dramatic actor who desperately wants to reunite with his ex-wife Maria (Chasten Harmon.

The poems that Paterson reads as the words are flashed on the screen are not about odes to nightingales (though there's nothing wrong with that) but about down-to-earth things, such as one about matches, inspired by Ohio Blue Tip matchboxes that have disappeared from our lives. In "The Run," he says, "I go through trillions of molecules that move aside to make way for me while on both sides trillions more stay where they are. The windshield wiper blade starts to squeak. The rain has stopped. I stop. On the corner a boy in a yellow raincoat holding his mother's hand." In other poems he lets the world know how much he is in love with his wife, though he confides in us that he occasionally looks at other woman, something which as far as I know is still legal.

To Paterson, a poem should be simple and direct and he is moved by one such poem by a 9-year-old girl who recites it to him while she is waiting for her mother and sister. He complements her on her poem about a waterfall, remembering a few lines and reciting them to Laura when he gets home. Contrary to most films where, except for films about wealthy financial elites, work does not play a big role in the life of the characters, Paterson makes real what daily living is about for a majority of working people. The film has warmth and humor wrapped in a portrait of a city which has seen better days, a city in which Jarmusch creates a structure of closely observed small moments revealed with empathy.

Paterson is a man who is not looking for life to give him satisfaction but who brings satisfaction to it, a man who knows that satisfaction does not depend on accumulating things but in being grounded in who you are and what you can bring to the world. He comes to appreciate that poetry is not extraneous to life but that life itself is poetry. Although the film presents an idealistic picture of a city without visible slums, drugs, and crime which we know exists, Jarmusch may be providing us with a welcome counterpoint, showing us the way our cities should be and can be again.