23 May 2017

Now & Then (Part 2): A Final Journey

For our occasional series, we previously reviewed the latest from indie legend Jim Jarmusch, "Paterson."  Today, we go back in time and revisit his early masterpiece "Dead Man." (Previous Now & Then entries are here and here and here and here.)

DEAD MAN (1995) (A) - There was a time when Johnny Depp could be a revelation. And when he signed on to give Jim Jarmusch mainstream credibility, the result was a win-win.

With his fifth major film, Jarmusch begins to put it all together, hitting his stride, while solidifying the new-age mysticism that will find him wandering off the beaten path in nearly every other film he'll make going forward. He even expands his comfort zone to tell a period piece from the Old West, set in the late 19th century.

Depp plays William Blake (like the poet), a nebbish who travels from Cleveland to the town of Machine, Ariz., to assume an accountant's job that he has been promised in that god-forsaken town. The train ride takes up an extended opening scene, in which a panoply of oddball characters come and go, one of whom (a coal-faced Crispin Glover) warns him about the perils of the new gig, just before a bunch of lugs start shooting from the train windows out at buffalo.

Upon arrival, Blake enters a dystopian factory setting and is promptly informed by the owner, Mr. Dickinson (Robert Mitchum in one of his final roles), that the position has already been filled, and he is asked to leave at the point of a gun. Blake then meets up with an ex-hooker, shacks up with her and, in self-defense, shoots her intruding lover (Gabriel Byrne), who happens to be Dickinson's son. Blake -- himself wounded near the heart -- flees on a stolen horse, a wanted man.

Thus begins his journey through some version of purgatory or the after-life. Weakened by his wound, he meets up with Nobody (Canadian character actor Gary Farmer), a wise but practical native American who nurses and guides the man named after the great poet, and helps him elude a three-man posse of lowlifes that Dickinson has sicced on Blake's trail. Nobody likes to rail against the "stupid" white men who are wreaking havoc over the sacred lands in their raw allegiance to capital and industry. Jarmusch here deftly avoids cliches with this mystical native. He doesn't have super powers or God-like insight, but he does know how to outfox the three headhunters, which includes a psychopathic cannibal (Lance Henrikson, "Alien") and a chatty sidekick (Michael Wincott, "Alien: Resurrection"). Another trio, living in the woods, includes Iggy Pop (in a dress) and a young Billy Bob Thornton (whose name is misspelled in the opening credits) workshopping an early version of Karl Childers from "Sling Blade." You can sense an influence in these wacky troikas (and going back to early Jarmusch (e.g., "Down by Law")) on both Quentin Tarentino and the Coen brothers.

Shooting in his familiar black-and-white, Jarmusch pays deep homage to America's frontier past while serving up this fable with a wry contemporary sensibility and a dry sense of humor. He is in command of his material, sure-handed behind the camera, and riffing as if he could no wrong. Like his lead character, the writer-director seems to be embarking on a vision quest and prying at the mystery of life and death. A haunting, eviscerating electric-guitar soundtrack by Neil Young ratchets up the tension at every critical turn.

Depp may strike some as too thoroughly modern to blend in with this cast of misfits, but, nestled chronologically between the camp of "Ed Wood" and the gravitas of "Donnie Brasco," brings soul to his character as well as a touch of child-like wonderment. Other cameos include Alfred Molina as a trading-post proprietor and John Hurt (more "Alien") as an irascible office manager.

Jarmusch, 11 years after his breakthrough "Stranger Than Paradise," is at his peak over these two hours, and after it made its mark, "Dead Man" stood as a landmark in independent Second Wave cinema. (Chicago Reader critic Jonathan Rosenbaum considered this "acid western" the best film for the 1990s.) And, like good poetry, it has withstood the test of time.

BONUS TRACKS
Let's take a crack at listing, in order, our favorite Jarmusch films. Some we haven't seen in a long time, so we might revisit this exercise down the road:

  • Stranger Than Paradise (1984)
  • Dead Man (1995)
  • Down by Law (1986)
  • Broken Flowers (2005)
  • The Only Lovers Left Alive (2014)
  • Mystery Train (1989)
  • Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999) 
  • Night on Earth (1991)
  • The Limits of Control (2009)
  • Paterson (2016)
  • Coffee and Cigarettes (2003)
  • Permanent Vacation (student film, 1980)
Not seen: His two documentaries, "Year of the Horse" (1997) and "Gimme Danger" (2016) (review coming soon).

And here's the theme song from Neil Young:


 
   

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