Thursday, January 24, 2008

There Will Be Blood


Critics often throw around the expression "tour de force" when discussing performances. I've used it myself several times in my film reviews. I am now, however, feeling somewhat regretful for having done so. I should have saved those words for this review because, up until now, no one has quite deserved them like Daniel Day-Lewis.

I saw There Will Be Blood this past Sunday and Daniel Day-Lewis' performance as Daniel Plainview is still haunting me. If the shocking and untimely death of Heath Ledger had not occurred in the meantime, perhaps I'd be even more haunted, but that tragedy has overshadowed quite a lot. Interestingly enough, when I think about Daniel Day-Lewis as an actor, I am very much reminded of Heath Ledger. Like Daniel, Heath was a brave actor who not only took on controversial roles but audacious ones as well. He mentioned to reporters how distraught he'd become after completing his work as The Joker in The Dark Knight. The Joker is extremely dark, twisted, and morally corrupt, and when an actor completely immerses himself in a role like that there are definite consequences. Daniel Plainview is a character not unlike The Joker and I have to wonder how Daniel Day-Lewis was able to pull off that performance so honestly and convincingly and walk away unscathed. While it moves and inspires me, it also terrifies the hell out of me.

I take comfort in the fact that Daniel Day-Lewis has been doing this for a long time. Although he has only recently begun tackling more villainous roles, he's been acting for over 35 years and has found ways to leave his characters behind even when he doesn't want to leave them behind. Having seen There Will Be Blood, I understand now why this particular character was the most difficult for him to walk away from. In order to create such a mammoth performance, he really had to shed every ounce of his true self and become this other man in mind, body, and spirit. I mean, the film is almost three hours long and Daniel Day-Lewis appears in nearly every scene. Daniel Plainview pretty much is this film, in fact, he may be bigger than it. There were definitely moments when I felt as though the frames of the screen could not contain him.

Now I have to attribute much of the success of this character to the way it was written, developed, and executed by Paul Thomas Anderson as the writer and director of the film. While There Will Be Blood is loosely based on Upton Sinclair's 1927 novel, Oil!, there is no doubt that the character of Daniel Plainview is a brainchild conceived by PTA and brought into fruition by Daniel Day-Lewis. This was a true actor-director collaboration and the result is a pure cinematic marvel. I feel like it's impossible for DDL to win an Oscar without PTA winning one as well. Look at Adrien Brody and Roman Polanski? The Pianist was a lot like There Will Be Blood in that one actor was required to carry the picture on his shoulders and the only way he was able to do it was because he had his director helping him pave the way. It's difficult for me not to root for the Coens in the Best Director category. However, to reward Daniel Day-Lewis for his work and not do the same for Paul Thomas Anderson just doesn't seem right. I'm sure Daniel would tell you the same.

Despite my ramblings about Daniel Day-Lewis' performance, there are many, many more aspects of There Will Be Blood worth checking out. First and foremost, Jonny Greenwood's score. Discordant, tense, and chaotic, Greenwood's string-heavy opus captures the mood of the film perfectly. With the exception of Bernard Herrmann's scores for Hitchcock's Vertigo and Psycho, I don't think I've ever encountered music that externalizes the emotion and psychology of a film in such a profound way. If Daniel Plainview doesn't scare the hell out of you, then the music certainly will.

And then we have Robert Elswit's cinematography. There is a scene in the film when one of the oil rigs catches fire, and the screen is blanketed in these rich, saturated oranges and blues. Beyond the rig are vast, empty fields that slowly become enveloped in a kind of monstrous black smoke. It's absolutely breathtaking, but what's more amazing is how Elswit manages to turn something so terrifying into something so beautiful.

Clearly I could go on and on about There Will Be Blood for hours, and left to my own devices I probably would. I think it's just one of these films that I love more with every day that passes and thus I want to talk about it with whomever will listen. I thank Paul Thomas Anderson and Daniel Day-Lewis for this labor of love they have given the world, and for whatever sacrifices they made to bring the film to life. It may not mean a lot to most people, but for me, it means everything.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Atonement


Every year there is that one film that gets so much Oscar buzz I can't help but reject it before I even see it. I call it the "too good to be any good" movie of the year. Most of the time, I'm right and the film just doesn't deserve the amount of praise it gets. But every so often, the "too good to be any good" movie of choice is actually really fucking good and I end up eating my words.

When I first started seeing ads for Atonement and learned it was another costume drama collaboration between director Joe Wright and actress Keira Knightley, I didn't get too excited right away. Sure, I loved Pride and Prejudice. However, I don't usually enjoy period pictures because they tend to have this kind of 'tough times with a candy center' thing about them that I really can't relate to. In other words, life is difficult for the characters for awhile but by the end, everything turns out peachy. While some may enjoy these romantic, Austenesque worlds, I prefer the cynical and gritty realism you're more likely to find in a Dennis Lehane or Jay McInerney novel.

That's exactly why Atonement threw me for such a loop. Here is a film that suggests it's going to keep you comfortable and safe within the confines of a wealthy 1930s English countryside estate, but it only takes a few minutes to realize that the backdrop is completely irrelevant. I mean, it might as well have been 21st century Las Vegas. People are selfish, foulmouthed, lustful, and unforgiving, and by the end it's nearly impossible to find a silver lining in the whole, sordid mess. And that's what is so great about the film. It was refreshing to see the way Atonement totally flipped the period picture on its head.

So maybe I'm not doing such a great job of selling this film to all of you hopeless romantics and eternal optimists. But to those of you out there let me assure you, the film transcends its pessimistic material. Atonement is a fantastic cinematic experience because while it is brutal and hard on the psyche, it is also very intoxicating and pleasurable for the senses.

So, unabashedly morose films may not be everyone's cup of tea. However, when these films have stunning cinematography, unconventional editing, and haunting soundtracks, how can you not be completely smitten with them? Yes, we live in a cruel world but we also don't live in a world as bewitching as the one in Atonement and that's why I am recommending it to cynics AND romantics alike.

I suspect the film will continue steamrolling its way through awards season but now I don't have to shudder and think, here's yet another costume drama getting acclaim simply because it's a costume drama. Perhaps I thought that way at one point, but now that I've seen the film, I know its secret. Atonement is not 'too good to be any good'. It's better.

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Once


Once, written and directed by John Carney, is a cinéma-vérité style film that follows two people in Dublin who meet on the street and discover they have a mutual passion for music. There are about a dozen songs in the film that are performed in their entirety so one could call Once a modern day musical. How it differs, however, is that it doesn't have any of the bells and whistles you find with modern Hollywood musicals. Firstly, the two leads, Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová, are non-actors in real life who were long time friends and musicians that wanted to help bring John Carney's script to life. Secondly, the film only cost about $150,000 which, as Richard Roeper so brilliantly put, wouldn't cover the catering bill on Dreamgirls. It's a breath of fresh air in every sense and if you're looking for a film that really inspires, Once is definitely one of those rare cinema experiences that will resonate with you for days.

Glen Hansard penned all of the songs in Once but when asked to play the role of Guy he originally turned it down. He wanted Cillian Murphy to play the lead because Murphy had the star power to bring attention to the film and because Hansard had little to no acting experience. Murphy would eventually pass on the project so Hansard agreed to be in the film. In an interview Hansard said, "Though I was initially thinking of using a good actor who could half sing, I quickly realized I should do it the other way around and get a good singer who could half act." And thank God for that. Hansard has one of the most chilling voices I've heard in a long time and when you combine it with the sweet, aching vocals of Markéta Irglová (who also plays piano in the film) you get one amazing collaboration. I also find non-actors to be much more interesting than real actors a lot of the time. If they don't try to act and simply let their natural personalities breathe on screen, the result is really compelling.

Like I mentioned earlier, Once is shot like a documentary. The camera is hand-held and much of the film takes place in some very intimate settings. As these two people learn about each other and fall in love with one another's raw talent and vulnerability, you feel as though you're a fly on the wall of something real unfolding before you. It's the kind of experience I don't think I've ever had watching a film. As luck would have it, Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová did bond on the set and began dating after the film wrapped. It makes what you see all the more beautiful simply because you feel like you're a part of something special being brought into fruition.

Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street


Sweeney Todd is an excellent musical to begin with so put into the hands of Tim Burton, Johnny Depp, Helena Bonham Carter, Alan Rickman, and Sacha Baron Cohen, there was really nowhere to go but up. I almost told myself to lower my expectations going in because I absolutely did NOT want to be disappointed by something I have been looking forward to for years. I don't think I needed to lower anything though because this one was nearly flawless.

What I love most about the film is that it stays very true to the musical while at the same time, if it had not been based on a Broadway musical, could just as well have been a self-sustained Tim Burton classic. As staples of Burton's, Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter infuse the film with a kind of creepy sublimity that is mesmerizing. The supporting cast is excellent and even though Sacha Baron Cohen appears only briefly, he is a force and steals all of his scenes. I really enjoyed Timothy Spall's performance as Judge Turpin's pesky minion, Beadle Bamford. He's one of these underrated actors who usually shows up in films with all of the star players from the Royal Shakespeare Company so unfortunately his performances are often overshadowed and overlooked.

The production value of Sweeney Todd is fantastic and the film should really be recognized by the Academy for its cinematography, art direction, and costume design. The cast also does an excellent job with Stephen Sondheim's musical numbers. While Johnny Depp definitely does not have your typical Broadway style voice, I almost enjoyed his own voice more so than many I've heard from actors trained in musical theater. I think it gave the character more edge and it set him apart from the rest of the cast which was refreshing.

While I always enjoy seeing cinematic adaptations of Broadway musicals, I was beginning to grow tired of the phenomenon, particularly following the disappointing Dreamgirls. Sweeney Todd has most certainly restored my faith in the genre simply because it seemed to want to do more than make money and attract Oscar attention. Tim Burton took the source material very seriously, brought together a group of enormously talented individuals, and created a unique and inspired piece of cinema I think will go down as one of the greatest Hollywood musicals of its time.

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Death Proof


For me, the highlight of Quentin Tarantino's cinematic oeuvre is still the opening of Reservoir Dogs. A bunch of guys in suits sitting in a diner talking about pop culture and the politics of tipping, well, it really never got too much cooler than that in my book. There's no denying that Tarantino has put a slew of fantastic moments on celluloid since he did so with the infamous speech about "Like a Virgin". What I love the most about that opening scene, however, is its simplicity. Unabashed banality...that is vintage Tarantino. And even though we all love the bloody shoot-outs, colorful Kung fu, and wickedly hysterical eye-pluckings, Tarantino's true gift is his ear for dialogue. I have and probably will continue to argue with people about this but you could take out every action sequence of every one of his films and still be left with a lot great cinema.

That being said, it's no surprise that I thoroughly enjoyed Death Proof, QT's contribution to he and Robert Rodriguez's 70s exploitation mash-up Grindhouse. I decided when Grindhouse came out, I would wait and see if Death Proof would ever be released on its own. I know QT and RR would be totally disappointed in my reluctance to take in the whole "grindhouse" experience, but unfortunately I've never been a huge fan of anything Rodriguez has done, with the exception of the first third of From Dusk Till Dawn. Plus all of my favorite film critics were recommending Death Proof over Planet Terror so I figured my intuition was probably correct.

Now a lot of people found Death Proof to be self-indulgent and dull. I can see why they would feel that way since the film is almost two hours long and the action sequences probably only take up about 30 minutes of that. The film is split into two segments, each segment dedicated to a group of girls doing various things you'd expect girls to do. They drive, they hang out at convenience stores, diners, and juke joints, and they talk...a lot. At first it takes some getting used to. When the 30 minute mark rolled around and I felt as though the movie had already been playing for hours, I was wondering if this one was going to make much of an impact. But something happened along the way. Suddenly I was sucked in and became totally mesmerized and fascinated by these women and their lifestyles. And the music is fantastic. If Tarantino has a good ear for dialogue, he's got an even better one for music. Between the two, the guy seriously owns the patent on cool.

And while I most certainly give all of the actresses in Death Proof mad props for owning all of their scenes, I've really gotta bow down to the hot chunk of grizzled sexiness that is Kurt Russell. He plays Stuntman Mike and when he's not being totally creepy and psycho, he's got a charm that extremely fun to watch. The scene between him and Vanessa Ferlito outside the Texas Chili Parlor was amazing. By the end of the exchange, I wanted to give him a lap dance. Russell is charismatic to say the least and it speaks volumes about his performance in the film because before Death Proof, the guy tended to leave me pretty cold.

Now while the dialogue sequences do comprise a majority of the film, the action sequences in Death Proof are worth the price of admission. Zoë Bell, a stunt woman in real life, plays herself and what she does in the final car chase showdown rendered me speechless. When you think about the fact that everything you're seeing is legit, the phrase "edge of your seat" doesn't even begin to describe the feeling. For people who are more into Tarantino's action than his dialogue, I would recommend the film simply for the last 15 minutes.

I have to say, it was more than a little refreshing seeing Quentin Tarantino return to his roots with Death Proof. I love that he has matured enough as a filmmaker to be able to pull off such a stunt heavy picture while still maintaining his integrity as a writer. This film demanded a kind of technical proficiency he wouldn't have ever imagined tackling back in the early 90s so it really shows how far he's come in that regard. But what impresses me more is how important dialogue and characterization still are to him. Even though he's established himself as one of the most interesting and provocative filmmakers of his generation, he still has the capability to bore and alienate his audience by focusing on dialogue rather than action. With Death Proof, you can clearly tell he doesn't give a shit whether or not he bores people, and that's exactly what makes the guy so damn cool.

Monday, November 26, 2007

No Country for Old Men



"What's this guy supposed to be, the ultimate badass?"

It's almost the end of November and I think I've finally found myself the best movie of 2007. While there is still a month to go and plenty of Oscar-fare left to see, I doubt anything can top No Country for Old Men. It may not have the soul-stirring edginess of Gone, Baby, Gone or the action-packed slickness of 3:10 to Yuma but it does have two things no other film has this year: Joel and Ethan Coen.

The Coen brothers have kicked out some of the quirkiest cinematic gems of the past 20 years, but after two critical and box-office flops (Intolerable Cruelty and The Lady Killers) in the last few years, I began to wonder if the creative pool was drying out. Perhaps that's the reason I was so enamored with No Country. It proved my theory wrong and with a vengeance. Like Fargo, The Big Lebowski, and O Brother, No Country is a world more than it is a film. While the movie is not based on an original screenplay (it was adapted from Cormac McCarthy's novel of the same name) you can't help but feel as though this story was written solely for the purpose of becoming a Coen brothers film some day. From the sound design and cinematography to the wardrobe and locations, every element of the film plays a key part in bringing this fictional world to life. Some people reduce the Coens' success to their skills as writers and the talented people they cast in their films. However, it is so important to realize how brilliant they are as filmmakers. Only a true visionary can take a simple story and turn it into something palpable.

Now I couldn't write a review of No Country without calling attention to the cast. Every actor in this film, whether in a bit part or a starring role, is fantastic. I give Joel and Ethan Coen mad props for making some rather unconventional choices in the casting decision. Here's a quote from an interview Entertainment Weekly did with Javier Bardem that illustrates precisely what I mean:

"When the Coens called, I said, 'Listen, I'm the wrong actor. I don't drive, I speak bad English, and I hate violence.' They laughed and said, 'Maybe that's why we called you.'"

The Coen brothers have a great knack for knowing when an actor will absolutely nail a character and their decision to cast Javier Bardem as Anton Chigurh is no exception. Chigurh is one of the strangest and most haunting individuals in recent cinematic history and much of that is because his appearance is so off-putting. He doesn't look or sound anything like your typical psycho-killer and I give a lot of credit to both the Coens and Bardem for putting so much thought into the portrayal of Chigurh. Bardem gives the character this sort of soft-spoken madness that is extremely scary to watch yet at the same time totally fascinating.

I also love that they cast Josh Brolin as the protagonist, Llewelyn Moss. This seems to be Josh Brolin's year (he's had starring roles in Grindhouse and American Gangster) but before 2007 he was pretty much the guy that was hired for the bit role because he was cheap. Brolin is not a critically acclaimed actor nor does he have box-office appeal. The Coens really took a chance giving him such an important role and I think it paid off beautifully. Brolin has a fantastic every-man quality and as Llewelyn Moss, he reminded me a lot of the great leading men of '60s and '70s Westerns.

Tommy Lee Jones is flawless as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell which shouldn't surprise anyone. What I really loved about his character was how similar it felt to Frances McDormand's Marge Gunderson in Fargo. Sheriff Bell is the glimmer of hope amongst all the bloody chaos and nihilism, and while the film doesn't make any attempt to provide resolution or closure, he is the one element that allows you to walk away feeling slightly optimistic. I attribute that not only to the greatness of the character as it was written but also to the warmth and compassion Tommy Lee Jones brings to the role.

I don't think there's anything left to say other than that everyone should see this movie as soon as is humanly possible. Yes, ticket prices are indeed ridiculous and you probably feel like you should be spending your hard earned dough on blockbusters rather than indie fare. However, I still encourage you to see No Country for Old Men in the theater because crappy popcorn movies will always be playing on the big screen but a classic Coen brothers film will not.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Gone Baby Gone


I think it's safe to say that this is the best film I've seen since Million Dollar Baby and that one shook me to the core. The thing I love the most about cinema is that you absolutely can never predict how a film is going to affect you. There's no rhyme or reason behind it. You just walk out of a theater moved, haunted, and changed without ever knowing what hit you. It's an indescribably beautiful phenomenon.

So can I even begin to put into words why I loved Gone Baby Gone so much? Well I'm here posting about it so I guess I should try. First and foremost, Casey Affleck's performance. Whenever I think about the expressions, or lack of expressions on his face, and the sad desperation in his voice, it gives me chills. Maybe it's knowing that he was being directed by his brother that makes the difference. I felt Casey's absolute dedication to getting this character right come out of every second he was on the screen.

And that brings me to the direction, the second biggest highlight of the film for me. I honestly had to keep reminding myself that Ben Affleck was the man behind it all. This is truly a tour de force for him. I loved how understated the performances were and how he was able to tap into the complexity of these characters without reducing any of them to stereotypes. By the end of the film you simply could not decide who was right and who was wrong even though every person in one way or another had done something terrible to someone else. I love a film that doesn't insult its audience by trying to convince it that the world is only one kind of place. While Gone Baby Gone does deal with the dichotomy of good versus evil and everyone's own personal system of ethics, I don't consider it to be a morality play. You never get the feeling that the film is being preachy and you certainly don't walk away with any answers.

Ben Affleck's direction and filmmaking style reminded me a lot of Clint Eastwood's which explains why this film had a similar effect on me that Million Dollar Baby had. I'm not sure if it's that Affleck and Eastwood were actors before becoming directors but I feel with both of them that there is this life force behind their films. And I don't mean that in a "man behind the curtain" kind of way where it's obvious someone is pulling the strings throughout. I mean that you can feel how dedicated they are to telling a story. When you look at every decision that had to be made by the director, i.e. who to cast as extras, how to light a scene, when to cut away, when not to cut away, when to push an actor to his/her limits, you realize how much a film is really a child born out of a director's passion and imagination. It is Ben Affleck who is responsible for every emotion and thought that will be experienced by the people who will watch his film and for that he really deserves to be commended.

One last thing I'd like to say about Gone Baby Gone is that it captures the city of Boston in a way I've never quite seen on film. I think what I love most about it is that this is Ben Affleck's hometown which everyone must know by now he loves and takes pride in. However, he doesn't glamorize the city and if anything he makes it seem like a pretty gruesome and brutal place to live. The people are hard, the streets are slimy, and you get a sense that those who are born there will never get out. I appreciate the fact that Ben Affleck respects Boston enough to show it as it really is. He cuts through the skin of the city and exposes its ugly insides and the result is absolutely beautiful.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Mystery Train


“I like playing with things happening at the same time and characters being in the same place, but not interacting and yet being somehow connected by some little threads.” –Jim Jarmusch

Jim Jarmusch followed up his first two films, Stranger Than Paradise and Down By Law, with his first color feature, Mystery Train. Like Stranger and Down By Law, Mystery Train involves nomadic characters that don’t seem to fit in with mainstream society. The film also contains a lot of natural and irrelevant dialogue exchanges many of which involve pop culture. In terms of style, however, Jarmusch seems to be expanding on techniques he employed in his previous films. For example, the tracking shot of Eva walking along the streets of New York in the opening sequence of Stranger becomes a staple cinematographic technique in Mystery Train as it not only illustrates the characters’ relationship to their environment but, through repetition, also helps strengthen the characters’ relationships to one another. The most obvious expansion is Jarmusch’s decision to shoot the film in color. Because Jarmusch has a predilection for black and white cinematography, his decision to use color is important and certainly not trivial or accidental. Its significance is something to be examined in relation to other areas of the film.

Mystery Train is a clear departure from Jarmusch’s first films in that it involves a more complex narrative structure. Jarmusch described his intent for the film as “episodic but simultaneous” which is exactly what Mystery Train is at face value. There are three episodes in the film and through a variety of cues it becomes apparent that the episodes are occurring simultaneously. What is most interesting about Mystery Train is that all three episodes are rich enough to stand on their own, yet the subtle connections between each of them breathe new life into the three storylines as they play out. Through color, mise-en-scene, sound, and editing, Jim Jarmusch is able to create important associations between characters in different episodes while still making certain that each episode maintains its own unique qualities.

Color


Jim Jarmusch often defends his decision to shoot in black and white or in color based on how he envisions the film in his own mind. Because Mystery Train functions on a variety of levels, one could argue that the film would work just as well if it were not in color. While that may be true, color serves a particular purpose that actually enhances the unique relationships the characters share in the film.

The color red is particularly noteworthy in Mystery Train. In making observations, it is impossible not to jot down the variety of red objects that appear throughout the film. The color red can be interpreted in a number of ways especially in the context of this particular narrative. One could argue that red reflects the distinct emotions the characters of each episode evoke. For example, the red lipstick in shot 55 between Mitzuko and Jun suggests a kind of passion and sexuality but it is a subtle suggestion simply because it is difficult to define what kind of relationship Mitzuko and Jun have and how exactly they feel about one another.

The red truck that appears most prominently in shots 197-212 when Johnny, Charlie, and Will drive around Memphis is another example of complicated symbolism. In this case, red seems to symbolize danger and impulsiveness as Johnny has just held up a liquor store and the three of them have proceeded to flee the scene. Just as with the red lipstick, however, perhaps what the red truck symbolizes is not as simple as it appears at face value. While Johnny did act impulsively and he, Charlie and Will did get themselves involved in a dangerous situation, the sequence where the three of them flee the scene of the crime, drive around and drink the liquor is rather comical in its minimalism. They don’t talk to one another, after awhile they seem completely unfazed by what has happened, and there is not the least bit of tension or hostility as they proceed to get more intoxicated and less coherent with every shot. Jarmusch has made a career out of offering his audience an alternative to mainstream Hollywood film devices and his ambiguous and often ironic use of color in Mystery Train is no exception.

Color, like the narrative of the film, also unifies characters. In each episode, one could argue that there is at least one red object that ties the characters together in a unique way. The most obvious example is the red suitcase Mitzuko and Jun carry around Memphis. A bamboo pole is attached to the suitcase which they use to carry the suitcase between them. The suitcase obviously brings them together in this way but it also provides a moment of conflict between them. This moment occurs when Jun wants to pack a few hotel towels but is unable to fit them in because Mitzuko has bought too many t-shirts. They quickly compromise as Mitzuko proceeds to put on several of the shirts to free up some room and Jun agrees to only pack one of the towels. The suitcase again unites them as they both work together to close it before leaving the hotel.

In the second episode, Luisa carries a red purse. While she and Dee Dee are packing up and getting ready to leave the room they shared together, Dee Dee inquires about the money situation. Luisa takes two hundred dollars from her purse which she then gives to Dee Dee freely. This is another instance of a red object representing an act of camaraderie or generosity.

Finally, there is the red truck in the third episode. Johnny, Charlie, and Will have a bonding experience of sorts in the truck after Johnny sticks up the liquor store. At first it seems as though Charlie is on the outside as he refuses to partake in the drinking. However, as the sequence plays out, instead of passing the bottle back and forth Charlie finally takes a drink. Despite Charlie’s best efforts to distance himself from the illegal activities of Johnny and Will, he eventually succumbs and all three men find themselves on a par with one another by the time they reach the hotel. After Charlie is shot, Will and Johnny help him into the back of the truck before fleeing again in the morning. The red truck has not only united these three characters but it also serves as the device that allows them to help one another out.

Mise-en-Scene

A lot of Mystery Train occurs in the Arcade Hotel and several aspects of the mise-en-scene help connect characters and contribute to the general narrative cohesion of the film. What is interesting is how the mise-en-scene repeats itself across the first two episodes but then subtly varies itself in the third episode. In Mitzuko and Jun’s hotel room, there is the radio chained to the nightstand and an Elvis painting on the wall. In Luisa and Dee Dee’s room there is also the radio chained to the nightstand and an Elvis painting on the wall. While this repetition is not surprising because hotel rooms are supposed to look like one another, it becomes comical when Johnny, Charlie and Will enter their room. The night clerk has appropriately given them the rundown “Room 22” as they themselves are bedraggled and falling apart. The painting of Elvis is not hanging but leaning against the nightstand. The frame of the painting is dislodged from the painting itself. On the nightstand there is also a loose chain hanging freely where the radio should be attached. It is as though the radio has been stolen by some previous delinquent guest and never replaced. Because the audience has seen the chained radio in the first two episodes, the sight of the loose chain is not a mysterious one. However, Charlie, drunk and clueless, looks at the chain with total confusion and inquires why it is there. Will responds, “That’s cause you’re in the kinky sex room.” Will’s response is amusing in its randomness, yet it takes on an even more humorous quality because the audience knows something that Will does not and that is due to the knowledge we have gained from earlier episodes.

Another amusing incident relating to the mise-en-scene has to do with the Elvis painting. The figure of Elvis is a recurring theme in Mystery Train as he is either scoffed at or idolized by different characters throughout. To the women, Elvis represents a godlike icon (Mitzuko), an angelic ghost (Luisa), or a foolish lover (Dee Dee). In other words, there is a longing and intrigue that oozes from the female characters when they encounter their own personal version of Elvis. The male characters are just the opposite. Jun is completely unaffected by Elvis and continuously tries to debate how Carl Perkins is in fact the real king of rock and roll. Johnny cannot stand the fact that his friends call him Elvis and ironically asks to be called Carl Perkins, Jr. instead. Relating this particular discrepancy about Elvis back to the mise-en-scene, the reaction Johnny has to the Elvis painting in the hotel room takes on a whole new meaning when compared to how the painting fits into previous scenes. Mitzuko stares up at the painting in her hotel room with awe and admiration and the painting in Luisa and Dee Dee’s room inspires Dee Dee to divulge with some fondness the details of her sordid relationship with a man people called Elvis. That man, who actually turns out to be Johnny, has an altogether different reaction to the painting. He recoils at the sight of it and says with disgust, “I can’t get rid of that fucking guy.” The moment is a hilarious one but more importantly it reduces this mystical and untouchable concept of Elvis established by the women in earlier scenes to exactly what it has become in this scene: an old, crooked, and decaying picture in a dilapidated room of a rundown hotel.

Sound

Sound is undeniably the most powerful unifying device in Mystery Train. Several different elements of sound help the viewer make sense of the narrative structure of the film as characters hear the same sounds from different locations, and this indicates that certain scenes are, in fact, occurring simultaneously. As with other stylistic techniques in the film, Jarmusch establishes a repetition and variation pattern with his sound design. The three main sound devices that connect the three episodes of the film are a radio DJ bit followed by Elvis’s “Blue Moon,” a train passing by near the hotel, and a gunshot. The sounds occur similarly in the first two episodes but they are given new meaning when presented in the third and final episode.

The three sounds occur in a somewhat similar fashion in “Far From Yokohama” and “A Ghost.” Mitzuko and Jun are in bed when “Blue Moon” comes on the radio in their room. (Shot 70) Luisa and Dee Dee are also in bed when “Blue Moon” comes on the radio in their room. (Shot 157) Jun is standing next to the window and talking to Mitzuko who is lying in bed (61) and the sound of a train can be heard off screen. This is followed by an extreme long shot (62) of the train moving along a track just above an empty street. There is also a shot of Dee Dee standing next to the window talking to Luisa who is lying in bed (153) and the train can be heard off screen. This is followed by the same extreme long shot (154) of the train.

“Lost in Space” incorporates these sounds in a different way so that the third episode becomes variation on the sound design established in the first two episodes. Johnny, Charlie, and Will do not hear “Blue Moon” in their hotel but in their truck as they drive around trying to find a hideout. This shot of them listening to “Blue Moon” in the truck actually follows a shot of Will’s truck driving down the street and below the passing train from shots 62 and 154. The sound and subsequent extreme long shot of the train is repeated here but the sound and image of the train become something different because Johnny, Charlie, and Will have now integrated themselves into the shot.

This repetition and variation occur once again with the sound of the gunshot. In both shot 74 and shot 176, the gunshot is heard when the characters are packing and getting ready to leave the hotel. Sound is again expanded upon in the third episode as the source of the gunshot is revealed. In shot 245, after Charlie struggles to wrestle a gun out of Johnny’s hands, the gun accidentally goes off causing the sound of a gunshot.

Editing: Repetition of Shots

Because the narrative of Mystery Train is a complex one, editing plays an integral role. While it eventually becomes evident that each episode is occurring simultaneously, there is very little in the film that is actually repeated. Characters from individual episodes do not run into one another as their scenes are being played out. The only real cues to the simultaneity of the film have to do with sound.

There is, however, one scene that does occur in one form or the other in each of the three episodes. The scene is played out for the first time in its entirety in shot 71 and it involves the bellboy putting on a pair of sunglasses followed by a conversation between him and the night clerk about fashion. The scene ends with the clerk making fun of the bellboy’s hat. It is clear that this scene occurs in real time right after the one in which Mitzuko and Jun are lying together post-coital because the song “Blue Moon” bridges the two scenes. There is a fade-out following shot 71 and then a fade-in precedes the next shot of Mitzuko and Jun waking up in the morning.

This sequence structure repeats itself in shots 171-173. Shot 171 shows Luisa still in awe of the Elvis ghost she has just seen. This is followed by a shot of the bellboy putting on the sunglasses. However, this time the shot is cut off before the bellboy takes off the sunglasses and he and the night clerk have the conversation about fashion. Again there is a fade-out and fade-in from shot 172 to 173 and shot 173 reveals Dee Dee waking up in the morning. If the technique employed in shots 171-173 is a repetition on that employed in shots 70-72, then shots 213-214 are a variation on that technique.

Shot 213 picks up where shot 172 left off. The bellboy takes off the sunglasses and he and the night clerk have the fashion conversation. Instead of having this scene cut off again like in 71, the scene continues to play out as a “Jiffy Squid” commercial comes on the radio following “Blue Moon” causing the clerk to recoil in horror and consequently turn off the radio. Following this shot is one of Will, Charlie, and Johnny arriving at the hotel. Because it has now become evident that the men’s arrival immediately followed the fashion conversation between the bellboy and the night clerk, it also becomes evident why only bits and pieces of the scene were played out in the previous two episodes. Through this technique, Jarmusch has somehow connected all three episodes with one similar shot while simultaneously avoiding having episodes bleed into one another.


With Mystery Train, Jarmusch has created three uniquely brilliant vignettes about relationships and the strange yet beautiful way people communicate with one another. While it is a clear departure both stylistically and narratively from his earlier work, Jarmusch has not abandoned his love of the little things. Mystery Train contains so many tiny details that it would take several viewings of the film to discover all of them and truly appreciate their importance. This quality that Jarmusch’s films possess is an important one because if his films continue to be watched, the characters and the worlds he creates continue to exist as well. Jarmusch has an undeniable ability to instill in his audience a desire to give his films a closer look, and it is precisely this ability that makes Jarmusch one of the most important American independent filmmaker of his time.