Dead Man (1995) ****1/2

I hadn't seen Dead Man (1995) in at least 15 years, but it remains my favorite Jim Jarmusch film. To me it's the perfect blend of his style—road movie, existential trip, lyrical dialogue, sumptuous black and white visuals, dry and darkly tinged wit, ensemble cast—all wrapped up in the western genre.

There is so much to appreciate about this film. Just to name a few things:

1. Robby Müller's gorgeous cinematography. This man shot some incredible films with some of the best directors: Repo Man (1984), Paris, Texas (1984), To Live And Die In L.A. (1985), Breaking The Waves (1996), along with Jarmusch's Down By Law (1986), Mystery Train (1989), and Ghost Dog: The Way Of The Samurai (1999). Dead Man may just be the most impressive thing he ever filmed though. Sadly, he passed away very recently.

2. That cast. Johnny Depp (when he was still vital) in a sparsely spoken role, emoting largely through his eyes and face only; Crispin Glover, being briefly weird and Crispin Glovery; Lance Henriksen, employing grimness and brutal unnecessary violence; Michael Wincott, chattering on incessantly in that gravely voice of his; John Hurt, annoyed and amused, scoffing at Depp's requests; Robert Mitchum, intimidating everyone and not giving a shit about anybody; Iggy Pop, waxing on about something historical and intellectual sounding while wearing an old maid's dress; Gabriel Byrne, broken-hearted and playing catalyst to Depp's William Blake's (not the poet) journey to the other side; Billy Bob Thornton, adding a bit comedic relief as a yokel; and Alfred Molina as one last easy target for Blake's "poetry." And of course, though he's not a well-known actor, Gary Farmer as Native American "Nobody" is pivotal to Dead Man, carrying the film (and, literally, Depp's character at times) with equal parts wisdom, humor, and gravitas. Jarmusch has made some excellent films with some truly great casts but he's never assembled this much talent together in one film before or since. A lot of the actors in this film have bit roles but they all feel necessary to the story.

3. Neil Young's absolutely otherworldly score, comprised simply of an acoustic guitar and an electric guitar saturated in reverb with occasional overdrive and delay effects. There really is no other score like this one—simple, repetitive, yet in danger of becoming unhinged, teetering right on the edge—at times a wail, at times an after thought, but never swallowing the onscreen action.

And that's just scraping the surface of a truly unique and poetic masterpiece.














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