Jim Jarmusch never met an actionless scene he didn't like and his latest film, The Limits of Control is chock full of them. His movies are typically slow with lots of dead air and this is no exception. It's rare that I see a movie and have no clue what it was about but this time I was left completely stumped without even a guess as to the overall theme. Like Vincent Gallo's infamous film The Brown Bunny, this movie is comprised of long shots of a man on a silent, solo journey with brief interactions here and there peppering the otherwise dialogue free desert. Unlike that film, the ending of Control does not explain everything that came before it. In fact, it somehow makes the whole endeavor even more confounding.I was confused when it started, perplexed as it continued and after a brief bout of sleepiness, I ended up bewildered and a bit angry. It certainly was beautiful to look at but what the hell was going on? It was 2 hours but felt like 23 so I give it a 3. Now will someone please explain it to me?
It was Jim Jarmusch's version of a David Lynch film. It had all the Lynchian hallmarks - internal dream logic, cryptic dialogue, repetitive imagery and a constant, creeping feeling of dread. Easily Jim Jarmusch's most difficult movie, I still found plenty to like in it. Gorgeous imagery, odd touches of humor, an amazing soundtrack heavily featuring Boris and an awesome and all too brief performance by Tilda Swinton. What was it all about? Was it a comment on the nature of reality? An exploration of the randomness of the universe? A Hitchcockian thriller with none of the thrills? Anyone?
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
2 comments:
i have not been able to pull the trigger on getting this from netflix and your review isn't helping it rise in the queue rankings.
I actually heartily recommend it. I love anything Jarmusch does and while this is certainly not my favorite it has a beautiful, hypnotic quality to it.
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