ALL ABOUT THE MASTERS: Jim Jarmusch

In the world of cinema, I've always found the use of term "indie" a bit too liberal, as anything remotely outside the mainstream assembly line of films seem to be automatically referred to as "indie". Granted, I don't have much room to get huffy about it. After all, technically speaking, it's simply an abbreviation of "independent". Fine by me, but I've always found that "indie" defines a very specific brand of independent filmmaking, one that is stylistically (and many times visually) colorful with a signature quirk, wit, and edge. More often than not, they're charming movies in spite of the commonly morose subject matter - loss, grief, ennui, just to name a few topics - and how fascinating that no matter how quirky and charming the usual "indie" film is, it always remains grounded in its dark subject matter.

Though my desire to make a name for myself as a filmmaker isn't as strong as it used to be, it is still a goal of mine to independently write, produce, and direct a film at some point in my life. Because of this, I have a soft spot for indie films, even at their most laughably stereotypical. It was only natural that I approach the work of Jim Jarmusch sooner or later. I had not only read about his movies (most of which sounded very interesting), but I also noticed that a good handful of his titles were in the Criterion Collection, which is almost always enough to pique my interest in any movie. I was lucky enough to find a used Criterion copy of Stranger Than Paradise, which I snagged right away and immediately watched when I got home. This was the equivalent of me tripping over a rock and falling into the rabbit hole.

One of the first words that comes to mind when I think Jarmusch is "cool". Imagine an Andrew Eldritch-lookalike sitting at the edge of a hole-in-the-wall bar, a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, looking ponderously off into the distance. He's not asking for your attention, but you can't help but be drawn to him. A conversation with him might seem at first like an insignificant chat, but there was something about the way the conversation carried on with this guy that unveiled an undiscovered beauty in something as simple and unremarkable as everyday small-talk.What I'm getting at is this: if a human manifestation of the typical Jim Jarmusch film existed, it would be something like that.

And what I love most about Jarmusch is the humility that runs strongly throughout his work. There's plenty of room for debate here, but for me, he never seems like he's trying to be cool, edgy, unique, or anything like that (or at least trying too hard, anyway), contrary to the dime-a-dozen indie filmmakers out there today who are so desperate for the attention of cinephile audiences. Jarmusch always remains grounded in the seemingly unremarkable state of his characters and stories, and lets his movies play out as such. What he does instead, however, is honing in on that regularness and brings out the beauty in it. Even in otherwise less-than-stellar films like Coffee and Cigarettes, there is still success found in their reserved nature.

As I wrote that last paragraph, I had films like Night on Earth and Paterson in mind, and while my previous statements ring plenty true to those films, I doubt anybody would call the characters something like Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai "everyday people" (in that film's case being hitmen and the mafia). Even in movies like these, Jarmusch never, ever forgets what makes his films so charming, and continues to remain in the foundation of everyday charms...even in films about African American hitmen who live by the code of the samurai.

That said, this Jarmuschian foundation, so to speak, sometimes works against him. Case in point being Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, as a matter of fact. While not a bad movie by any means (and we'll be getting to that one very soon), I felt overall that it was a very underwhelming experience, which is double-disappointing considering the originality and coolness of the subject matter, especially the protagonist.

But I digress, because more often than not, Jarmusch has delivered one unique and unforgettable movie experience after another, even at his weakest points. While I've not seen every single one of his movies at the time I'm writing this personal introduction, the strong points currently outweigh the weak ones, and considering the man's track record, I doubt that paradigm will shift. I've been wanting to start this 'All About the Masters' series for a while now, and chose to start with Jarmusch after the recent arrival of a brand-new Blu-Ray copy of Broken Flowers. With a new film on the horizon (The Dead Don't Die), my inspiration is at full force and it is time to get the ball rolling, so without further adieu, stay tuned the next few weeks as Red Eye reviews the films of Jim Jarmusch one-by-one.

Here is a recap of what will be reviewed for this series:

Permanent Vacation (1980)

Stranger Than Paradise (1984)

Down by Law (1986)

Mystery Train (1989)

Night on Earth (1991)

Dead Man (1995)

Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999)

Coffee and Cigarettes (2003)

Broken Flowers (2005)

The Limits of Control (2009)

Only Lovers Left Alive (2014)

Paterson (2016)