Saturday, May 25, 2019

FILM REVIEW: Dead Man (1995)



Part of the Jim Jarmusch ‘All About the Masters’ Series

* * ½

Dead Man, Jim Jarmusch’s landmark Western, ends on a scene bordering on the Kafkaesque brand of surreal, simultaneously radiating as a moment of transcendent beauty, as a dazed and delirious Johnny Depp trudges through the pathways of a Native American village, inspiring strange yet sympathetic stares from the locals, all set to the screaming guitars of Neil Young’s background score. It was one of those moments that could almost spawn tears from my eyes in exhibiting the power that the cinematic experience holds. I sincerely wish I was as involved in the movie that led up to this incredible moment.

Is Dead Man a good movie? Ultimately, I have to say “no” to that question. I really don’t want to have to say that, because it is also a truly unique entry into the Western genre. Granted, the film stumbles too many times to be able to work. When it does work, though, it takes the viewer into a surreal rendition of the Western American landscape the likes of which we rarely see, if at all. For that alone, it’s worth a watch.

William Blake (Johnny Depp) is just getting off the train after a torturously lengthy trip from Cleveland. He has just arrived to the town of Machine. In one hand is his suitcase. In the other is a letter guaranteeing him work as an accountant for the metal works, run by John Dickinson (Robert Mitchum). When he arrives at his new workplace, though, the position has already been filled. Later that day, he gets involved in a fight that leaves him with a gunshot wound and with blood on his hands, after killing the very man who shot him. It turns out that the man killed was John Dickinson’s son. Now he wants vengeance, hiring three bounty hunters to track him down. Meanwhile, on the run, Blake has been taken under the wing of Nobody (Gary Farmer), a lone Native American who mistakes Blake for the famed English poet of the same name.

The opening scene sets the tone of Dead Man as a dreamlike trip into the rugged west, as well as signaling its biggest issue of the film: pacing. From the opening alone, a scene will fade in just to fade out within seconds without anything happening. Rinse and repeat for several minutes (I’m not alone in this opinion – take a look at the first paragraph in Roger Ebert’s review). In all fairness, regarding the opening in particular, it does add to the disorientation of the train ride, but it still doesn’t completely work, and as I’ve said before, this issue perpetuates throughout the entire movie.

One scene, something significant happens, but then it’s over before you know it. Another scene, nothing much happens, and goes on longer than it needs to. There’s nothing wrong with long scenes that exist purely for mood, but there’s no balance in Dead Man. Additionally, in a great twist of irony, one of the movie’s highlights adds to its awkwardness: Neil Young’s score. First off, it is absolutely incredible, as it wails with rugged screams, lamenting the nightmare that the American West had become – I think the music itself is the best part of the movie. That said, the score kicks in at inopportune moments, and makes dramatic situations become melodramatic, in turn just a hint laughable.

I feel like the performances never become what they have the potential to be, like everybody involved is holding back just slightly, save for Mitchum, who is the most magnetic part of the entire movie – too bad he’s not in the movie very long. Still, everybody gets the job done at least. Nobody overdoes it, but I feel like everybody had potential to give so much more to their roles than they actually did.

As much as it pains me to say this, I think the catalyst for every issue in Dead Man is from Jarmusch himself. His brand of filmmaking doesn’t quite suit the material or the atmosphere he’s going for. There were countless moments where I was being drawn in, and just when I was on the threshold of being completely entranced, Jarmusch brings in one of his usual tropes (namely his brand of comic relief) that just take me right out. Additionally, he’s not completely focused on what he’s trying to say – is this a criticism of the rugged foundation America was built on? Some sort of necessity for the White Man to get back in touch with nature and the spirit world? I acknowledge it could be both, but nothing comes completely into fruition.

The review you’ve read probably makes me seem like I saw nothing about it was good, but I assure you that it’s not all bad. When Dead Man does work, it’s an absolutely fascinating take on the western with some gorgeous black & white imagery. While ultimately unfocused, there are enough hints of themes on the rugged reality of the American Dream, even some bits of existentialism here and there, so if you were more involved than I was, it’ll definitely give you something to think about. There’s a lot of heart and sincerity to Jarmusch’s intentions in Dead Man, though, and I give him credit – I’d rather have unfocused sincerity than focused cynicism. With Dead Man, it’s the former, with a twist of originality.

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