FILM REVIEW: Night On Earth (1991)

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

~ Greatest Favorite ~

As I’ve been writing about Jarmusch exclusively this past week, I’ve begun to truly realize what makes his films. It is not so much his way of capturing the mundanity of everyday life, but the beauty of that same mundanity. Yes, there is beauty to be found there. Think about that one day when you thought you were just going about your business, and then you got wrapped up in some sort of interaction with somebody. Maybe it was one of those talks that somehow got into existential territory, maybe it was just a discussion about music. Either way, that conversation wouldn’t have had nearly as much impact if you were having interactions like that left and right. The interaction demands mundanity to have had any kind of impact on you.

So, to tie it back to Jarmusch, here we have Night on Earth.

It brings an almost tearjerking level of joy to finally get to write the very review you’re reading right now. Night on Earth is one of the very greatest movies I’ve ever seen. Combined with writing and performances that are near-perfect, it is one of those magical movies that makes the viewer feel anything and everything, whether it leaves the viewer with a smile, a tear in their eye, profound ideas to ponder on for a while, or in stitches out of laughter. And the most amazing thing is that it’s not even a complex film with some hyper-cerebral structure; on the contrary, it works on a charmingly simple level.

That very simplicity lies in the concept of the film itself. The title says exactly when and where the movie takes place; over the course of one evening, Night on Earth travels all around the globe, following the daily ventures of a series of cab drivers and one particular fare for their nights. First, there’s Los Angeles; a movie casting agent (Gena Rowlands) is high strung over trouble finding the perfect girl for the role. Having just landed in L.A., she lands in the cab of a tomboy (Winona Ryder) who may or may not be perfect for the role in question. Next up is New York City, where YoYo (Giancarlo Esposito) needs to get back to Brooklyn, but is ignored by every cab in the city. Then Helmut (Armin Mueller-Stahl) pulls up. He’s a clueless German immigrant who can’t even drive, and the only way YoYo is getting in that cab is if he gets to drive.

Then we travel to a whole other continent, landing in Paris. After a cabbie (Isaach De Bankole) has to abandon a couple of troublesome politicians, his following fare is a woman (Beatrice Dalle). She is blind, but she proves to have more insight and perspective than the average person. Not far off is Rome, and a priest with a heart condition (Paolo Bonacelli) finds himself in the taxi of a driver who can only be described as wild (Roberto Benigni). The driver is honored to have a priest in his cab, but can’t restrain himself and confesses all of his sins. Finally, we are in Helsinki. A group of men need a cab after a night of dejected drinking – one of them in particular just had the worst day of his life, but the cabbie (Matti Pellonpaa) delivers a sad story that reminds them that it can always be worse.

Simple premises in movies are nothing particularly new, but it’s the quality in delivery that becomes a more diverse talking point. Night on Earth uses no big techniques to make the film feel bigger than it actually is. No intercutting between cities, no grand-scale cinematography, nothing. Simply and episodic series of taxi rides, taking place exclusively in the confines of the cabs (occasionally taking a gander outside). The only other movie I can think of that delivers on this level of simplicity is My Dinner with Andre.

And Night on Earth, in spite of its limitations (if you want to call it that), delivers ten-fold, and it’s purely based on the writing and performances. Some of Jarmusch’s best writing is present here, from Beatrice Dalle’s profound take on feeling the world around her in spite of being blind, to Benigni’s perverted escapades, which results in one of the funniest monologues in movie history. Every conversation grips you, and you’re simply itching to see where the conversations go. But this writing would not be possible if it weren’t for the performances. Like I said earlier, every single performance is pitch perfect and is in exact tune with the tone of their respective episode.

Night on Earth’s pacing is a subject that doesn’t get enough credit. As interesting an idea as the film is, it would not be nearly as good if not for its sense of pacing. Jarmusch knows exactly when to talk, when to quiet down for a moment, when to take a break to admire the city outside, when to get the talk going again, and when to wrap the ride up. Not once does it become boring or grueling, never overstaying its welcome. I could almost argue that it under-stays its welcome – I would have loved to have seen maybe two or three more cities.

That last comment is not at all a criticism; just a “it would be nice if…” comment. That doesn’t matter, though, because what we got here is one of those few movies where all of the stars align and is just perfect. To this day, it is a timeless and universal masterpiece that, over anything else, goes to show that no matter how far across the world we may be, we have more in common than we may think. That’s the beauty of being an everyday human, and our next chat with a complete stranger just might prove a point.