Dead Man. (18.)
Directed by Jim Jarmusch. 1995.
Starring Johnny Depp, Gary Farmer, Lance Henrikson, Michael Wincott, Eugene Byrd and Robert Mitchum. Black and White. Released on Blu Ray and DVD by The Criterion Collection. 121 mins.
After some faltering early attempts, Jim Jarmusch really hit his stride as a filmmaker in the mid-80s with Down By Law and from there went off on one of those ferocious hot streaks a film-maker might fall into. Such streaks are incredibly rare; his would last till the end of the millennium. From Down By Law he progressed onto the magnificent Mystery Train, to the slightly hit and miss Night on Earth before this. Along with 1999's Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai, this is probably JJ at his most sublime, a man in casual mastery of his art. He's lost it a bit in this century but in the nineties, he was up there with the very best.
And now, craftily timed to cash in on the verdict of the Amber Heard trial, the Criterion Collection offer us the chance to revisit one of his and Johnny Depp’s finest films.
Dead Man is Jarmusch's take on the western, a way of addressing his love for and repulsion towards this most American of art forms. An accountant called William Blake (Depp) rides to the end of the train line in the expectation of a job. Arriving in a town called Machine, he instead finds himself on the run in the wilderness, pursued by three savage bounty hunters, (Henrikson, Wincott, Byrd) and befriended by a Native American called Nobody (Farmer.)
There's a lot going on in Dead Man, though not a lot happens. The narrative conventions of a western chase movie are introduced and then allowed to drift aimlessly in the woods while the film pursues more divergent themes such as the materialistic savagery in which the US was forged, the spiritual clash between the settlers and the culture they usurped, and a celebration of the genius of William Blake.
Dead Man is one of the best examples of Jarmusch's unique craft, which is based on simplicity and precision. Take, for example, the pre-credit sequence of Blake's train journey out west. Depp's character remains in his seat, sitting awkwardly in his tartan three-piece suit, occasionally drifting into sleep and waking to find a whole different set of passengers have replaced the previous ones, each new set looking a touch wilder and less civilized than the ones that preceded. The whole thing is achieved by a single train carriage set and a few exterior shots seen through the window but is evocative of the period and the social upheaval of the time while setting up the story and the central character. Not a lot happens, but a lot is going on.
The tone of Dead Man is bleaker and harsher than previous Jarmusch films but leavened with just enough humour and spirituality. The godforsaken town of Machine, Depp's destination, is shot like a wild west version of David Lynch’s Eraserhead, a vision of monochrome ugliness. Once Blake is forced to take flight into the woods the tone gradually becomes more dreamlike and by the end, it has achieved an almost a trance-like serenity. Over the two hours, the film has moved from cutthroat struggle to equanimity and acceptance. The precious struggle between life and death has been stripped of its urgency.
It is brutal in places. Most of the settlers are savages, personified by Henrickson's bounty hunter Cole. There is one moment in the film, an act of posthumous vandalism he commits, that is among the most shocking in cinema. (It is also probably the only reason why the film has an 18 rating.) Yet, though this is firmly in the realms of anti-western and its contemplative pace would be taken as a slur by western aficionados, there are plenty of loving little homages to western movies. Nobody’s name is a nod to spaghetti westerns and his relationship with Blake is very similar to that between Eastwood's Outlaw Josey Wales and Chief Dan George's Lone Watie. (There is also a little visual nod to the abandoned Russ Meyer Sex Pistols' film Who Killed Bambi; no idea what that is doing here but I’ll take it.)
Everybody involved seems to be performing at their peak on Dead Man. Robby Muller b'n'w cinematography perfectly conveys the subtle shifts in tone and Depp is in his pre-Pirates pomp, when he seemed to be making only great and interesting films. You forget how ridiculously pretty the young Depp was. His looks make him so much more vulnerable. (Dead Man is packed with memorable cameos: Robert Mitchum, John Hurt, Alfred Molina, Iggy Pop, Billy Bob Thornton, Gabriel Byrne and Crispin Glover.) There is also music from Neil Young. I wouldn't exactly call it a score – writers of film music would tell you how much effort is needed to time their compositions with the action on the screen and how hard they have to work to supplement the emotions on screen. In contrast Young just seems to have offered up some abrasive strums on his electric guitar, that may or may not tie up with up events on screen. It works though; another indelible element in one of Jarmusch's finest achievements.
Specs and Extras.
New 4K digital restoration, supervised and approved by director Jim Jarmusch, with 2.0 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack
Directed by Jim Jarmusch. 1995.
Starring Johnny Depp, Gary Farmer, Lance Henrikson, Michael Wincott, Eugene Byrd and Robert Mitchum. Black and White. Released on Blu Ray and DVD by The Criterion Collection. 121 mins.
After some faltering early attempts, Jim Jarmusch really hit his stride as a filmmaker in the mid-80s with Down By Law and from there went off on one of those ferocious hot streaks a film-maker might fall into. Such streaks are incredibly rare; his would last till the end of the millennium. From Down By Law he progressed onto the magnificent Mystery Train, to the slightly hit and miss Night on Earth before this. Along with 1999's Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai, this is probably JJ at his most sublime, a man in casual mastery of his art. He's lost it a bit in this century but in the nineties, he was up there with the very best.
And now, craftily timed to cash in on the verdict of the Amber Heard trial, the Criterion Collection offer us the chance to revisit one of his and Johnny Depp’s finest films.
Dead Man is Jarmusch's take on the western, a way of addressing his love for and repulsion towards this most American of art forms. An accountant called William Blake (Depp) rides to the end of the train line in the expectation of a job. Arriving in a town called Machine, he instead finds himself on the run in the wilderness, pursued by three savage bounty hunters, (Henrikson, Wincott, Byrd) and befriended by a Native American called Nobody (Farmer.)
There's a lot going on in Dead Man, though not a lot happens. The narrative conventions of a western chase movie are introduced and then allowed to drift aimlessly in the woods while the film pursues more divergent themes such as the materialistic savagery in which the US was forged, the spiritual clash between the settlers and the culture they usurped, and a celebration of the genius of William Blake.
Dead Man is one of the best examples of Jarmusch's unique craft, which is based on simplicity and precision. Take, for example, the pre-credit sequence of Blake's train journey out west. Depp's character remains in his seat, sitting awkwardly in his tartan three-piece suit, occasionally drifting into sleep and waking to find a whole different set of passengers have replaced the previous ones, each new set looking a touch wilder and less civilized than the ones that preceded. The whole thing is achieved by a single train carriage set and a few exterior shots seen through the window but is evocative of the period and the social upheaval of the time while setting up the story and the central character. Not a lot happens, but a lot is going on.
The tone of Dead Man is bleaker and harsher than previous Jarmusch films but leavened with just enough humour and spirituality. The godforsaken town of Machine, Depp's destination, is shot like a wild west version of David Lynch’s Eraserhead, a vision of monochrome ugliness. Once Blake is forced to take flight into the woods the tone gradually becomes more dreamlike and by the end, it has achieved an almost a trance-like serenity. Over the two hours, the film has moved from cutthroat struggle to equanimity and acceptance. The precious struggle between life and death has been stripped of its urgency.
It is brutal in places. Most of the settlers are savages, personified by Henrickson's bounty hunter Cole. There is one moment in the film, an act of posthumous vandalism he commits, that is among the most shocking in cinema. (It is also probably the only reason why the film has an 18 rating.) Yet, though this is firmly in the realms of anti-western and its contemplative pace would be taken as a slur by western aficionados, there are plenty of loving little homages to western movies. Nobody’s name is a nod to spaghetti westerns and his relationship with Blake is very similar to that between Eastwood's Outlaw Josey Wales and Chief Dan George's Lone Watie. (There is also a little visual nod to the abandoned Russ Meyer Sex Pistols' film Who Killed Bambi; no idea what that is doing here but I’ll take it.)
Everybody involved seems to be performing at their peak on Dead Man. Robby Muller b'n'w cinematography perfectly conveys the subtle shifts in tone and Depp is in his pre-Pirates pomp, when he seemed to be making only great and interesting films. You forget how ridiculously pretty the young Depp was. His looks make him so much more vulnerable. (Dead Man is packed with memorable cameos: Robert Mitchum, John Hurt, Alfred Molina, Iggy Pop, Billy Bob Thornton, Gabriel Byrne and Crispin Glover.) There is also music from Neil Young. I wouldn't exactly call it a score – writers of film music would tell you how much effort is needed to time their compositions with the action on the screen and how hard they have to work to supplement the emotions on screen. In contrast Young just seems to have offered up some abrasive strums on his electric guitar, that may or may not tie up with up events on screen. It works though; another indelible element in one of Jarmusch's finest achievements.
Specs and Extras.
New 4K digital restoration, supervised and approved by director Jim Jarmusch, with 2.0 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack
- New Q&A in which Jarmusch responds to questions sent in by fans
- Rarely seen footage of Neil Young composing and performing the film’s score
- New interview with actor Gary Farmer
- New readings of William Blake poems by members of the cast, including Mili Avital, Alfred Molina, and Iggy Pop
- New selected-scene audio commentary by production designer Bob Ziembicki and sound mixer Drew Kunin
- Deleted scenes
- Jarmusch’s location scouting photos
- English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing
- PLUS: Essays by film critic Amy Taubin and music journalist Ben Ratliff
- New cover by Nessim Higson
