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Picture
Paterson (15.)


Directed by Jim Jarmusch.


Starring Adam Driver, Golshifteh Farahani, Chasten Harmon, William Jackson Harper and Barry Shabaka Henley. 113 mins.



Paterson is a man who drives a bus with his name on, the name of the city he lives in. Paterson (Driver) is also a poet, but you wouldn't know it: he stubbornly refuses to suffer for his art, or for anything else too much. His life is repetitive and dull, yet he seems positive and encouraging and understanding. While his girlfriend Laura (Farahani) is desperate to express her black and white artistic vision through her dreams of running a successful cup cake business or of being a country music singer, Paterson is reluctant to copy or share his work. Artistic expression is its own reward, he doesn't seek praise or acceptance or money.


The film can be seen as part of Jarmusch's ongoing project to take the drama out of drama. Increasingly he favours repetitive structures over dramatic progression. The film opens with a title card saying Monday and Paterson getting up to go to work, having breakfast and writing a few lines in his journal before taking his bus out; it then proceeds to work its way through the rest of the week. Not every day plays out exactly the same, but we get the pattern. Nothing much happens to him; occasionally things happen around him.


It seems to me that he is tackling an important, even radical, topic; the struggle to identify and accept contentment. To be happy with your lot, to be prepared to accept that your life might actually be good as it is and that there is nothing that you really need to strive for or acquire, is really quite a radical position in a culture entirely framed around making you dissatisfied and to want more. The tension in Paterson is wondering if this man really is content with his life and obscurity, with this slightly overpowering woman that he adores but isn't really a match for him, and his nightly trips to the bar to have one very quiet beer. (He really is the anti-Bukowski.)


The film is thoroughly inscrutable on that point. One time a ten-year-old girl reads him a poem she wrote, which he likes. As viewers it's impossible to tell if he really is gladdened by her talent, or if her poem has made him doubt his own abilities.


Jarmusch is one of American cinema's most skilled and effective stylists, a genuine original, whose best films resonate and satisfy in ways that seem to be beyond their modest means. That said, his 21st century films have got to be a bit of a chore. The deadpan was getting to become too restrictive and going in I had little enthusiasm for this film. The presence of Adam Driver in the title role was another drawback. I don't get the sudden and universal appeal – other than this and Star Wars, he's in the new Scorsese, the new Soderbergh and is taking over the Johnny Depp role in Gilliam's latest attempt at filming The Man Who Shot Don Quixote.


Though his Paterson is a subdued figure, he's not another of Jarmusch's totem pole leading men like Bill Murray in Broken Flowers or Isaach De Bankole in Limits Of Control. Paterson is much more lively figure but Driver playing mildly animated doesn't have the spark that Bill Murray playing a rock.


That said, the performance and the film grew on me, an initial impatience became quiet intrigue and finally affection. I think this might be his best 21st century film; for the first time since Ghost Dog, something seemed to be at stake in one of his films. It might also be his most upbeat and positive film in some time, though I could be wrong on that.



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