Dead
Man (1996)
This unconventional and cinematic western is shot
in black and white by writer/director Jim Jarmusch.
It is probably the most accurate portrayal of America's
west circa the 1800's that we will ever see. Jarmusch
paints a striking canvas of wide open spaces which soon
give way to either decimated Indian villages or fortresses
people by Indians; cities peopled by whores, drunks,
horses and lawless law men; campfires surrounded by
hired killers, trappers, deviants and possum skinners;
or trading posts run by missionaries.
Jarmusch begins the film by taking us back in time
via a locomotive. Our focus is mainly on Johnny Depp,
dressed in a ridiculously foppish 3-piece suit. If you
watch carefully you will notice that his travelling
companions get less and less civilized the further he
travels. Then, to set the tone for the entire film,
Jarmusch has Crispin Glover come and deliver a rambling
soliloquy to Depp before the credits roll. It's a wild
start - and it lets both Depp and the viewer realize
that we are in new undiscovered territory. We are really
going to feel out of place.
Depp arrives in a town appropriately named Machine.
He is late in getting to his job as an accountant by
quite some time and is promptly dismissed by the laughing
John Hurt and the psychotic Robert Michum. Before he
leaves town, Depp sleeps with a woman, is involved in
a shoot-out, and is accused of murder. He steals a horse
and ends up being rescued by an unusual Indian named
Nobody.
The film then becomes a sort of offbeat road picture
where Depp discovers the open landscape and it's many
pitfalls and surprises. He is pursued by hired guns
Michael Wincott and Lance Henriksen. The subplot involving
these two, and a young black boy, are quite interesting.
The film has two very odd sequences. In the first,
Depp and his Indian guide come upon a campfire populated
by Iggy Pop, Billy Bob Thorton and Jared Harris. The
three are the oddest bunch you will ever find in a western.
Wisely, Jarmusch stops this seeming homage to "Deliverance"
before it gets too out of hand.
Later, towards the end of the film, Depp goes to an
Indian village. It is an odd and almost frightening
place. Like Depp, we are unsure why he is here or what
will happen to him. He has been shot and lost a lot
of blood. Jarmusch's wonderful sets and camera-work
makes us feel as discombobulated as Depp is here. It's
eerie.
Depp is wondrous in his role. His citified accountant
turned frightened runner turned proud outlaw is mesmerizing.
He plays all of this with such remarkable subdued energy
that it simply carries the film. He is helped immensely,
of course, by his all-star cast of co-stars in minor
roles. They help us to keep the story straight and set
the tone for all that happen to Depp. But it is Gary
Farmer as Depp's Indian friend who steals the show.
He is our tourguide through this unusual landscape as
well as Depp's. He takes us on a journey full of life
and poetry. He tells us enigmatic homilies that cause
us to question all that we see and hunger to know more
than we ever can. It's a noteworthy performance.
In the end, "Dead Man" concludes on an unusual note.
The film is not content to go the route of a traditional
western. We get a different ending than we might expect.
We also get one that seems to be bereft of any real
meaning, unless one thinks deeply. Jarmusch, as is the
case with a some of his earlier films, is more interested
in the journey than the climax. The film simply flows
for two hours taking us to unusual places, showing us
a side of American history, if you will, that film has
never really shown us before. It's mystical.
The film is guided in it's streaming evolution by
a wonderful soundtrack from Neil Young. It's odd how
his distorted electric guitar riffs become the perfect
accompaniment for these cinematic visuals of nature
and the old west, the wild frontier. But Young's music
does more than just electrify the film. It makes it
flow.
Jarmusch gives us plenty to look at. His eye leads
us into a untamed past that is both haunting and beautiful,
terrifying and charged. We want to see everything. Even
in black and white, we can smell the wide open spaces
and feel the cool.
The director also uses his trademark fade to black
technique throughout the film. This time it works wonderfully
as his pictures become cinematic portraits and tableaus
of moments in time. Like the streams in the wilderness,
the film finds a course through it's treacherous plot,
twisting and turning wherever the landscape guides it.
"Dead Man" is a great film. It's the best western
to be made in 20 years. It's startling and peculiar.
Oddly, even though the film shows us almost nothing
joyous, it has the ability to make one hunger for those
wide open spaces and this savage time. When one looks
for a message one finds that Depp has travelled back
in time. From a member of the civilized gentry he returns
to the land. It's important that the town he travels
to is named Machine. Glover tells us that it is both
"the end of the line" and "hell." It is man's future.
In the end, when Depp does become a savage man of the
land (he even paints his face with blood), he must face
the fate of such a man in the machine age. That fate,
of course, is death. And like the uncivilized "wild"
frontier he comes to represent, that way of live becomes
as defunct as a dead man.
The Scene that Remains Iggy Pop in a bonnet. Johnny
Depp floating, laying in a canoe on a silver lake.
Note:
Also with Gabriel Byrne, Alfred Molina, Mili Avital
and Eugene Byrd.
D of P is Robby Muller.
For some reason, Harris' character is named Benmont
Tench, in honor of the keyboardist for Tom Petty and
the Heartbreakers.
Some scenes were shot in various National Parks in
Arizona.
(Review written in 1997)
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