The Limits Of Control (Jim Jarmusch)

[Alex DeLarge]

This film will test your limits of patience and many will dislike it: I don't blame you. But for some reason as the film reached it final act, elements clicked together in my head and many mundane images have stayed with me ever since. Though my wife fell asleep and hated it. Anyway, here's my review:

THE LIMITS OF CONTROL (Jim Jarmusch, 2009, USA) Death is a Lone Man whose classic visage is a Greek tragedy, chiseled from living rock, a deadly Muse whose business is not revenge…but imagination. Writer/Director Jim Jarmusch tests the formal limits of cinema whose invisible boundaries have no center or edges like a crumbling universe, relying on subjective interpretations and opposing trite exposition. Christopher Doyle’s breathtaking cinematography is a character in and of itself, a seemingly tactile element whose texture breathes life into the clay of this lucid dream. This stoic Man With No Name stalks the streets of Spain, meeting incongruous agents and holding clandestine meetings, receiving secret codes via a matchbox with the pugilistic icon of a prizefighter, and ingesting the tiny notes as if the mysterious numbers could attach to his DNA. These desperate characters are artists, bohemians, scientists, musicians, loners on the road to creativity and creation, but oppressed by sullen ideals and seduced by superficial beauty. He shows no emotion as he works, never allowing reprieve from his mysterious task even as a succubus shares his bed…but not his body or mind. Each person he meets hides behind glasses, as if these soulless mirrors deflect rather than reflect the soul. Black helicopters are the ubiquitous antagonists that sting the narrative like deadly wasps, their venomous presence evoking a nuanced dis-ease. The Loner’s strange travels eventually take him to a stronghold in the middle of the desert, where one man is a castle unto himself, surrounded by powerful men in black and under constant surveillance: a man whose self importance will lead him to the grave. We hear the punctuation of an electronic code as this weary Capitalist enters his soundproof office, and suddenly the barely glimpsed numbers on minute paper notes makes sense: each conspirator adding their own numerical sequence to Death’s final equation. The musical scales balance, a guitar string holding its eternal note. The killer finally transforms, changing from his suave suite to casual attire, like the Reaper peeling away his robes to reveal an average man, again entering the World nameless and alone. Rimbaud’s freethinking introduction mirrors Jarmusch’s cinematic mantra: No limits. No control. (B+)

[Phillip]

i'm so glad YOU reviewed this one. i'm a jarmucsh fan and have only heard one other favorable review of this film. i've been wanting to see this one, but i missed it while it was in the theaters during its short run. thanks for the words, my dear boy.

[Alex DeLarge]

Thanks bro, this has been getting panned by everyone but I really liked it. GHOST DOG is probably my favorite Jarmusch film...what's your?

[Phillip]

dead man....but ghost dog is also a top fave.

[Alex DeLarge]

I reviewed DEAD MAN a few moths ago and it's a close second. I compare GHOST DOG to Mellville's LE SAMOURAI in both style and structure.