 Minimalist's Noir; For Jarmusch Fans Only |
| Review Date: November 28, 2009 |
| Reviewer: Tsuyoshi, Kyoto, Japan |
I am not a big fan of Jim Jarmusch. I really liked two of his films, though - "Night on Earth" and "Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai." The story was thin, but I really liked those fascinating characters he portrayed in them, especially Winona Ryder's taxi driver and Forest Whitaker's hitman. And the soundtrack is always unique.
In "Limits of Control" you meet "Lone Man," a mysterious unnamed man (played by Isaach De Bankolé), who is, it is suggested, about to do something criminal. The film is set in Spain and the man meets other mysterious characters, sometimes exchanges matchboxes, and continues to travel.
You may call Jarmusch's new film experimental. Or something like, "a mystery film without mystery" or perhaps a minimalist's noir. I like the idea itself. A certain film genre has a set of rules that have been repeated so long, and it is good to see those rules played out in an unexpected way, like some great European film directors such as Aki Kaurismäki.
Having said that, I must say the results of the cinematic experiments don't have to be boring. I know the film is not about story or characters, and I think I know some of the references to other films, but sorry, to me, quite honestly, "Limits of Control" was just dull. The cinematography by Christopher Doyle is certainly worth seeing, and it is good to see many familiar faces in Jim Jarmusch films (including Kudoh Yuki), but the film is strictly for avid Jim Jarmusch fans.
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Haunting neo-noir
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| Review Date: May 5, 2009 |
| Reviewer: avoraciousreader, Somewhere in the Space Time Continuum |
The Limits of Control
dir Jim Jarmusch 2009
5* Haunting neo-noir
I just saw a preview of this film last night, and ... wow. Very Jarmuschian, very Doyle'ish. Yes, legendary Wong Kar-Wai cinematographer Chris Doyle shot this, and it was an inspired fit. Visually, the film is beautiful as we tour Spain from the cities to the remote country, yet at the same time brooding and ominous.
Which was suitable, since the overall effect of this film is definitely noir. Mysterious goings on, presumably unlawful; suspenseful music; a morally ambiguous central character; the aforementioned brooding and ominous landscape; even a flamenco rehearsal reminiscent of the almost obligatory nightclub scenes in classic noir.
Structurally, the film is simple. A Lone Man (played with impeccable detachment by Isaach De Bankole') arrives in Madrid. He is contacted, given brief and cryptic instructions, and goes on to make the next contact. At each stage, he orders two espressos, "in separate cups", opens a matchbox to find a folded square of paper with a few numbers and letters on it (coordinates?), which he memorizes and destroys; he has some task such as "find the violin"; he hangs out for a while, always ordering two separate espressos, until he is contacted, given a pass phrase; has a few cryptic words and exchanges his matchbox for a new one, and sets off on the next phase. At each stage there is a small cast of sharply drawn characters, cameos really ... the flamenco performers; or a cafe waiter impatient with his habits; or the beautiful, naked, and seemingly very willing (though we're never sure just what game she's playing), young woman (Paz de la Huerta) who shows up in his hotel room. Few, if any, characters other than the Lone Man are here for more than a few minutes.
This structure seems like it should quickly get tedious, but instead the tension builds palpably. What, we wonder, is really going on, even as we are presented with a few clues. Why all the complex charades? Is this criminal, political, or...? Fortunately, we eventually do get to resolution of sorts, although a suitably ambiguous and head scratching one. I know I'm definitely looking forward to a chance to view this one again. |
The limits of narrative - Jarmusch at his most opaque and fascinating
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| Review Date: December 30, 2009 |
| Reviewer: Muzzlehatch, the walls of Gormenghast |
The Lone Man (Isaach de Bankolé, hard and cool and tough without ever doing much of anything) sits across from Creole and French. Creole speaks Spanish; he doesn't understand and French translates. He's to go to Madrid. They give him a book of matches. He goes to Madrid by airplane. There he meets several people and exchanges boxes of matches with them; he sits at an outdoor café and always order 2 espressos. When he meets Nude (Paz de la Huerta) she tries to seduce him, but she fails. Not while on the job. He wears a metallic blue suit and looks awesome; eventually he wears a metallic rust-brown suit and still looks awesome. Then he goes back to the blue. He is always queried: "You don't speak Spanish, do you?" He always replies "No" in English; his speech is accented, but where he's from, where anyone is from....no clues.
In each book of matches is a tiny piece of paper with cryptic symbols; the Lone Man reads it quickly and then eats it. He moves on, from person to person, sometimes given instructions verbally, sometimes not. He travels by train to Seville, there to pick up a guitar and give it to someone else; at one point, his box of matches is filled with diamonds. He is an agent - or a courier transporting stolen goods - a mafioso - we don't know. Eventually he moves out into an arid, scrubby, rural area. There is a big house, almost a fortress, that seems connected to the helicopters we see occasionally throughout the film. He meets someone to whom he does not deliver matches, and something else happens...
Jim Jarmusch continues in the parody or deconstruction of various action/macho genres that he started with in DEAD MAN (western) and continued with GHOST DOG (samurai & gangster film). This time, he's riffing on the cools 60s thrillers like John Boorman's POINT BLANK and some of Jean-Pierre Melville's films, as well as perhaps James Bond and the whole cold war spy thriller genre as popularized by John Le Carré. His style though seems more French New Wave than anything else - Jacques Rivette's sense of duration and often-imagined conspiracies along with the very light, playful dialogues punctuated by long silences; Chantal Akerman's something-about-nothing, drama built from absolutely nothing happening; Alain Resnais' precise visual textures. It's probably his least-funny film up to this point, his most ambiguous and challenging, the farthest he's gone from hitting any tones that would resonate with a conventional audience. No wonder it failed to get much of a release.
But for me, it's easily his best film since DEAD MAN. The growing disquiet and sense of something wrong - not with The Lone Man in particular, or anyone else in fact until the last person he encounters, in that fortress-bunker-mansion in the wilds - but a disquiet at the sense of aimlessness and purposelessness both of this character and of much of modern existence. Time spent in airports, on buses, in cars, walking here and there - but little time spent actually doing anything. The Lone Man remains always a cypher: he seems not to sleep, we see him in bed, always with his eyes open; he stays in expensive hotels, given the keys by various people on his journeys - how does he pay? where does he live?; he goes to museums and stares at Spanish Cubist paintings.
This is minimalist filmmaking, all right, a film that is full of gorgeous surfaces (courtesy of DP Christopher Doyle), sounds (Boris and others) and allusions to much of Jarmusch's earlier work, in particular DEAD MAN. The regular, rhyming repetition of the question about Spanish echoes the joke about tobacco, and indeed the use of match boxes provides another point of similarity. Like William Blake in the earlier film, The Lone Man does not seem to be part of this world, though unlike Blake he's aware of it and is traversing it for his own obscure reasons. And as that film is full of poetic allusions, THE LIMITS OF CONTROL features regular movie allusions, sometimes coming more or less out of nowhere - this in itself alluding in a way to the New Wave, Jean-Luc Godard in particular; as in the earlier film, the lead character seems completely ignorant of what everyone else is trying to tell him with these references. The whole film is a journey, but though we do end up with a climax of sorts it is deliberately, completely hollow, and we are left with more questions than we started with. The surfaces may be mirrors, or opacities from which very little can be pried without intense effort. Maybe there's nothing there, and maybe you'll think this is just a big pretentious, hipster Jim Jarmusch joke on you. Could be. But if you respond to it, you will enjoy wondering about that, being maddened by it.
An impossible, unfathomable, beautiful and endless film; among the 2 or 3 best new films I've seen in 2009, and easily something that I expect to improve and grow on me further with subsequent viewings.
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A Metaphor Film
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| Review Date: December 20, 2009 |
| Reviewer: Sharon L. Debruler, South Carolina |
This film is not for those who expect the director to do all the thinking for them. In fact, this is the kind of film where the audience must assume every single aspect of the story, the characters backgrounds, and meaning of the film. Nothing is explained. We don't know who the Lone Man is or where he comes from. We don't know who the people are who continue to give him his instructions in French match boxes. We're not even sure that Lone Man isn't able to speak Spanish. We don't know who the Lone Man is working for or why he must find Bill Murray's character. Nothing is disclosed.
As for the films meaning. It is my opinion that the entire film is a metaphor for the amount of control human beings have on their environment and lives. The Lone Man passes his time throughout the majority of the film visiting art museums. The mysterious characters who pass instructions onto him are always blabbering about movies, linguistics, and scientific theory. They represent the directors belief in intellectual thought and its importance in the human condition. Bill Murry's character is a white collar business man who heads a criminal enterprise. He exclaims in the final scene that such ideas have poisened humanity's true understanding of life: which is in his opinion, a darwin-like fight to the finish. But the Lone Man responds, "Reality is arbitrary".
Jim Jarmusch is trying to show us that artistic culture, or at least free-thinking culture, has the ability to make the world a better place. It is not just for those searching to transcend life, but it gives us the tools to approach it. The Lone Man sneeks past dozens of armed guards in a fortess in the Spanish countryside. Murray asks him how he was able to do it. The Lone Man responds, "I used my imagination." --Connor de Bruler |
The intervals between events, the thriller minus the thrills - visually stunning, minimalist take on the existential hit man
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| Review Date: December 10, 2009 |
| Reviewer: Nathan Andersen, Florida |
Limits of control is fascinating to watch. A delightful merging of the elliptical minimalism of Jim Jarmusch and the dreamlike fascination of Chris Doyle's camera. Both mundane and surreal. Restrained and frenetic.
The lone man gets a message. He follows up and waits. He gets another message. Same thing twice, and then again; repetition with variation.
Some messengers ruminate on art and life and meaning. Another strips bare. The lone man says nothing, or not much, and does everything always the same way. He wears monochrome suits. Tai chi, every morning. Sits in an outdoor cafe. Two espressos, separate cups. He visits a museum, and contemplates a single painting. The art of waiting.
We know nothing. There may be nothing to know.
Not for everyone. Elliptical and elusive. Still, beautiful strange. I liked, a lot.
Note: there are a few intriguing extras on the dvd, but the little documentary following Jim Jarmusch around as he makes the film was a bit of a disappointment. He's a brilliant filmmaker, who says a lot by saying very little. When he is pressed to speak, however, for the purposes of the short documentary, he ends up saying nothing very interesting. If he could say it, I guess, he wouldn't need to make a film of it - but, more likely, you can't expect much of anyone on the spot when you shove a camera in their face, and he doesn't seem the type to like sounding profound. The documentary is more interesting when instead of asking Jarmusch or Chris Doyle to speak, it shows them in action, doing their thing. It did, also, convey the satisfying impression that the "waiting around, not doing much, only occasionally acting, or being struck by an idea" that characterizes most of what Jarmusch tries to depict in his films is in fact what mostly happen on his sets. |
Part Melville Le Samourai, Part Antonioni Passenger, Part Frears Hit
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| Review Date: November 19, 2009 |
| Reviewer: Doug Anderson, Miami Beach, Florida United States |
"Everything is subjective"--is a line repeated throughout this very subjective film and each time it is repeated it resonates in new ways. By the end of the film it would seem that the unnamed "lone man" has accomplished his unnamed mission and one suspects that the mission means whatever the lone viewer wishes it to mean.
The lone man (virtually a mute part) travels around Spain by train and spends his time in hotel rooms and cafes while he waits for his contacts to appear so that he can proceed with the next stage of his unidentified mission. This is a man who is completely dedicated to his work to such an extent that he has no identity beyond three simple extravagances: he does Tai chi every morning, he always orders two espressos in separate cups while at cafes, and he loves paintings (perhaps because they too are silent). Virtually the entire film is spent following the lone man through his routines. This is filmmaking and existence broken down to its bare essentials: man, setting, singleminded objective. He keeps the same stony face through scene after scene. Late in the film he briefly smiles while watching a dancer rehearsing the same sequence over and over again and one imagines it is a smile of recognition.
If forced to label this film I would call it Zen Noir.
If you liked Melville's Le Samourai, Antonoini's Passenger, and Frears' The Hit this is your kind of filmmaking: every frame is a concentrated composition that commands your complete attention even though it is never clear exactly what you are being asked to concentrate on or why--for some the enigmatic nature of this character and film is annoying, for others the enigma is the thrill. Small clues (like the fact that this peaceful assassin uses a guitar string to do his handy work) might suggest that the assassin is on the side of the free-spirited artist bohemians of the world, but other clues (like the fact that he allies himself with no one)indicate that his objective is strictly personal. This is filmmaking that is as uncompromisingly dedicated to its singleminded objective as its lead character is to his nameless mission.
And a perfect ending. |
Unsatisfying, Yet Very Poetic Film
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| Review Date: November 18, 2009 |
| Reviewer: Joshua Miller, Coeur d'Alene,ID |
I'm not very familiar with the films of Jim Jarmusch, having seen only two of his films previously. While my readings have showed me that some of his films have brought him critical indifference, his latest film The Limits of Control brought him critical scorn with Roger Ebert awarding the film half of one-star. It's obvious that this film was not intended for a wide audience, but Jarmusch has fashioned a film here that even his devoted, art-house fans will shy away from. It's a 2-hour film that strips away all storytelling conventions to make a movie with no coherent, linear plot and absolutely no character development. Despite these shortcomings, something about The Limits of Control remains fascinating and that's why I don't consider this film a complete failure.
Isaach De Bankolé plays a character credited only as Lone Man. His first appearance in the film involves him meeting two men, one who speaks Spanish while the other translates. He's given instructions, but they're too vague for us to make sense of and the two men depart after handing him a matchbox. Inside the matchbox is a piece of paper with some numbers on it, which the Lone Man quickly reads and then eats. The Lone Man travels to Spain, where he'll stop somewhere and order "two espressos in separate cups," before being approached by a stranger who will ask him (in Spanish) if he speaks Spanish. The stranger and the Lone Man will exchange matchboxes and the same thing I've described all happens again. Of course, Jarmusch will throw in intriguing plot details that go nowhere as well. The Lone Man discovers a nude woman (Paz de la Huerta) in his hotel wielding his gun...They don't have sex.
The various strangers in the film are played by Tilda Swinton (almost unrecognizable as a blonde film enthusiast), John Hurt, and Gael Garcia Bernal (a very talented young actor who, like Swinton, isn't instantly recognizable). Bill Murray also makes a brief appearance in the film, but it's one of the highlights of the film.
The acting in this film is good, even though all that's required of the actor's is that they walk onscreen and say a few lines with the exception of Bankolé who has little dialogue in the film and gives a good majority of his performance with his eyes. Jarmusch made a very intelligent decision casting Bankolé whose quiet intensity and subtle indifference made this film much easier to tolerate.
I've read reviews that referred to this film as a "crime thriller" and I can assure you it's most definitely not a crime thriller. There is nothing "thrilling" about this film; it's a slow-moving, methodical cinematic poem. Jarmusch gives his film a surreal quality by utilizing the talents of cinematographer Christopher Doyle who takes an uninteresting story and pulls beautiful images from it. Doyle is a true photographer and he makes his cinematography the film's greatest achievement.
Speaking as someone who has not seen many Jarmusch films, it's clear he's a talented director. He knows how to juxtapose music with a scene for maximum effect, which was evidenced many times throughout this movie. His style (in this film) of pointing the camera at something he wants us to look at, without explaining it and simply allowing us to choose whether or not to look at it is inspired, while not always very interesting. Jarmusch's style, particularly with this film, evoked the films of Michelangelo Antonioni for me. Both filmmakers have made films that disregard plot in favor of capturing a sort of visual poetry, as well as creating characters with emotional resonance despite little character depth. Furthermore, both directors' have made films that are intentionally inaccessible to a wide audience and can be defined only as "art-films."
While passages are visually arresting, it was the good attributes of the movie that made me wonder how great this film could've been with a lively, character-driven script. I think even the biggest detractors of this film would admit that Jarmusch has all the ingredients of a great film here with the exception of a great script. His film will leave many viewers angry and scratching their heads, trying to make sense of what they just watched and why they actually watched the entire thing. It's a film that presents us with many mysteries, but makes no attempt to solve them or even explain what the mysteries are in the first place. The film doesn't lack in style, but any substance it may have is certainly not on the surface and those looking for it will need repeat viewings to absorb it. It has made me want to see more of Jim Jarmusch's films, but the film itself left me cold. I can't deny its admirable qualities and artistic merit, but it is an unsatisfying film though not as bad as the critics would have you believe.
GRADE: C+ |
The Limits of (your) Patience and Perseverance
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| Review Date: December 27, 2009 |
| Reviewer: Robert B, toronto |
Well. An important hint is given in the supplementary feature by director Jim Jarmusch. When asked about the movie, he explains it in terms of everything it's not (except the naked babe): action, explosions, chases, naked babe etc...in reality, the movie could be described as the anti-action-mystery-movie. I would have to conclude that it is intended as a parody of the type of movie he describes, or possibly as the inverse of such a movie. A stone-faced, mostly silent mystery man wends his way through Spain, exchanges mysterious matchboxes with various characters who spout banal juvenile philosophical observations approximately equivalent in depth to, for example, 'How long is a short string?' or 'How many bubbles in a bar of soap?', even though these specific examples are not used. (Jarmusch is free to use them if making a remake - I do not claim copyright). The Silent Traveler receives cryptic notes in each matchbox he receives; he glances at these notes and then eats them. I presume they give instructions to reach his next meeting - and he must be a really quick read, because I would find them very difficult to remember - where he will exchange matchboxes again, etc etc. At each of these many meetings, he is asked (in Spanish) if he speaks Spanish. Between such meetings, big black helicopters occasionally pass over or hover nearby. And yes, there are Corporate bad guys. Now what all this means, other than being an anti-movie I will not speculate, other than to make the observation that it is paralyzingly boring, rather like the Warhol movie entitled, I think, Sleep, whereupon a man is photographed sleeping for 8 hours, or 24 hours, or whatever.
I bought this movie because of some terrible opinions I heard about it (I'm like that), or maybe just because of the naked lady, and I must say I can't say I was misled.
The single star granted is for the cinematography (Christopher Doyle - he never disappoints), which is excellent and would have been worth more stars in itself but for the fact that the 'story' negated any extra stars due for the camera work.
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Maladies of Spain
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| Review Date: November 17, 2009 |
| Reviewer: D. Hartley, Seattle, WA USA |
Any devotee of director Jim Jarmusch will tell you that when you watch one of his films, there are certain things you can expect. Or maybe it's more about the things that you don't expect. Like car chases. Special effects. Flash-cut editing. Snappy dialog. A pulse-pounding music soundtrack. Narrative structure. Pacing. Not that there is anything wrong with utilizing any or all of the above in order to entertain an audience, but if those are the kinds of things you primarily look for when you go to the movies, it would behoove you to steer clear of anything on the marquee labeled "A film by Jim Jarmusch". And you will find none of the above and even less in his latest offering, "The Limits of Control".
Jarmusch has decided to take another stab at the "existential hit man" genre (which he first explored in "Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai"); and here he has concocted something best described as "The Day of the Jackal" meets "Black Orpheus". Isaach De Bankole is a killer-for-hire (referred to in the credits simply as Lone Man), who at first glance appears to mostly kill time. After receiving his cryptic assignment at an airport, he sets off via train, plane and automobile through the Spanish countryside, with a stop in Madrid (reinforcing my hunch that the film is, among other things, homage to "Mr. Arkadin"). Along the way, the taciturn Lone Man meets up in appointed locations with an assortment of oddballs, with whom he trades matchboxes (don't ask). Each of these exchanges is really a setup for a cameo-length monologue about Art, Love, Life, the Universe and Everything by guest stars like John Hurt, Tilda Swinton and Gael Garcia Bernal (whose characters sport archetypal names like Guitar, Blonde and, um, Mexican). As each contact pontificates on a pet topic, De Bankole sits impassively, sipping a double espresso, which he always demands to be served in two cups (the film's running joke).
In Jarmusch's universe, the story doesn't happen to the people, the people happen upon the story; and depending on how receptive you are to that concept on that particular day, you're either going to hail it as a work of genius or dismiss it as an interminable, pointless snooze fest. As it so happened, I was in a pretty receptive mood that day, and I found a lot of things to like about The Limits of Control. In purely cinematic terms, I think it's one of his best films to date. Cinematographer Christopher Doyle makes the most out of the inherently photogenic Spanish locales and deftly instills highly atmospheric flourishes throughout, giving the film an "acid noir" feel, complemented by an outstanding, eclectic soundtrack. Paz de la Huerta (woof!) and Bill Murray round off an interesting (to say the least) cast. This would make a perfect double bill with Stephen Frears' 1984 film, "The Hit", another existential hit man thriller set in Spain (AND featuring John Hurt, as well). |
Jarmusch's most polarising film, also his most minimalist...a very good film....
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| Review Date: January 27, 2010 |
| Reviewer: Grigory's Girl, NYC |
This film is Jarmusch's most polarising film, one that even many of his fans have hated and loathed. Being a massive Jarmusch fan, I had to see for myself, and I really liked this film.
The visual sense of Jarmusch is always brilliant, but here it's different, yet familiar. Many of the shots remind me of Antonioni's greatest films (particularly La Notte). Jarmusch's typically long tracking shots have been abandonded for more static, yet still excellent compositions. There is hardly any dialogue in the film, and the little there is isn't very realistic, in fact, it's almost poetic. While there is the typical Jarmusch deadpan humour (mostly in the beginning of the film), it pretty much vanishes as the film progresses, and the film becomes stranger, more intriguing, and surreal. In many ways, this film resembles Jarmusch's Dead Man (his greatest work and one of the most unfairly maligned films in the 90's). That film started out with deadpan humour but became much deeper and mystical as it progressed, and this film has the same vibe. The music in that film (and in this one) also contributed heavily to the brilliant mood of each film.
What is the film about? It's a hit man's odyssey, and that's really all I can tell you.
I've seen all of Jarmusch's work, and have never been disappointed. There have been films I've liked more than others, but Jim is always challenging. While The Limits of Control is Jarmusch's most minimalist and polarising film, it's still excellent. The DVD has an excellent behind the scenes documentary called Behind Jim Jarmusch. Jarmusch is engaging in his own deadpan style, and the documentary is done in a Jarmusch style, making it as fascinating as its subject. Jarmusch's fans will like this more than non-fans, but I recommend it highly. |
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