A story about this — 2 years ago
I am going to admit this now — I don’t get Jim Jarmusch. I have tried. Really, I have. I sort of liked Stranger Than Paradise. Better than I liked Broken Flowers. I’m just not sure what the point was to this movie or even if there WAS a point. Critics talked about Bill Murray’s sensitive performance that was perhaps his “best ever.” I would have to modify that to his “best ever after overdosing on Quaaludes.” And maybe this was Jarmusch’s best script after overdosing on Quaaludes. Maybe the whole movie was produced on Quaaludes. It seems like somewhere between conception and wrap-up, they sort of lost the point of the whole thing. It meanders along and peters out at the end. Maybe you’re supposed to take Quaaludes to watch it. It’s not that I only like films shot according to Hollywood standards. But if a movie is going to ask 100 minutes of my time, I would like it to offer something more than some guy on a random, pointless journey. Or at least be clearly marked as experimental, mind-f*** theater.