1989 Jarmusch joint
Rating: 17/20
Plot: Japanese rockaphilic tourists, a newly-widowed woman stalked by a ghost-story-telling weirdo, and an inebriated Brit hanging with his pal and brother-in-law converge on a dilapidated hotel in Memphis, Tennessee. Elvis haunts the street. There's a gun shot, and Screamin' Jay Hawkins eats a plum.
Jarmusch is a director who understands, maybe better than any other director, that human beings are really pitiful creatures but that that is the exact quality that make us entertaining. Misery, loneliness, heartbreak, generally not what a comedic writer would focus on, but Jarmusch manages, weaving the stories of these wandering souls as they feel their way around the purgatory of Memphis. I've never been to Memphis and I definitely don't want to offend Mephisites, but I wonder if the city looks nearly as crappy as Jarmusch makes it look. In fact, his Memphis has a lot in common with the settings in his pal Aki Kaurismaki's movies. His camera moves a lot more than it normally does, following the characters through those streets, and there's also a special effect that seems incongruous. But Jarmusch's other trademarks are at play here. He toys with language barriers, tells half-completed stories, focuses on the gaps, showcases microscopic dialogue details. I love the structure of this thing, the trio of stories barely nudging up against each other with the thinnest of reference points. And the movie is very very funny, funny in that Jarmuschian way where you laugh and then wonder what the heck you're even laughing at. The aforementioned Screamin' Jay and Cinque Lee as desk clerk and bell boy respectively exchange funny banter, and Roberto Benigni's wife has a good character to work with. I also liked the Japanese couple lost in this dry and shabby Wonderland. My favorite scene might be when they visit Sun Records and stare blankly at their fast-talking tour guide while rhythmically shuffling to the right. As with all of this cat's flicks, this isn't exactly for everybody. I may have given bonus points for a cameo appearance by Tom Waits' voice and Tom Noonan (The Man with One Red Shoe and Manhunter).
"At the time of his death, if he were on Jupiter, Elvis would have weighed six hundred and forty-eight pounds."
5 comments:
Memphis has this really cool place on an island that has a very large miniature of the entire Mississippi. There are trolley cars, and of course the slightly tacky but awesome Graceland (you can go on his Elvis' plane!). You can even try to find the place James Earl Ray stood (though we all know he was a patsy... like all assassins)... I'm sorry, what were we discussing?
This was my first Jarmusch film. Some NYC DJ I listened to was so excited about this film when it came out, I need to remember who he was. I liked it it the first go round and like it even more each revisit.
Then I went to Memphis and my experience was so similar to this flick it was like preordained. We stayed at this sleezy ass motel off "Elvis Presley BLVD" and when we went in this large black woman just stared at us like we were insane.
"Do you have any vacancies?"
"Vacancies? Yeah... we got vacancies!"
It was awesome.
Then when we were at Graceland the tour guide was delivering her rapidfire intro to the huge crowd (weird to hear a southern accent spoken fast) and mid spiel she looks at me and says "sir, you have yr lens cap on" and continues without missing a beat. gold. remember lens caps?
I love Memphis, went back again, both times all my graceland pics came out ghostly. Totally blurry. There is a weird electro-magnetic field there, aka the king is alive. And the whole place is full of huge 70's cars and smells like fried chicken and bbq. Seriously.
The place sounds awesome!
Hey, Larst, I have a school story to share with you. I noticed that one of my students--real weird guy who doodles on assignments instead of doing the work--had written something in big block letters on his arm. It said "Mr. Pu...." so I asked what he'd written on his arm. I sort of flashed it and grunted, and I saw that he'd written "Mr. Puss..." Later, I followed him down the hall, got his attention, and asked, "What did you write on your arm again?" and he showed me.
"Mr. Pussy"
Real big. He'd also written it smaller on his hand. He just kind of shrugged when I asked him why he'd written "Mr. Pussy" on his hand.
Later, I was talking with another teacher about this, and he said he saw this kid coming out of the bathroom saying "Kitty kitty kitty" in a high-pitched voice repeatedly. Another kid asked this other teacher, "What's wrong with that guy?"
Mr. Pussy is obviously in league with Ass Massterson and Jupiter Hoover. They've escaped the cyber realm and entered your reality. Stay alert.
Larst, you know me...I'm always alert. Vigilant even!
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