Plot: Sissy Cleveland boy goes out west, gets dealt a little bad luck, starts shooting people, is befriended by a well-read, overweight Native American named Nobody, gets himself shot and is sent sailing into the spirit world.
Commentary: I was about to pull a “Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon” on this film and yank it after sitting through 20 minutes of some pretty dreadful stuff, but thought to stick it out so that I could give this film a fair review. I’m sorry that I did. I’m really hard pressed to find any level at which this film succeeded, other than making me never want to see it again. It seems to me that Jarmusch went to great lengths to make this as bizarre a film as he possibly could. But why? I realize the film was deliberately paced to be slow as molasses, but with a less than interesting plot, this made for some pretty harsh viewing. The blackouts between scenes made me think this little stinker would have been better suited as a graphic novel. The whole William Blake thing was a big stretch as well. A scholarly Native American who could quote Blake? Give me a fucking break. I guess it’s pretty safe for me to say I’m not a big fan of the directorship of Jim Jarmusch. I felt “Ghost Dog” was a piece of shit as well.
More appropriate title: Eraserhead Goes West
Cringe-o-meter: (7 out of 10) Due to the lifeless sound track by, yours truly, Neil Young. 10 minutes into the film I was gritting my teeth at its repetitiveness. I think there were a total of 4 chords played throughout the film. We also get to see the hairless ass and brief glimpses of the Native American’s package which certainly helped knock the rating up a notch or two.
Recommended for: Armchair film experts who enjoy talking all day long about the artistic merits of film, sighting film technique, symbolism, foreshadowing and other tripe that doesn’t help rescue these piece of shit films. Jim Jarmusch fans (if there happen to be any) would probably get off on this odd film as well.
This coming from the guy that gets a woody from John Bellairs??? Talk about armchair film experts, Mr. Armchair Book Expert, your devotion to that sad author ranks about as high as our devotion to Mr. Jarmusch. (Not to mention that Brad Strickland guy looks like a GAY Robert Jordan, and we all know that Jordan already looks like a big fag.) 'Nuff said.
SCORE: 1 Beers
My name is, "He who speaks loud, says nothing." Much like Dr. Carter's review. "Have you read my poetry," with the intensity of the beginning sequence we begin a tale of woe, of one man whose life degrades slowly into madness. If I lost both my parents, my fiancée left me and all I had left in the world was a checkered suit, I too would sojourn to the town of Machine. To start anew, to start unknown, get away from the big city living of Kansas City. However with the incredibly awesome cameo of Crispin Glover, we see the beginning of a truly awesome western, as William Blake returns to the land from which he came. The characters he encounters can only be described as "Individuals", because each of them is scripted Guinness. May the director continue to rock on.