Jarmusch tries to tell story, falls flat on arse

Borken Fløøvers is doing the film club rounds this week. I wish it weren't.

We watch a letter being delivered and a bunch of clouds drifting by for far longer than is necessary. This is presumably Jarmusch's idea of film art. Once the movie deigns itself to begin, we see some guy watching a movie about Don Juan growing old; this would be a subtle hint that our antihero is an aging Don Juan character if it weren't for the fact that it's then promptly mentioned three bloody times afterwards.

This attitude of treating the audience as stupid permeates the whole film; witness the demonstrative bird chatter every time Bill Murray wakes up to stuff the fact down our throat that, yes, it's morning. Witness the planes going off for no particular narrative reason other than to pad a 75-minute film to 105. See the main character have dreams that add nothing at all. See Jarmusch try for deadpan tragicomedy and landing far, far short of Kaurismäki, or even the Coen brothers.

In all, my suspicion that Jarmusch is adored primarily by film students and others who want filmmaking to look easy has only been further confirmed.