Dead Man - 1995
Directed by Jim Jarmusch
Written by Jim Jarmusch
Starring Johnny Depp, Gary Farmer, Lance Henriksen
Michael Wincott & Eugene Byrd
"Every night and every morn / Some to misery are born / Every morn and every night / Some are born to sweet delight"
Dead Man draws inspiration from many sources, one of which is the poetry of William Blake, and it's this poetry that makes it's presence felt most keenly all the way through a film many critics have described as a cinematic poem in itself. To me the film represents a journey from life to death, crossing over the border between worlds - and on the way gaining a sense of perspective relative to the Industrialization of the United States and the demise of Native American culture. Done in the form of an acid western, or what could be considered an anti-western, it significantly signified a departure for Jim Jarmusch, being his first period film. I find it visually stunning, and think the film's score is groundbreakingly alive in it's sound and composition. Narratively, it tells a beautiful story with it's central two characters both witnesses and protagonists that communicate everything the filmmaker is trying to say. I've always liked Jim Jarmusch, and this is surely one of his greatest films.
The film sets off on a train, with William Blake (Johnny Depp) travelling from Cleveland to the frontier town of Machine - an industrial outpost - to accept a position as an accountant at a metalworks. Upon talking to manager John Scholfield (John Hurt) and owner John Dickinson (Robert Mitchum - in his final film role) he finds out he's far too late, after taking two months just to get there. Low on money, and with his parents having died before he set out on his journey, he meets and takes up with a flower-selling ex-prostitute Thel Russell (Mili Avital) who is visited by a former lover, Dickinson's son Charlie (Gabriel Byrne) as he lays with her in bed. He shoots her, and the bullet passes through her body into Blake. He shoots and kills Charlie in return, and makes his escape on stolen horseback - later being discovered by Native American Xebeche - "He Who Talks Loud, Saying Nothing", otherwise known as "Nobody" (Gary Farmer), who proceeds to take Blake on his dying journey - all the while being chased by three bounty hunters (played by Eugene Byrd, Michael Wincott and Lance Henriksen) who have been hired by Dickinson to avenge the death of his son.
I've never seen a western quite like
Dead Man, and it's one of the only westerns to really give itself over to a Native American perspective almost completely, except perhaps
Dances With Wolves, but in a different way. In this film the industrialization of America feels like a looming disaster, as does the pointless shooting of buffalo on the train scenes just before the credits. Blake and Nobody's journey includes the use of peyote to gain a spiritual insight into what's happening to them, and towards the end, as Blake is nearing his spiritual and dying destiny, Nobody is offered disease spreading blankets but refused most other goods at a trading post. Blake's funereal canoe, dress and the ceremonial aspects of his approaching journey take place at a Makah camp, and it's Nobody who proves to be the guiding hand for a white man who seems lost for nearly all of this film, in a landscape he's not accustomed to and at a crossroads in his life he doesn't understand. Blake's dying journey mirrors that of the Native American culture which burns beside them as they travel, and the environment blighted by the progress brought from others. The stark photography often reminds me of a stark skeletal beauty - a moonscape littered with rocks and death, but one that never looks ugly or decomposed.
This stark cinematography has been handled by Robby Müller, the free-thinking director of photography much used by Wim Wenders and Lars von Trier - capturing the vision of some of my favourite films directed by those two. In this specific case he was inspired by the still photography of Ansel Adams, three examples of which I've included below. It's wonderfully composed, and interesting to watch for the whole feature - creating a visual movie that would be creditable enough if only notable for how it was filmed. This starkness that he captures is enhanced by the crisp and clear monochrome everything is presented in - not a small decision to be made, but an easy one. When you see colour photographs, you get a sense of what had to be sacrificed to portray everything this way (a wonderful cornucopia of vivid colours ranging across the whole spectrum), but this was absolutely crucial for what the film is and what it's about. When looking at a still of Depp lay down next to a shot fawn, the lack of colour adds to that feeling of all that's living having had it's lifeforce sucked out of it, with only the physical being left behind. This is a journey of the dead.
Exciting also is the score from Neil Young, mostly coming from his guitar "Old Black" - powerful notes which loudly punctuate the atmosphere like gunshots. It will sometimes be rhythmic and tuneful, catching itself rolling along into some familiar melody from earlier, and at others marking out lone chords or notes that arise naturally from the film. Young composed and performed live while he had the film playing from all directions around him. Surrounded by the action, he'd pick up instruments and accompany what's happening based on how he felt. It matches what we see so perfectly that it's seamless, but it's also been noted by most as one of the greatest soundtracks as released on the Vapor label, and is a significant piece of work. Musical poetry, as much as
Dead Man is cinematic poetry based on William Blake's poetry. Just as the Blake in the film lets his gun speak for him, the music in the film speaks and the vision speaks. It's an incredibly well coordinated film in this way, and it's easy to tune in to any aspect of it to enjoy even more. A music video was released with the main theme playing, and Johnny Depp reading Blake's poetry in the background.
The film itself has had a history that's typical of the worst behaviour the film industry has so often been seen to display, with Harvey Weinstein having capriciously decided to try and wreck it. Jim Jarmusch's refusal to edit the film to Harvey's specifications (although Mirimax had already signed a contract with Jarmusch explicitly stating that he had full control of any final cut) is what created the problem. When he resisted an attempt from Weinstein to bully him into submission, the film was released with restricted press access and minimal promotion and publicity - an attempt to basically destroy any chance it had of success. Some critics really didn't like the film, and I think perhaps
Dead Man was far ahead of it's time and would confound some people who were looking to it as a traditional kind of western - and getting instead more of an arthouse kind of film. I'm personally on the same side as anyone who think's it's brilliant and sees it in the same light as films such as
McCabe & Mrs. Miller and other revisionist westerns which look inwards towards the soul instead of to the excitement and danger which always captures the imagination of someone imagining the wild frontier. It's a very spiritual kind of film, and speaks not only to one man's soul, but to the soul of a nation and a people.
Something else I really enjoyed about it were all the familiar faces who show up in memorable ways. Alfred Molina as the trading post clerk, who shows favour on a white outlaw but complete disrespect to a Native American. Iggy Pop, Billy Bob Thornton and Jared Harris are a big highlight as a group of eccentric trappers who Blake encounters and must kill - all of them having memorable moments. Crispin Glover is unforgettable, even though he only gets some pre-opening credits screen time. His soot-covered Train Fireman has some amusingly stupefying lines that only an actor of such reputation could deliver so enjoyably. I loved his part. Lance Henriksen's bounty hunter, Cole Wilson, isn't only a cannibal (who we get to see munch on one poor man's skeletonized arm) but is also a damaged soul that is said to have had sex with his mother
and father before killing them. Jarmusch's old west (it's set sometime in the 1870s) is one which civilization has a long way to catch up to. Robert Mitchum and John Hurt are both missed and awesome to watch in a film such as this. I absolutely loved all of their scenes.
Stretching out into the leading roles, you find that Gary Farmer has completely stolen the film from Johnny Depp. His Native American, often cursing white men (which is something the actor has said cost him a lot of future work - even if it was in the script) and having such an interesting history is a magnetic presence. His absolutely confounded confusion when meeting the namesake of his favourite English poet (he'd been transported to England as part of a circus as a boy) leads to him concluding that this is indeed the poet's reincarnation. As such, you'll hear Nobody repeat lines of William Blake poetry to Johnny Depp's character, constantly expecting the younger unrelated Blake to suddenly have some kind of comprehension and ancestral memory. These poetic lines also fit neatly into the narrative, as is so typical with all the parts this film is made of fitting so snugly together. Farmer appears to be the one actor who has been granted a very significant amount of freedom of expression, and he uses it, just as the director would have been hoping. His wisdom mixed with confusion creates a mix that's a pleasure to sit back and take in, and that makes Nobody the film's most memorable character - even if Blake is a lone face on promotional material.
Dead Man I add to
Broken Flowers,
Paterson and
The Dead Don't Die as Jarmusch films I'm particularly fond of. I have to admit that I may not have liked
Dead Man if I'd seen it in 1995, but now is around about the perfect time to have added it to the collection of this director's films I've seen. I've always held him in particularly high regard, as he so rarely ever disappoints, but I never knew how well-suited he'd be to a period piece. I thought it might have been something he stumbled with, and admit that I was very wrong about that. His wonderfully poetic screenplay is really beautiful and full of deep, soul-searching meaning. His ability to get so much out of actors he's using for just a scene or two is always something notable. Of course, he gets a great amount from everyone he works with. His quirkiness is something I particularly love, and it's not something he uses to fill his films full of whimsy and wonder like Wes Anderson, but instead as a character-building signature which makes all of his films very unique, and unlike any others you can easily think of. There's never a sense that he's overdoing anything - never overreaching and trying too hard to showcase any one aspect of his particular style.
Dead Man has been one of those films which has slowly built in stature, having to be discovered long after it's initial theatrical run, and having to be appreciated in certain circles, but not universally. It sounds and looks like an ordinary western at any one specific moment, but if you watch for any longer than that it's obviously not one. The film is it's own genre, and we have to contort to get it to fit one. When scouting for locations to film in, if Jarmusch saw something scenic and yet typical of the kind of vista captured in many of the westerns he'd seen, he'd make a point of doing a complete 180 degrees and checking out what was facing him in the other direction. He wanted a complete departure from that kind of visually splendid panorama, and instead something more in tune to this specific film. The rhythmic jangle, the dark contrasts and the spiritual journey to take place somewhere unfamiliar. As unfamiliar as it must seem to an accountant from Cleveland leaving this life in a ceremonial boat, taken as a reincarnation of a famous British poet and attended to in Native American tradition, after becoming a murderer though having no ambition of being one. Such was the strange collision of culture and industrial revolution on the old frontier, as death and rebirth entered a whole new era.