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#366 - The Limits of Control
Jim Jarmusch, 2009
A man travels to Spain in order to carry out a mysterious mission.
Depending on your point of view, The Limits of Control is either Jim Jarmusch's purest distillation of his personal filmmaking style or it is him indulging his worst tendencies and descending into self-parody...or it could be both. You never know with a guy like him. In any case, it's yet another instance of Jarmusch bringing his directorial idiosyncrasies to a well-established genre. At first, it's not exactly clear which genre he's aiming for - I'm inclined to say "spy" due to the constant usage of code-phrases and exchanging of information as a well-dressed man travels through a foreign location. However, there is a heavy implication that the stoic protagonist (Isaach de Bankolé) is nothing more than an assassin, which is enough to remind me of Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai and I was hoping that Jarmusch wasn't about to repeat himself too much. Repetition does seem to be the key word when it comes to describing The Limits of Control. Many lines of dialogue are repeated over and over (if I had a dollar every time someone asked de Bankolé's character if he didn't speak Spanish...) and there soon emerges a pattern as he moves from contact to contact, swapping mission-relevant matchboxes and ordered two espressos each time. It gets to the point where a sort of groove is established and your appreciation of the film will depend on how much you can tolerate being stuck in said groove.
To accentuate (or at least compensate for) the extremely slow and deliberate repetition at the heart of what could generously be called the narrative, Jarmusch packs out the film with recognisable actors like John Hurt, Tilda Swinton, and Bill Murray. Other characters barely share the screen with de Bankolé for more than one scene and they mainly exchange more cryptic dialogue with him, which is lent slightly more gravitas as a result. I also credit Jarmusch with once again being able to give the film a great soundtrack, with an eclectic mix of classical, flamenco guitar, and - easily my favourite part - droning guitar music courtesy of bands like Boris and Earth. Those latter bands in particular make for the ideal backing to many lengthy scenes involving de Bankolé in transit across the picturesque Spanish landscape. It's perhaps a bit too idiosyncratic to be a genuinely entertaining film, but once you get into the right headset then it becomes a fairly fascinating experience. I don't recommend it to anyone who isn't at least considerably familiar with the works of Jarmusch or any other directors who think of slowness and inaction as a conscious filmmaking choice more so than an unintentional flaw. If that sounds like your deal, then you'll probably get something out of this.
Jim Jarmusch, 2009
A man travels to Spain in order to carry out a mysterious mission.
Depending on your point of view, The Limits of Control is either Jim Jarmusch's purest distillation of his personal filmmaking style or it is him indulging his worst tendencies and descending into self-parody...or it could be both. You never know with a guy like him. In any case, it's yet another instance of Jarmusch bringing his directorial idiosyncrasies to a well-established genre. At first, it's not exactly clear which genre he's aiming for - I'm inclined to say "spy" due to the constant usage of code-phrases and exchanging of information as a well-dressed man travels through a foreign location. However, there is a heavy implication that the stoic protagonist (Isaach de Bankolé) is nothing more than an assassin, which is enough to remind me of Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai and I was hoping that Jarmusch wasn't about to repeat himself too much. Repetition does seem to be the key word when it comes to describing The Limits of Control. Many lines of dialogue are repeated over and over (if I had a dollar every time someone asked de Bankolé's character if he didn't speak Spanish...) and there soon emerges a pattern as he moves from contact to contact, swapping mission-relevant matchboxes and ordered two espressos each time. It gets to the point where a sort of groove is established and your appreciation of the film will depend on how much you can tolerate being stuck in said groove.
To accentuate (or at least compensate for) the extremely slow and deliberate repetition at the heart of what could generously be called the narrative, Jarmusch packs out the film with recognisable actors like John Hurt, Tilda Swinton, and Bill Murray. Other characters barely share the screen with de Bankolé for more than one scene and they mainly exchange more cryptic dialogue with him, which is lent slightly more gravitas as a result. I also credit Jarmusch with once again being able to give the film a great soundtrack, with an eclectic mix of classical, flamenco guitar, and - easily my favourite part - droning guitar music courtesy of bands like Boris and Earth. Those latter bands in particular make for the ideal backing to many lengthy scenes involving de Bankolé in transit across the picturesque Spanish landscape. It's perhaps a bit too idiosyncratic to be a genuinely entertaining film, but once you get into the right headset then it becomes a fairly fascinating experience. I don't recommend it to anyone who isn't at least considerably familiar with the works of Jarmusch or any other directors who think of slowness and inaction as a conscious filmmaking choice more so than an unintentional flaw. If that sounds like your deal, then you'll probably get something out of this.