DEAD MAN (Jarmusch, 1995)
Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date Apr 24, 2018
Review by Christopher S. Long
I first watched “Dead Man” (1995),
Jim Jarmusch's idiosyncratic take on the Western, in a tiny theater
at the end of an alley next to my graduate film school. The second
time I watched it was... the very next day, and the third time the
day after that. Back then, paying for three movie tickets in three
days meant eating ramen noodles for the next two weeks, but I had a
good excuse. I had fallen in love.
After watching the film again on this
new Criterion Blu-ray release, I've now seen it more than thirty
times, and the blush of first love has deepened into the pleasure of
a committed, long-term relationship. I have thought often about why
the film continues to occupy my thoughts on a regular basis more than
twenty years later. For your sake, dear reader, I will limit myself
to just three reasons why I love “Dead Man” beyond all reason,
and why I believe it is one of the best films ever made.
REASON ONE: Nobody
Super-short superficial plot synopsis:
“Dead Man” relates the story of an unlikely friendship between
two genuine outsiders, Bill Blake (Johnny Depp), a hapless accountant
from Cleveland , and Nobody (Gary Farmer), a Native American loner
exiled from his own people. Blake hops a train West for a job, quickly gets
shot, and Nobody helps to treat his wounds, then to guide him through
the Western landscape (circa 1870s) to his mysterious final
destination. They shoot a bunch of people along the way.
Depp, fresh off “Benny& Joon”
and “Ed Wood,” was not yet a superstar but was riding a rocket to
Hollywood's upper echelon. He's marvelous as a clueless Easterner
desperately out of his element, but Gary Farmer absolutely steals the
show. I used to describe Nobody as my favorite supporting character
in all of cinema, but I realize now that's misleading: he's the real
protagonist.
Jarmusch risks depicting Nobody as a
“magical Indian,” whose primary function is to help the white man
learn an important lesson. But Nobody is such a rich character with a
vibrant inner life that he frequently shares. He is a man of letters,
who spends his time “wander(ing) the earth” engaged in deep
philosophical contemplation. Contrast this with the limp figure of
Blake, defined largely by his paralyzing passivity and his garish
checkered suit. Nobody has plans and ideas, while Blake doesn't have
a clue.
This explains why one of Jarmusch's
most audacious gambits works so brilliantly. When Nobody asks “What
name were you given at birth, stupid white man?”, said stupid white
man replies, “Blake. William Blake.” This sends Nobody into a
frenzy as he assumes he is in the presence of the literal
reincarnation of his literary idol, the British poet of the same
name.
It's an absurd assumption that could
leave viewers skeptical of Nobody's sanity, but consider the fact
that Nobody simply wants it to be true. Depp's Blake is a blank slate
upon which Nobody chooses to write his own story. Though he
ostensibly serves as Blake's guide through the wilderness, he's
actually realizing his own fantasy. That fantasy involves not only
hanging out with William Blake (and frequently reciting Blake's
poetry), but molding him into something new, the person Nobody wants
him to be, a killer of “stupid fucking white men.” Near the end
of the film, Nobody beams as he brags of his accomplishment in song,
“William Blake is a legend now. He's a good friend of mine!”
Farmer's performance is thoroughly
endearings as he gradually reveals Nobody's plans with quiet
confidence, and occasionally stopping to bask in the glow of his
friendship with the new, improved William Blake he's created. Farmer
is an impressive physical presence as well, and has the kind of
magnetic face directors can only dream of, a special effect in its
own right. I've loved him in every film I've seen him in, but never
more than as the unforgettable Nobody who also, by the way, has just
about the greatest origin story in the history of cinema.
REASON TWO: Robby Freaking Muller
Though it limited his potential
funding, Jarmusch insisted on shooting “Dead Man” in
black-and-white and he wisely secured the services of cinematographer
Robby Muller for the job. Jarmusch had already worked with Muller on
the gorgeous black-and-white “Down By Law” (1986), but somehow
Muller found a way to top himself with “Dead Man.”
The film's imagery ranges from the
abjectly grotesque to the sublimely beautiful. When Blake trudges
through the industrial town of Machine to report for a job he has
already lost, he sees a horse pissing in the mud-soaked street, a
prostitute giving an alley blowjob to a grimy gunman, and bleached
animal bones providing the town's only apparent decoration. Later in
the film, a thick boot will stomp on a dead marshal's skull, sending
viscous black blood spurting from every orifice. “Dead Man”
portrays an American West and a Native American people all but
destroyed by the technology and violence of European invaders, and
Muller captures the historical horror with grim efficiency.
And yet, as Nobody and Blake wend their
way steadily to the Northwest, staying just ahead of the gunmen hired
to pursue them, viewers are treated to breathtaking shots of forests
of thin white birch trees and magnificent redwoods stretching high
out of sight. In one of the film's most memorable shots, a panorama
of ocean waves seems to cover all of existence, further enhancing the
growing feeling of awe inspired by Muller's lush black-and-white
nature photography. The film's characters may not survive this
Western charnel house, but the natural world will endure and
ultimately thrive no matter how many stupid fucking white men try to
destroy it.
REASON THREE: Greatest. Soundtrack.
Ever.
The great Roger Ebert, may he rest in
power, described Neil Young's original score for “Dead Man” as
the sound “of a man repeatedly dropping his guitar.” Mr. Ebert, I
revere you, sir, but you went and lost your damn mind when you wrote
that.
Young recorded the soundtrack while
watching an early cut of the film (see Extras below), prowling around
his recording studio, reaching for various instruments for different
scenes, though none featured as prominently as his relentlessly
rumbling electric guitar. I don't know exactly to what degree Young
improvised to the footage, but the result is nothing short of
monumental.
Young's repetitive electric guitar,
often heavy on reverb, punctuates many of the open spaces in the
film, sometimes filling in a single breath, sometimes underscoring
the image – when we see train wheels churning in close-up, Young's
guitar mimics the circular motion. Other times, a wall of sound
builds to all but consume the otherwise placid image, a transcendent
effect for those who dig it, no doubt an irritation to those who just
hear a man dropping his guitar.
I am not a music critic and don't know
the language necessary to describe Young's work accurately, so I'll
settle for an anecdote. I bought the CD of this soundtrack as soon as
it was available (more ramen noodle nights for me) and it's been a
defining aesthetic element of my life ever since. I keenly remember
listening to the untitled 14-minute guitar track on the disc while
watching the sun set behind the hills at Badlands National Park. I
timed it so the final chord faded out just as the last ray of
sunlight was extinguished by the banded rock face. A part of me never
quite left that moment. I can't listen to the soundtrack while
driving, though, because I become completely lost in its tide.
I feel bad that I haven't even
mentioned the greatness of Michael Wincott's hyperactive performance
as a chatterbox assassin-for-hire or Lance Henriksen as a cannibal
with a toothache, or the glorious cameo by Robert Mitchum as a
corrupt titan of industry, or that infinitely sad and beautiful
tableau with the baby deer, or that shot of the horse on the shore
which I only just realized reminds me of a similar moment in
“Aguirre” or...
If I let myself go on about all the
reasons I love “Dead Man” (oh, man, Crispin Glover too) without
reserve, I'll never stop. And that would be a disservice to you.
Instead I think I'll just go watch “Dead Man” again. I hope
you'll be inspired to watch it, either again or for the first time,
as well.
Video:
The film is presented in its original
1.85:1 aspect ratio. This new 4K restoration supervised and approved
by Jim Jarmusch improves greatly on the mediocre home-theater
releases previously available. The black-and-white contrast is sharp
and bold throughout and the image showcases a fine grain structure.
Image detail is particularly noticeable in closeups on faces, but
also in the ways the individual trees really stand out sharply.
Overall, this 1080p transfer is a very strong one, as we would expect
from Criterion.
Audio:
The film is presented with a DTS-HD
Master Audio 2.0 surround track. The lossless audio is most important
for presenting the greatest soundtrack ever in an appropriate
fashion, but this is the first time I've listened to the film at home
and been able to pick out some of the conversation snippets that are
intended to just be barely heard at a distance.
Also, one of the distinctive features
of “Dead Man” is that Nobody and other characters speak multiple
Native American languages, including Blackfoot, Cree, and many
others, none of which are provided with subtitles. This was
intentional on Jarmusch's part, a nod of respect to Native American
viewers, and Criterion has wisely not provided subtitles here, except
to indicate specifically which language is being spoken.
English subtitles are provided to
support the English dialogue.
Extras:
The films is accompanied by a
selected-scene commentary track by production designer Bob Ziembicki
and sound mixer Drew Kunin. The commentary doesn't cover every scene,
but they do offer analysis or anecdotes for most of the film, and
it's a welcome change to get the perspective of crew members on a
commentary track instead of directors and actors.
Jarmusch continues his practice from
previous Criterion releases of conducting an audio-only Q&A
session in which he answers questions submitted by fans. This was
recorded in November 2017 and runs about 48 minutes and presents
Jarmusch with the opportunity to go off on tangents or just to speak
about some of his favorite artists or hobbies.
We also get a new interview (27 min.)
with actor Gary Farmer who shares his reminiscences about working on
the film, and argues persuasively that Nobody should have met with a
different fate than he does in the film. This is the rare actor
interview I wanted to run much longer.
In “Reading Blake” (7 min. total)
three of the supporting actors in the film read snippets of William
Blake's poetry. I mean no disrespect to Mili Avital and Alfred
Molina, who both do a great job, but you're going to leave this
feature with Iggy Pop reading William Blake as your new fetish.
Criterion includes 15 minutes of
Deleted Scenes, the same reel of deleted scenes from the old Miramax
DVD. I have always found these quite revealing, and I particularly
wish one extended death scene had been included in the final cut.
The gem of the collection is 25 minutes
of footage shot by Jim Jarmusch of Neil Young performing the film's
soundtrack. With scenes playing on monitors on stage, Young goes from
acoustic guitar to organ to electric guitar, bobbing in place as he
fully immerses himself in the moment. I find this footage every bit
as riveting as seeing Miles Davis perform the legendary score for
“Elevator to the Gallows” and it's a privilege to be a witness to
this kind of creative effort. We also get a Music Video for the film
with Young's music playing over edited scenes from the film (3 min.)
- this was also included on the old Miramax DVD. While playing this
video, you can also switch to an audio track of Johnny Depp reading
William Blake, the same passage as is included on one track of the
soundtrack CD.
The collection wraps up with a Trailer
(2 min.) and a photo gallery of about 50 stills, many of which show
color images from the set, a real treat for fans.
The slim insert booklet includes an
essay by film critic Amy Taubin and an essay about the Neil Young
soundtrack by music journalist Ben Ratliff.
Final Thoughts:
I have nothing left to say. Actually, I
have everything left to say, but I'll leave it for another time.
“Dead Man” is a masterpiece. This Criterion Blu-ray release is
the finest presentation of the movie yet available.
