February 1, 2014

Watching Paris, Texas again

Paris, Texas (Wim Wenders, 1984). The incredible sincerity and sweetness of Harry Dean Stanton as Travis, mute initially and unfathomable (collected by his brother, like Rain Man) until all the driving seems to slowly restore his memory of who he is (“Is four years a long time?”). Nights seen from cars, the ranter on the bridge – the cars’ windscreens and the mirror windows in the club as Travis and Jane (Nastassja Kinski) tell their stories to each other and to us, with Jane trapped in rooms that look like stage sets, or versions of the America we have just driven through. The motel rooms and diners. And the saddest guitar in the world.