The gutteral, twangy Tom Waits soundtrack gives this film a suitably laid back theme. I loved it when it first arrived on the arthouse cinema scene for its sculpted clash of downbeat, deep south, underground culture with Benigni's probing, insistent and seemingly innocent humour. That said, it has lost some of its cinematographic appeal on transit to the small screen and my wife found it rather slow moving.
I really wanted to enjoy this having loved Jarmusch's "Mystery Train" The film starts well but goes downhill once Benigni's character enters the picture. He is just too annoyingly offbeat that the whole film is thrown off kilter. Consequently the film gets more and more tedious. After and hour I had to stop the DVD. Real life is more important!
This is the kind of film where nothing much happens and somehow that’s the entire point.
First time round this didn’t land for me at all. This time it finally clicked: the plot barely matters; it’s really just watching three men who have absolutely no business sharing a cell. Tom Waits and John Lurie do sulking as a competitive sport, two bruised egos who’d rather stew than say anything useful to each other.
Then Roberto Benigni turns up and changes the whole rhythm. He’s a lot — notebook of phrases, unstoppable enthusiasm — but he’s also the warmth the film needs, dragging two professional grumps towards something resembling friendship.
Robby Müller’s black-and-white photography makes New Orleans look damp, battered and half-mythical, while Jarmusch keeps swerving the obvious beat. He skips the jailbreak entirely because he’s much more interested in what these men say once the excitement’s over.
It’s slight, and it wanders a little once the escape kicks in, but that looseness feels more like part of the rhythm than a real flaw.
With New Orleans next on the itinerary, I’ll happily take another lap round that swamp.