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Jim
Jarmusch’s rhythms in Only Lovers Left
Alive feel at once more and less conventional than usual. In a sense, there’s
something much easier to grab onto here – bored vampires rekindling a bohemian
romance – and the dynamics presented are more familiar. Throughout Jarmusch’s
breezy and loose new film, there are elements of familial comedy, existential
crises and, dare I read too much into it, social commentary. It’s an unexpected
combination that’s smarter and richer than his previous feature Broken Flowers, but it remains less
potent than his best work.
Jarmusch,
rock-and-roll lens in-tact, is gently amused by his two subjects. Adam (Tom
Hiddleston) and Eve (Tilda Swinton) are centuries-old vampires that remain, as
Jarmusch characters tend to, typically mellow and ethereal. They’re married,
but Eve lives in Tangier, Morocco, and Adam in Detroit – I’d imagine centuries
of marriage warrant these kinds of breaks every so often. Jarmusch opens
paralleling their experiences, fusing guitar instrumentals with a swirling
camera. We observe each, steeped in their ways, each trying to get a blood-high
from their respective sources (Jeffrey Wright’s blood bank employee for Adam; John
Hurt’s older and wiser friend for Eve). It’s an elongated sequence, with
Jarmusch not really expecting much of you but to lounge, take in the music and
find the characters’ internal life. Jarmusch is operating very mildly here in the early-going – he indicates that his intrigue in the very idea of living through centuries suffices.
By the time the two finally reconnect in Detroit, the whole affair is a tad muted –
I’m not sure if I can call that a criticism, since Jarmusch’s response to that
claim would be an affirming nod – and uninvolving. The director is projecting a
weariness, with Adam ready to finally call it quits and Eve’s comfort with
her books, friends and adventurous new setting thus quelled by her marital
responsibilities. Things are changing – Adam doesn’t care to even go out anymore as his city fades, new music fails to move him, degrading environmental quality forces him to test any acquired blood for
contaminant. The great, steadfast quality of Only Lovers Left Alive is its lived-in suggestion; as with Jarmusch's best, this is a hangout movie in the best way. But his work in sustaining a mood is
less comprehensive than what’s expected of him. At times, his work treads
episodic territory, hitting beats flatly as he transitions from one
scene to the next.
Seeing
as this is not Jarmusch’s most erudite or immersive work, its reserved
stylings can project needless, quiet monotony. But the film takes a sharp turn
rightward as Adam and Eve reunite. They get high. They listen to music. They
recall the past, romantically and intimately. Swinton and Hiddleston play cool
and matured with naturalism and understated chemistry, and manage to illuminate
Jarmusch’s shadowy vision. Jarmusch surveys the two as they drive around
Detroit, the boarded-up houses and empty streets within it. “Everyone left,”
Adam faintly acknowledges. He talks of the falling industry, the building crime
– he witnessed the city’s fall. Hiddleston handles the lamentations delicately,
and Swinton’s optimism perfectly matches them: “It’ll come back … this city’s
got water, and when the South is burning up, it’ll come back.” Jarmusch’s wise,
suggestive historical commentary, filtered through his “Adam and Eve,” strikes
with great, lasting impact. It’s the vampire story no one wanted to tell: people
that have lived and lived, through monarchies and epidemics and innovations, interpreting
and contending with the mundaneness of the present. Of course, as seen through
an artist like Jarmusch, such people find solace and continuity in the sound of
the guitar, the words of a great writer – as indicated by the title, soulful
expressions live on.
The
movie is enjoyable and thoughtful as Adam and Eve share time together, but, as
if Jarmusch was anticipating the “high” beginning to fade, in comes Mia
Wasikowska to really burst the thing wide open. As Eve’s sister Ava, the Tracks star exudes an irrepressible
childishness with startling wit and humor, with Jarmusch’s even-keeled comedic
approach necessarily delving into thicker territory. Ava is a troublemaker, a
centuries-old child, with Adam playing unamused father and Eve peacemaking
mother. Only Lovers Left Alive is
suddenly mining familial comedy as if it were the film’s principal genre – the
three eventually go to a music club, to Adam’s chagrin, as Ava aggressively
flirts with an acquaintance of his (played by Anton Yelchin). Her destructive
imposition gives the film the jolt of energy it desperately needed – Wasikowska’s
reading of a line as simple as “I’m thirsty” is milked for as big a laugh as
possible – and also allows the film to wander into more stimulating terrain. Ava
is playing the “little sister” role – but she’s hardly young. She’s hundreds of
years old. Jarmusch’s exploration of cyclicality begins to pay off here, from
the talk of the American city morphing to the visual demonstration of eternal familial
identity.
Wasikowska
enters and exits relatively quickly – her arc ends with a hilarious “What did
you do now?” as only a Jarmusch movie about levelheaded vampires could
imagine – and subsequently, Jarmusch slowly guides Adam and Eve to a stopping point. The film’s
initial feel creeps back in, and again, it’s a mix of easy enjoyment, mild
provocation and inescapable airlessness. But the purpose feels stronger. Again,
in exploring identity assumption, Jarmusch isolates the moment in which Eve watches
her father-figure (Hurt) finally pass on – she’s losing a loved one, a mentor,
a family member. He holds on this image. The ghostly mood isn’t sustained quite all the way through, but he captures these exotically
spooky visuals, and in the process superbly contrasts the timeless with the
timely, the momentous with the out-of-place.
The
vision in Only Lovers Left Alive is, at times, marred by its creator – but simultaneously, its effectiveness is
rooted in his alternatively musical, atypically humanist sensibilities. His
characters speak with striking familiarity, and are leveled, collected and
down-to-earth exactly as centuries-long residents of the planet would be. There’s
a great attention to detail – Eve bringing Infinite
Jest along on her trip to Detroit being a prime example of subtle character
texturing – and a fleshed-out worldview. The movie is relatively thin, aside
from isolated moments of engaging familial communications; it works best as an
ode to what lasts through time and through change, namely music and words, spouses
and siblings.
Adam’s
been there before – this isn’t the first time he’s considered “ending it.” That’s
a key detail, because Jarmusch works best when observing humanity’s circularity.
Cities rise and fall. Loved ones drift apart and come back together. Grating
family members stick around, no matter how many times you kick them out. And
music lives. The written word lives. Only
Lovers Left Alive comes off like a rough cut, too undisciplined and
indulgent to fully work and resonate. But this is distinctive cinema with fresh
ideas, and stands out in a crowded year as a result.
Grade: B+