THE LIMITS OF CONTROL
REVOLVER
RELEASED 11 December 2009
The new film by Jim Jarmusch, whose previous offerings have included the Bill Murray starrer ‘Broken Flowers’ and the inner-city samurai film ‘Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai’, continues many of the themes that he’s well-known for. It’s a shame then that this film, with a host of famous cameos, is more interested in theme than any kind of plot. Jarmusch’s films have always been about a journey, from his early and critically acclaimed work in the mid-eighties (Stranger Than Paradise) to Bill Murray’s quest to find the mother of a son he never knew he had in ‘Broken Flowers’. These journeys have always forwarded the plot, showing us the steps his characters have to take. It’s not always about the conclusion, which in life can sometimes be disappointing, but rather the effort that someone will go to, and what they can learn from that. ‘Broken Flowers’ has no real conclusion, but that’s fine, as it’s all about the illuminating journey.
With ‘The Limits of Control’, Jarmusch puts so much focus on the journey, we don’t get to know the main character at all. We know neither the purpose of his journey nor what the conclusion of it means. Isaach De Bankole stars as an assassin, who at the beginning of the film is given a job from two men in an airport. The film then spends days in a Spanish city as the assassin takes steps to acheive his mark. Each of these steps includes him meeting up with one of the films cameos, from Tilda Swinton’s platinum blonde ‘movie star’(?), John Hurt’s guitarist(?), and Gael Garcia Bernal’s Mexican driver (he does drive, so no question mark on this one). Little information is given about any of these characters and none of them have names, and are neither identified on screen or in the credits (everyone in the film gets a credit via description, Swinton as ‘Blonde’, Hurt as ‘Guitar’ and Bankole as ‘Lone Man’). With little in the way of plot, character development or narrative, you have to wonder what ‘The Limits of Control’ is really about. Certainly Bankole is very good in his role here, remaining stoic at all times. He practises Tai Chi every evening in his sharp grey suit, and he sleeps above the covers in his suit, even when a female contact stays with him, who attempts to seduce him with her penchant for nudity. Does the suit have a key to the film and its title? It certainly seems to have some importance, at least it does to Jarmusch, much like the other cryptic ideas he weaves throughout the film. From notes passed via matchboxes that reveal nothing to the audience, to the repetitive questions that each contact asks of Bankole’s assassin and the way he orders two espressos at the same cafe. When the job is complete, the suit finally comes off and Bankole’s demeanour changes into something far more relaxed.
Ultimately Jarmusch’s film is a failure. There is nothing to engage an audience, not one character to care about, and the cameos take you out of the film. The direction is assured, even if we don’t really know what it is we’re watching, and the cinematography of Christopher Doyle makes the Spanish locations and architecture look magnificent. Doyle is better known for his work with Wong Kai-wai and Zhang Zimou on their stunning Chinese features ‘Hero’ and ‘2046’. Here he lets the sun drap itself over the Spanish locations.
There are many things about this film to like, but ultimately far too many failures of narrative and character. The contacts the assassin meets are played by interesting actors who bring plenty of charisma to their roles but we are given no information about them, and the only character who has any semblance of reality is Paz de la Hurta as the naked lady. She is given more screen time than any of the others and also has a slightly different encounter, breaking the rules the other contacts follow. She is shown as a vulnerable character and her fate is the only emotional beat the film has. Bill Murray’s cameo is the most comedic of them all but not intentionally so. He seems to react to the presence of the assassin like a rabbit in the headlights, with his acting stuck on ‘surprise’. His character has no emotion, but maybe that’s the point. I suspect ‘The Limits of Control’ may very well have a political subtext, but I found it hard to know what Jarmusch was saying. Perhaps that’s the point.
Visual clues, spoken clues and a suspect political meaning may lead this film to one day be dissected by film academics, but for the time-being, it’s simply a beautiful, meandering film about a journey. A journey that we know nothing about. Enjoy the Spainish scenery and architecture - just try not to fall asleep through a film that seems stuck on repeat.
TWO OUT OF FIVE
Paul Forrester