CONTROL
ISSUES
by
Howard Schumann
It has been said that God is a circle whose center is
everywhere and whose perimeter is nowhere. In the beautiful and enigmatic
The Limits of Control, director Jim Jarmusch
puts it this way, “The universe has no center and no edges”
and, “everything is subjective,” or “reality is arbitrary.”
Based on a script of only twenty-five pages, The Limits of Control
is about an immaculately dressed but emotionally frozen hit man
(Isaach de Bankolé) who goes from place to place awaiting further
instructions. He has no overview of the entire game plan, but waits
for his next move whenever he meets the next contact.
The picture is
set in Madrid and Seville as well as some isolated villages in the south
of Spain. The cinematography by Christopher Doyle, most famous for his
work with Wong Kar-wai, is filled with elegantly-composed images of
dark streets, barren landscapes, city skylines, and world class paintings.
Getting his instructions at the airport before leaving for Madrid from
Creole (French actor Alex Descas), the hit man is told simply to go
to a café and look for the violin. Further instructions come
from various people he meets along the way in the form of a greeting:
“you don’t speak Spanish, right?” and the exchange
of matchboxes, one of which contains a curious code which the hit man
simply eats. De Bankolé hardly ever speaks other than to say
“yes” or “no.”
We learn little
about him other than that he prefers two cups of espresso served in
separate cups and that he practices Tai Chi. We also discover that he
likes women, because we can see that he is tempted by a naked beauty
(Paz de la Huerta) who suddenly appears in his hotel room. Although
he openly admires her backside, he tells her that he never engages in
sex while he is working (though I’ve never seen anyone who is
working do such little work). As de Bankolé goes from location
to location, each scene becomes a variation of the one that came before.
Included are some provocative sequences such as repeated visits to an
art gallery in Madrid, and a scene inside a bar in which de Bankolé
watches a rehearsal of an exquisite flamenco dance in which the singer
delivers dialogue from the first scene of the film warning us like some
spiritual guru about the limits of ego.
“Those
who think they are important,” he sings, “wind up in a cemetery
– a handful of dust.” Along the way, we are introduced to
characters played by recgnizable actors. Tilda Swinton, in a platinum
wig, white cowboy hat, and boots, talks about film noir, saying how
she admires characters that never speak. Luis Tosar talks about musical
instruments. Youki Kudoh speaks about molecular reconfiguration and
the things that are possible in science. John Hurt tells us about the
origins of the word “bohemian.” Gael Garcia Bernal talks
about how consciousness can be altered by psychoactive drugs like peyote.
Finally, Bill Murray, as an ugly American corporatist, says that our
minds have become polluted by all of the subjects that have been previously
discussed.
Supported by
a soundtrack of electronic music by the trio Boris, The Limits of
Control is a film of mystery and silence and unexpected twists;
a parable about the power of imagination and poetry to operate without
arbitrarily imposed limits. Sensing that we are in a period of change,
Jarmusch says, “I almost feel like we’re really on the cusp
of an apocalypse of thought because all of these old models that they
tell us are reality are all crumbling.” What the “apocalypse
of thought” will look like is uncertain, but the film has a hypnotic,
dreamlike quality that challenges the distinction between what is real
and what is a product of the mind. In the film’s final sequence,
de Bankolé surveys a compound guarded by masked security officers
with guns. The next minute, we see him inside the compound confronting
the object of his search. When asked how he got in, he simply replies,
“I used my imagination.” If you want to know how that occurs,
I would echo the film’s message and say – use your imagination.
That’s all there is anyway.
*
Part
con-man comedy, part action-adventure, and part serious drama, Rian
Johnson’s second feature The Brothers Bloom
does not quite come alive in any genre. The film has some recognizable
stars such as Adrien Brody, Mark Ruffalo, and Rachel Weisz, and contains
some beautiful cinematography in exotic locations, but never gels into
a cohesive, satisfying movie experience. Introducing the brothers as
children who have been rejected by thirty-eight sets of foster parents,
Johnson tells us that the older, more confident and aggressive brother
Stephen began to write stories at an early age, describing schemes for
the younger shy and passive Bloom to act out, usually involving getting
a girl.
One con (narrated
by magician Ricky Jay) involves a prank in which an entire town is duped
into dirtying their clothes after striking a deal with a dry cleaner.
Another con involves Bloom, who is eager to impress a sweet girl he
is too shy to approach, bringing the girl and all her friends to what
they think is a magic cave. Fast forward twenty five years and the adult
brothers are still up to their old tricks – with one wrinkle.
The sad and lonely Bloom (Brody) wants to stop all the cons and discover
his authentic self, but is persuaded by Stephen (Ruffalo) to do one
more trick. Tracking him down in Montenegro, Stephen explains an elaborate
scheme involving a wealthy but bored heiress that he hopes will bring
the brothers wealth and Bloom the love he needs.
With
the assistance of their silent female companion Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi),
they set out to con the hobby-addicted Penelope (Weisz). In one of the
most wildly inventive scenes of the film, a montage depicts all of the
hobbies that Penelope has collected: ping-pong, playing a variety of
musical instruments including the banjo, singing rap music, break dancing,
riding a unicycle, and juggling chainsaws. Seeking adventure, Penelope
is an easy target for the brothers’ plan, which involves stealing
a rare book, but things becomes complicated when she falls in love with
Bloom on a Mediterranean cruise.
As
twist follows twist and the action becomes convoluted, new characters
are introduced such as a Belgian named Melville (Robbie Coltrane) and
the boys’ original mentor Diamond Dog (Maximillian Schell) who
is now their nemesis. Johnson has explained that his intention with
The Brothers Bloom was to twist the genre into something unique
and fun, but somewhere along the line the fun disappears, replaced by
an awkward self-consciousness. While it is quite a challenge to attempt
to figure out what is real and what is a con, the film goes on too long
and loses its flow when it attempts to introduce serious drama into
what has essentially been a charming, screwball comedy. Although the
conclusion has some moments of genuine emotion, in a film that repeatedly
promotes the idea that life is a con, how can we be expected to care?
©2009 Howard Schumann
CineScene
