User reviews

Odd and inspiring. This film rings true with rich detail in its depictions of utter loneliness. Smoking many Chesterfields, watching television, playing solitaire, visiting Aunt Lottie, sightseeing at Lake Erie (for God's sake). It alters from tragic to comic from almost moment to moment, and often has a foot in both pools.

Jarmusch is minimalist to the core with this one, and yet manages to pull off a solid story. A small black and white gem that deserves a larger audience.

Life is strikingly uneventful for Willie, played by renaissance man John Lurie, who refers to himself as a hipster and lives in New York City, and his interactions with his Hungarian cousin Eva, played by avant-garde actress-musician Eszter Balint, and his best friend Eddie, played by yet another actor-musician Richard Edson, who dresses exactly like Willie. Indeed, both males are swarthy with hook noses and fedoras. They have such little interest in or knowledge of anything that their eventual vacation is no different from home.

The quirky way to three-act story format is a succession of single-shot scenes punctuated by black leader, and the clear-cut partition of the story into three straightforward, facetiously named episodes. Yet there are other ceremonial characteristics of substance: Tom DiCillo's black-and-white camera work, which provides Jarmusch's acute impression for the American panorama; and the arresting appliance of music, which favorably apposes Screamin' Jay Hawkins's I Put a Spell on You with the folksy tinges of John Lurie's score for string quartet. This is definitely a road movie, but one with a distinction: Different from most instances of the then still immensely fashionable genre, Stranger Than Paradise appeared simultaneously comprehensively American and strangely European.

The oddly enlightening aggregate of involvement and reserve may be found in the film's lovingly absurd view of Willie's chic affectations, its quaint posture toward some of the inanities of American culture and in the way it harmonizes a decidedly American genre and decidedly American plot---if a narrative as gravely sparse and as concentrated on dead moments may be dubbed a plot---with all form of un-Hollywood expression. The look, rhythm, cast and mainly dismal feel bring to mind not The Blues Brothers, or even the rather subdued Last Detail, but the beginnings of the degree of minimalism to which Jarmusch would take his later work.

However he also loves various attributes of popular culture. See how Willie and Eva watch Forbidden Planet on TV or go with Eddie and Eva's discouraged fancier to see a bone-crunching Hong Kong martial-arts flick at a Cleveland grindhouse, and lets them neighbor more virtuous aspects of his films, in such a way that there is no discrepancy between high and low. And it's for that scarce but wholly judicious mindset that Jarmusch is to be particularly noted. It's doable to distinguish his connection with a gamut of later American indie directors, specifically in his desert drollery, his passionately entertained captivation with slackers of sundry kinds, his concern with sequential framework, his affinity for severely subdued stories, and his clever, antiquated references to popular culture. All these, at a time scarce in American cinema, are now pretty ubiquitous. But the rhyme, the unabashed regard for cinema as a quality, production, expression, a realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance, even the mundanities of life and the most everyday scenery possible, that can confront crucial, important matters is far more difficult to come across.

Considering, in the end, no matter how amusing, stylized, minute or insignificant his films may strike one at first, they are always about something. For all his cinephilia, they're inspired not, like Tarantino and Rodriguez, by other movies, but by life: by real people, encountering real feelings. And while this black-and-white deadpan pop culture satire may be a comedy, an dissection of cinematic storytelling, and a thoroughly cynical yarn, it's also a film about America and the people who live there. It's about those people's connections to each other, and their connections to the rooms they populate, the city streets, the suburbs, diners and highways. And it's made by someone who knows there may be reality in abstraction, who finds a visceral alliteration separating a snow-coated Lake Erie and a barren Florida beach, and who fashions an implausibly true character like Aunt Lotte, always jabbering to her tender company in Hungarian, whether they're listening or not.

An excellent example of why independent films are so invaluable, `Stranger Than Paradise,' written and directed by Jim Jarmusch, is a bare-bones production that never would have found the light of day in the mainstream. Essentially a character study, the story is a glimpse into the lives of three people: Willie (John Lurie); his cousin, Eva (Eszter Balint), recently arrived in New York from Hungary; and Willie's friend, Eddie (Richard Edson). After a couple of weeks in the Big Apple with Willie, Eva moves to Cleveland to live with their Aunt; a year later, Willie and Eddie are off to visit her. One thing leads to another, and the trio wind up in Florida (the designated paradise of the title). Watching this film is like spending time with some people you know; the characters are real people, so much so that watching them becomes almost voyeuristic, the camera somehow intrusive, exposing as it does the private lives of these individuals. It succinctly captures their lack of ambition, the ambiguity with which they approach life, and the fact that they seemingly have no prospects for the future beyond whatever a lucky day at the track affords them. The action, such as it is, is no more than what you would find in the average day of someone's life. The dialogue is what drives the film, though frankly, nothing they have to say is very interesting. And yet, this is an absolutely engrossing film; sometimes amusing, at times hilarious, but mesmerizing throughout. The performances are entirely credible, and again, you never have the sense that these are actors, but rather real people who happen to have had some moments from their lives filmed and presented to the audience for perusal. Jarmusch has an innate sense of capturing the essence of the everyday and transforming the most simplistic and mundane events into refreshingly documented, worthwhile viewing. It's an inspired piece of film making, helped to some extent by the stark black&white photography that adds to the realism of the overall proceedings. The use of brief blackouts during transitions works effectively, as well as providing the film with a unique signature. Original music is by Lurie, but the highlight is the use of the song `I Put A Spell On You,' by Screamin' Jay Hawkins, used recurringly throughout the movie, and which exemplifies that special touch Jarmusch brings to his projects. And there's a superb bit of irony at the end that really makes this gem sparkle. The supporting cast includes Cecillia Stark (Aunt Lotte), Danny Rosen (Billy), Tom DiCillo (Airline Agent), Richard Boes (Factory Worker) and Rockets Redglare, Harvey Perr and Brian J. Burchill (as the Poker players). `Stranger Than Paradise' may not be to everyone's liking, but to those seeking an alternative to the typical Hollywood big-budget fare available, it just may fit the bill and provide a satisfying, entertaining experience. I rate this one 8/10.

I just finished watching Stranger Than Paradise on DVD - the first time I'd seen it since its year of release. I'd always recalled the film with fondness, although I could never remember why I liked it. Several years after seeing the movie I came across the John Lurie soundtrack and bought it without stopping to listen, and been slightly taken aback by it. The haunting pieces were more emotionally esoteric than I expected, and it took some time for the album to grow on me.

Seeing the movie again, I understand why. The only piece of popular music in the film is Screamin' Jay Hawkin's "I Put a Spell on You" and, although I had forgotten that it was there, I guess that I had expected the soundtrack to be more like those of mainstream movies and have songs and such-like. I think that Lurie's music is perfect in situ and, as I've said, the soundtrack has also grown on me as standalone pieces.

The movie itself is a masterpiece. The black and white images present a starkness and a clarity that heightens the alienation of self in a land that was supposed to be the new hope for immigrants from a decaying old world. Instead we see Eva walking through a deserted ghost world of New York where the graffiti says "Yankee go home". America is only a dream, a collective vision of a better world; paradise somewhere on earth.

As Willie and Eddie journey west after winning some money, we see that the supposedly beautiful city of Cleveland is cold and desolate with a frozen lake. The further trip to Florida ends in the middle of nowhere next to a bleak and windswept ocean. Paradise is still somewhere out of reach. I think that's why the movie appeals to me. It shows that the America of popular mythology - the home of the brave, land of the free, protector of the downtrodden, guardian of democracy in the free world - is merely a construct. Too many people these days believe in the child's fantasy of America being some paradise that Iraq and Afghanistan should emulate. Jarmusch reminds us that it is people who give meaning to a symbol, not the other way around. He allows for the ability of people to make their own meanings and evolve beyond the stagnation of popular culture.

At a time I originally saw this movie I had recently left home and got my first job, moving from the country to the city, and maybe to some extent I identified with Eva - moving from Budapest to America. It was also my first taste of grownup film, if I recall correctly, and confirmed me with a lifelong fascination with the cinema. I have a lot to thank Jim Jarmusch for.

Stranger Than Paradise, which put filmmaker Jim Jarmusch on 'the map' in the small but superlative crop of independent filmmakers of the eighties (he was the first, then came the Coen Brothers, then Spike Lee, and then culminating in the 90's with the 'new wave' of independent filmmakers). What he presents here is a unique little treatise on youth, on the subtle and disconnected qualities that go in life when you don't have much to do. In a way it's an existentialist film without many very serious questions to deal with story or even character-wise (except until maybe the last fifteen minutes in the "Paradise" segment). Like a French New-Wave film, to which Jarmusch was heavily influenced by (i.e. the gorgeous, grainy black and white photography by Tom DiCillo), he leaves more for the audience to ponder, as they go along on their journey.

One of the things that Stranger Than Paradise has going for it is a sort of realism that, like and not-like a Wes Anderson film for example, is off-beat. Only here it is more of an urban sort of landscape and interiors that Jarmusch gives us with, along with its three principles. John Lurie as Willie is very good at having attitude when he needs it, but in reality is rather low-key in his 'hip-ness'. His cousin from Hungary pays him a visit (Eszter Balint as Eva, maybe too low-key at times, though appropriately observant of foreign territory). There is also his faithful companion Eddie, played in a great supporting tone and style by Richard Edson. The first segment of the film deals with her in New York. The second one has Eddie and Willie go to Cleveland to pay Eva a visit. Then in the third segment they go down to Florida to have some fun, only to have anything but.

In other words, those looking for a film where a lot of things 'happen' may be disappointed, or just bored. I've seen the film twice now, and on the first viewing I was a little detached from what was going on on screen, which is just little things going on with the characters, like one would see in everyday life. But on the second viewing I somehow connected more with these characters, the youth that seem to drift needlessly along. The editing of the film is also the most simplistic, though highly effective, in adding to the disconnected quality of Jarmusch's direction- no cuts during dialog, just fading to black, fading up, fading to black, fading up (Jarmusch would continue this with Down by Law and Dead Man, though not as frequent or strategic).

In fact, the whole film is rather deliberate in its style, but as the song that plays several times in the film "I Put a Spell On You" from Screamin' Jay Hawkins plays, it does work to bring a viewer in...or not. Like many in the "art-film" world, almost all of Jarmusch's films are either liked or not, and I think that's appropriate for his stories, which often deal with low-key characters dealing with unusual but either realistic or metaphorical situations. One thing I can say for certain, much like the French new-wave films inspired by it, it's imitated, but not equaled in its form.

Reading over the comments so far, it seems that most people think this film is great, with a rare few criticizing it for being a boring 'student-film'.

People, this is for sure not a film for those who've been brutalized by too much Hollywood cinema - it's a quiet movie that you absorb slowly. It's very well done and quite absorbing. Sure it makes me think of so-called student-films (my brother is in film school), but that's not to say it's not a damn good one. There's something to be said for beautiful photography (the black and white images go so well with the feelings of emptiness and coldness) and the search for a meaning in life. These people are desperately in need of meaning and affection, none of which they seem to be able to find - or give. This is a movie about that desperate search.

And it's well worth seeing - for those with a bit of patience and artistic sensibility. It's a movie about emptiness for sure, but is by no means 'boring'. I'd give it 4/5 stars.

A slow black and white film full of long pauses and minimal dialogue, Stranger Than Paradise can be a tough movie to watch for someone who is weaned on American pop cinema. It's constructed out of a series of shorts, stitched together to create a (somewhat) coherent whole. Two small time hustlers take their poker winnings and travel on a series of misadventures around America joined by the cousin of one of the con-men, an immigrant from Hungary. As with some of Jim Jarmusch's films, the focus is on the mundane in everyday life and how the characters approach it. The characters are looking for meaning in their empty and repetitious lives. Sort of an anti-road movie, there is some dry humor to break up the tedium. (6 out of 10)

The New World: The teenager Eva Molnar (Eszter Balint) arrives from Budapest, Hungary, and goes to the house of his cousin Willie, a.k.a. Bela Molnar (John Lurie) in a dangerous neighborhood in New York. Eva intends to travel to Cleveland to stay with her Aunt Lotte (Cecillia Stark), but the old woman is in the hospital and Eva has to stay with the idle Wille, who is absolutely indifferent to her. They spend their empty days smoking Chesterfield, watching television and playing solitaire and Eva befriends Willie's friend Eddie (Richard Edson). Then Willie and Eddie are connected to Eva and they miss her when she travels to Cleveland.

One Year Later: Willie and Eddie win a large amount in the poker game and they borrow a car and travel to Cleveland to visit Eva. They spend a couple of boring days in the house of Aunt Lotte.

Paradise: Willie and Eddie invite Eva to go on vacation in Florida. However they lose their money in the dog racing. Willie decides to bet their last money in the horse racing and they win money. Meanwhile Eva is wrongly taken by another woman and receives a large amount from a stranger. She leaves money for Willie and Eddie and goes to the airport expecting to travel to Europe, but there is only one flight to Budapest. Meanwhile Willie and Eddie seek her out in the airport. Will Willie find Eva?

"Stranger than Paradise" is an ironic and weird tale of emptiness and boredom by Jim Jarmusch, filmed in black and white and divided in three segments (acts). There are funny moments, like for example, when Willie has a phone conversation with his Aunt Lotte and tells that Eva will put his life on hold since the guy spends the days smoking, watching television, playing solitaire and gambling in the horse racing. Then he misses Eva, probably the only different thing that had happened in his boring and empty life. In the end, it is hilarious when Eddie asks to himself: What will Willie do in Budapest? "Stranger than Paradise" is not for every audience but those viewers that also enjoy cinema as art. My vote is eight.

Title (Brazil): "Estranhos no Paraíso" ("Stranger in the Paradise")

It's bleak. It's awkward. It drags. And it also haunts, for a long time after. Short black and white scenes seemingly filmed with all the finesse of security camera tapes, each fading to black without any sense of dramatic resolution. It's precisely the lack of resolution that keeps you going -- creating a weird kind of suspense. For me, a key to the story is that the John Lurie character, Willie, has never mentioned his Hungarian heritage to his best buddy, Eddy. He has chosen to cut himself off from his origins, but his "assimilation" into U.S. culture has led exactly to nowhere. When his teenage cousin comes to visit, fresh from Budapest, Willie's isolation becomes all the more evident. The silences between the two speak volumes. Aunt Lotte, the most appealing character, represents the vitality missing in Willie. I found the film oddly touching and I involuntarily cared about the characters, partly because the film maker wasn't trying to make me like them. The ending was ironic and perfect. Give this one a chance, and at the very least, your own life will seem very full and very colorful by contrast!

Jarmusch was never much of a guy to dip in the mainstream; "Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai" is about as Hollywood as you're going to get from him. His recent "Coffee and Cigarettes" might have alluded to his roots as an indie filmmaker, but its stories are monochromatic and offer little emotional variety save for the Albert Molina vignette. His best film might be this one, a miniature masterpiece that is underrated when compared to his other stuff. The basic premise of the film revolves around a New York immigrant from Eastern Europe, his goofy buddy, and his female cousin who comes to visit him and America as they jump from state to state.

There isn't much of a plot for sure, but Jarmusch more than compensates for this fact by creating three distinct characters that manage to be sweet without resorting to cheap sentiment. These guys might be rude and frivolous at times, but they never lose their sense of embarrassed compassion, nor as a direct result their humanity as complete characters as well. There's a morose wit to all of these proceedings. All three actors truly seem to have a playful camaraderie, working the motions of a natural friendship with Jarmusch's direction that shows them at their happiest only to be disappointed again and again, like a kid getting clothes instead of video games at Christmas once more. This honest and easygoing subtext doesn't include undemanding Hollywood moments of syrupy tenderness or mawkish emotion. For once, the clichéd adage of characters writing themselves is probably true here, as the film has an almost improvised quality to it. Jarmusch gets the careful balance between static ugliness and a subtext of natural warmth just right.

While the great heart of this film lies in its characterization, it's catapulted into greatness because of Jarmusch's quiet touch. In nearly every one of his films the director is obsessed with the awkward silences that make up nearly every relationship. He's much more revealing with the silences here, fleshing out character development in a car ride or while staring out at the blankness of snowy Cleveland. This brings me to my final point that Jarmusch again does with intelligence. When the characters move from city to city, they have a passionate belief that what they will find is something unbelievable. But the New York we see is a bunch of back alleys and graffiti. Cleveland is a blank white expanse, strangely vapid as opposed to pictorial. And Florida has to be the ugliest Florida ever depicted on screen, consisting mainly of a "Welcome to Florida" sign and a decrepit motel. While the main message is that life is often full of disappointments, that life is rarely full of transcendent moments, people can still connect with each other regardless of their surrounding environments. It's Jarmusch's best statement yet, and it's for these reasons this one must be seen even before even his fine "Mystery Train." The film, essentially a three-character comedy, is also thankfully kept brief, becoming genuinely meaningful and moving as a result.

Even fans of quirky, off-beat cult movies will find this one hard to swallow for the entire 90 minutes. It has a few moments scattered throughout the picture, but mostly plays like someone's senior film project trying to graduate from film school. Even after you realize the look and feel he is trying to capture, the film's narrative structure is too sparse to create any intensity of effect or adequate unity. Obviously an early effort by Jarmusch with much better films of his to view in recent years.

"Stranger than Paradise" is so straightforward and simple that you could easily mistake Jim Jarmusch's approach for cockiness. A three-part film comprised of single-take scenes, the bones of the film are so bare that you have to wonder how a filmmaker can be so nonchalant as if expecting the audience will bother to meet him where he's at.

The film follows first generation American turned New York hipster Willie (John Lurie) who is tasked with hosting his cousin Eva (Eszter Balint) from Budapest before she moves out to Cleveland to live with his aunt, then a year later follows Willie and his best friend Eddie (Richard Edson) as they road trip to Cleveland to visit Eva and finally the three's spontaneous trip to Florida.

Jarmusch's story is essential a alternative distillation of the American dream. It features an unglamorous immigrant story, two guys who see success as gambling their way into good fortune and a Florida vacation that's ten times worse than whatever picture you currently hold in your mind for a Florida vacation. Jarmusch presents these in short scenes that end with fades to black, usually brief moments of character interaction in which at best we get a flavor of who these people are and how they feel about each other. The tone is somewhere been mundane and laid back, with the occasional moments of drama and levity feeling like major breakthroughs in storytelling.

As such, the audience has to be patient and do a little work to access the real fruit of Jarmusch's labor — yet not in the decoding sense. He puts everything right out there; we have to draw our own connections as to what the value of a particular vignette could be. Presumably, he wants our own experiences to inform the subtle drama and dynamics between characters.

So it takes a certain frame of mind to take something away from "Stranger than Paradise." Jarmusch puts it all out there, but not on a silver platter. He delivers this film with such poise and sure-handedness, the kind you might only expect from an established, confident auteur. He knows the story he wants to tell and how he wants to tell it, and he's not concerned with what anyone expects or wants. Naturally, it makes "Stranger than Paradise" far from a crowd-pleaser, yet for anyone interested in the nuance of filmmaking and visual storytelling, it's a really admirable, approach with a distinct vision.

~Steven C

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Watched for the second time the other night, and was struck how formal this really is. Every scene is a single take, some static, some with very stylized camera movement (static shot up the street to an approaching car; pick up car and track it as it passes, static again as it drives off). Occasionally an actor wanders off screen to the right, despite the camera trying to keep up; just this slight effect, surrounded as it is by so much silence and stillness, is enough to produce a slight frisson of tension. Blackouts separate the scenes, but either ambient sound or music cues continue as transitions during the cuts.

The main characters' costumes underline their alienation from the world around them. Judging from the props & surroundings, film seems to be set in contemporary (early-1980s) time. Willie and Eddie dress and act like late-Fifties/early-Sixties racetrack touts, and they seem most at ease in the retro living room of Aunt Lotte, who presumably left Hungary during that period. Eva's costumes likewise proclaim 'outsider,' though the dreary black she wears can signify either a refugee from East Europe or a jaded bohemian poseur.

First viewing a number of years back, I thought the film was offhanded and casual, with not much going on. A second viewing changed my mind - the absolute minimalism of the plot and dialogue leave plenty of space to explore Jarmusch's technique, composition, etc. It made me laugh out loud a couple of times, too.

Stranger Than Paradise begins with Hungarian Eva immigrating to America where she stays with her cousin Willie for ten days in New York City before heading to an older relative's place in Cleveland, Ohio. Willie is ashamed of his Hungarian heritage and is resentful of Eva's stay which was intended to be much shorter. Eva ignores his rude behavior and the two eventually begin to bond. A year later Willie and his goofy friend Eddie borrow a car to visit Eva in Cleveland in spite of their lack of interest in the area. From there the trio sets off on vacation to a Florida paradise that never quite materializes.

Although transients and others who are uncomfortable with their environments appear frequently in the films of Jim Jarmusch to this day, the theme of impermanence is particularly evident in his early work. His student film Permanent Vacation is about a man who slowly says goodbye to his home city before fulfilling the promise of the title, Mystery Train is a film set in Memphis with hardly any characters who have spent much time there, and Night on Earth takes place almost entirely in moving motor vehicles.

Thus it's no surprise that none of the three main characters in Stranger Than Paradise shows any intention to acquire a steady job (or any job at all in the case of the male characters) or any reluctance to take an extended leave of absence from his or her normal life. These characters have a price to pay for their freedom, however: although they aren't tied down in any one place everywhere they go seems to be the same as the last place they were in. The areas they inhabit in New York, Ohio, and Florida are progressively less urban but they all look equally drab and uninviting; even the beach they visit looks utterly cheerless. These are characters whose hang-ups have nothing to do with their surroundings; they're going to find the same experiences no matter where they go because they have walled themselves into a perfectly insular world where they're free to behave the same way all the time and enjoy the same limited pleasures and discomforts. This is why Willie is just as unwilling to take Eva out with his friend in Florida as he is in New York. This isn't lost on the characters, however, as Willie responds to Eddie's complaint that even in a new place "everything looks the same" with three words: "No kidding, Eddie." While Eddie is barely bright enough to recognize their situation, Willie is too apathetic and arrogant to attempt to change it. The only character who ever seems to make a conscious effort to break free from the Sartrean purgatory they have slipped into is Eva, whose motivations tend to be hidden behind her inability to communicate with her self absorbed companions. She's as ineffectual as she is enigmatic, however, as ultimately even her most impulsive actions fail to bring about any meaningful change.

Writer/director Jim Jarmusch does an excellent job of capturing the existential quandary of his characters through careful choice of locations and aesthetics. His camera tends to be still and his shots tend to be long; in fact the characters almost seemed to be trapped within the camera frame in many shots. Perhaps his most notable accomplishment in Stranger Than Paradise is his ability to capture locations that give a sense of disparate geography but still maintain a coldly similar atmosphere consistently. With only his second feature film Jarmusch was already beginning to find his own cinematic voice.

"Stranger than Paradise" is a stark and beautiful film. It could almost pass for Kerouac on film: the loneliness of America and the quiet desperation that is so brutally obvious and ever-present in its silence. And there are very few filmmakers who would have the daring or the insight to include long moments of silence such as "Stranger" has. Leave it to the existentialists to break a film-school taboo.

This is obviously not a film to show your college drinking buddies. That's a good thing, though. It's a film that meditates, for lack of a better term. And it demands that the viewers meditate, contemplate the grey, endless skies and the endless layer of white that makes most life dormant or sluggish during winter.

And when the characters arrived in Florida, it almost took me back to my childhood days when my family and I would arrive, by car, to some small town somewhere in America during summer; it brought to me that same sort of mild despair and disorientation that returning home from the family roadtrip always inspired.

And, I dont know, there's something then altogether tragic about Florida in winter anyway. There's an eternal longing in these characters and I think we can feel it even more because of the landscapes Jarmusch used in this film. A Florida motel in winter, with the sun beating down; and Cleveland, during the same winter, soulless and icy.

Beautiful, beautiful film and it's hard to stop commenting on the feelings it brings out. Shame though that Jarmusch hasnt really made a film that is as daring or expressive as "Stranger."

Director Jim Jarmusch made a name for himself by directing cool, relaxed films; and it has to be said that he's done it rather well on a few occasions. Down By Law was probably his first big success, but Stranger Than Paradise was his first feature film. The film features the relaxed atmosphere that Jarmusch is famous for creating, and it also looks the part with its silky black and white picture...but as a film, it's not all that good. The relaxed plot is far too relaxed to the point of boredom, and none of the three central performers manage to lift the film above the norm. Much of the film simply sees the characters sitting around talking, and their conversations aren't exactly fascinating. There is a sense of irony, especially regarding the ending; but other than that, the film doesn't show a lot of intelligence either. This film apparently started out as a thirty minute short; and that sounds about right, as it all feels very stretched and that's unfortunate, as it would have made a fairly decent short film. The plot simply follows a Hungarian man in New York who receives an unwelcome visit from his cousin. Jarmusch doesn't do a very good job of portraying his characters, and we don't get to learn much about them from their conversations. The only real positive element of this film as far as I can see is the cinematography, which really does look good. Overall, this is a rather dull and pretentious film that looks good. I wouldn't hesitate to recommend Night on Earth, Dead Man and Down By Law before this.

I first saw this film in the theater in 1984, so this is the first time I've seen it since then. I remember at the time telling people what an amazing film it was, deliberately non-commercial and, while the plot is not really about much, it has a rhythm and clarity that was so unlike films at the time. Shot in black and white, the film consists of a number of "snapshot scenes", there is a slight pause between scenes in which the screen goes black, a very effective method of telling this deceptively simple story. Basically, its the story of Eva (Eszter Balint), who has to stop over on her way to Cleveland to live with her Aunt Lotte, emigrating from Hungary. She has to stay at her cousin Willie's apartment in New York for ten days. Willie is played with remarkable restraint by John Lurie, who at the time was the epitome of cool since he fronted the jazz band The Loungs Lizards. Willie and his friend Eddie (Richard Edson, also very good) decide to drive to Cleveland a year after Eva visited to see Eva and Aunt Lotte. What follows is a few bizarre coincidences, after Eva, Willie and Eddie decide to drive to Florida. That the story is told so soberly and with remarkable continuity made people at the time and since hail writer/director Jarmusch as an important voice in cinema, a distinction he still holds. A few observations about the film: The film to me seems like it could be influenced by Japanese master Ozu. The simple layout of the film, the camera angles etc are somewhat of an homage to the great filmmaker. Also, the soundtrack, which was composed by Lurie, is extremely effective in sustaining the mood of the film. This film is not for everyone, it is a stark, simple but utterly compelling independent minded film. This film is not for casual film fans. Actually, I think this film should be part of the curriculum of any film class. If you can come close to equaling Jarmusch's sense of both the absurd and reality, you could turn out to be as much of an auteur as he is considered.

Stranger than Paradise is a excellent example of a good independent movie. Shot on black & white negative 16mm film, the entire film doesn't have a single cut from one shot to another. Each scene begins and ends with a fade or jump to black. It is almost like watching a series of snap shots as you watch this unlikely story or three unlikely characters. The setting of New York City, Cleveland and Florida only add to the originality of the story with a simple, yet honest plot. Although this is not your typical drama or comedy, the movie ends up being funny and at sometimes a true drama. An interesting story that keeps you watching until the very end. A good independent film.

I came to Jim Jarmusch's films quite late in the day (Deadman was the first I saw) but I'm glad I finally did.

Whereas the films of Terrence Malick are profoundly lyrical and moving, and those of David Lynch disturbingly exotic for most viewers, the films of Jim Jarmusch take the ordinary and very prosaic aspects of society, and its denizens, and lifts them all up to the reality that it truly is.

We all know that our lives are fairly mundane, for most of us; that we all have to slog away at our tiny little dreams to try to make sense of our own little worlds; and that we all have to do whatever we can to relate to those who are close to us. But Paradise? Well, that's such a remote word that few give it a moment's thought, except the religious of course. Well, here's Jim Jarmusch's answer for all those who suffer from Paradise-deprived angst: it's right in front of you. Everyday. That's all there is, pilgrim.

The story traces the quite uneventful days of three main characters: Willie (John Lurie), a cheap hustler who tries to get by, any way he can this side of the law; Eddie (Richard Edson), his friend, a somewhat dull-witted, guileless sort of guy who just wants to please; and Eva (Eszter Balint), Willie's cousin who unexpectedly arrives from Hungary on her way to visit her old aunt in Cleveland, Ohio.

Eva stays a few days with Willie, meets Eddie, sits and watches TV with Willie for hours on end, cleans up his apartment, Willie buys her a dress and, a day later, Eva leaves to go to Cleveland, dumping the dress Willie bought for her in a trash can while Eddie looks on. Not a scintillating story line at all, according to a review I read a while back. But, wait there's more… A year after Eva leaves, Willie and Eddie decide to visit her in Cleveland, and after a long trip by auto, they both arrive to stay with Willie's aunt and renew their acquaintance with Eva. After a few days' sightseeing in the frozen north, so to speak, with Eddie's not-so-memorable summation of a frozen Lake Erie: "It's beautiful", Willie invites Eva to go with them to Florida. She agrees, much to the old aunt's disgust and anger. As they leave, she mutters, "Son of a bitch!"

So, is this a road movie in disguise? Well, we know that Jim Jarmusch loves autos, roads and cities because all of his movies (except Deadman) include those modern icons so indicative of America and the post-industrial world. So, it is one, in that in a sense, but now it's really about Willie and Eddie wanting to make a lot of money – the Great American Dream -- on the betting tracks in Florida. And Eva is no doubt attracted by the thought of money also.

After another relatively long sequence of shots on freeways, they end up at a motel, on a beach, somewhere on the Florida coast. The next morning the guys go off to the dog track, leaving Eva asleep. When they come back, almost broke, Willie's browned off with Eddie for suggesting it, Eddie's browned off by Willie's attitude and Eva's browned off with both of them for being left alone. Willie, with Eddie, then takes the last fifty bucks to the horses, wins big and comes back to celebrate. However… To say any more would be to reveal just how Jim Jarmusch injects his own special brand of chaos and irony in all of his movies. And, if you've come this far in this review, I'd recommend you see it.

I loved this movie: the great acting, the B/W photography, the strident and discordant music, the sharp cuts to black, the sparse and so very ordinary dialog. It was so ordinary, and yet promised so much to the players and all players who are looking for their own Paradise. But, Paradise is but a dream, and our realities are truly stranger. If you're a Jarmusch fan, you'll see it: in a way, it's an exposition of the extraordinary nature of ordinary humans and how they live.

But, it's not a movie for action fans or those who must have an upbeat and unrealistic ending.