The Limits of Control Jim Jarmusch, 2009
so, the lone man goes around Spain, enjoying the architecture, enjoying the art, enjoying something. He's sharply dressed and perfectly still and all that stuff. He's the epitome of self-control. Then he gets some kind of assignment, relayed to him through codes and signs and all this bunch of other nonsense. He goes around Spain looking for these people that have the instructions for him. They find him sipping two expressos. They go on at length about whatever subject interests them. The Lone Man hardly responds to them, but he seems to internally digest what they say. Even if they don't speak the same language, they're the same kind of people, even if The Lone Man doesn't have a people. He's still part of some kind of larger world community that's against people who think they're bigger than everyone else. Basically, AMERICANS, who are ugly and not creative bohemians or something. It's pretty cute and idealistic in a way and interesting in all the usual roujin ways, but I guess the reason I like it is because it feels like Jarmusch has basically stripped pretty much everything but the repetition and the variations on the theme from his repertoire. The only new tool is Doyle's cinematography, which is amazing, duh, but come on. Well, I guess Boris' score is awesome, too. Boris is awesome. I am awesome. You are awesome.
Gossip Girl is the greatest TV show of ALL TIME.