It is often argued that the last "traditional western" was Clint Eastwood's Unforgiven in 1992; the final farewell to the genre, as such. Nonetheless, some notable westerns have been released since, an one of those is Dead Man, a spiritual western which ranks among my favourite films. When released in 1995, the film gained a vastly mixed critical verdict and although the film's reputation is constantly improving, many opposing opinions of greatness still exist. Often cited critic Roger Ebert infamously said "Jim Jarmusch is trying to get at something here, and I don't have a clue what it is." Dare I say that Ebert could simply have been oblivious to the film's metaphorical ideas, offering viewing interpretation? Personally, I believe so.
Built on existential motifs and experimental film-making procedures, this is a western which relies on its heavy use of symbolism. Covering what is ultimately a man's longing to escape death and the inability to accept one's fate, Dead Man opens with a train ride, which I consider a metaphor for the protagonist's journey towards pre-spiritual enlightenment. Set against a jarring instrumental score performed by Neil Young, the twanging guitar chords burrow beneath the viewer's senses and subconsciously etch a permanently recognisable sound into the viewer's mind. As the title so subtly suggests, the central character (William Blake, played by Johnny Depp) is established as a "dead man" from the opening sequence. The opening sequence is comprised of a tiresome and seemingly endless train journey, whereby nobody speaks and Blake drifts wearily between observance and slumber. During this extended opening, the train's fireman speaks to Blake, describing his destination (the town of Machine) as "hell" and a town where you are "just as likely to find your own grave."
On arriving in Machine a factory-ridden town of garish mechanisms- Blake realises that the job of which he was given a letter for does not require his services at that present time, since he is supposedly late on arrival. The scenes shot within the town represent a community which is experiencing a steep progression of technological advance; essentially depicting the pollution and greed caused by modern labour in the Western world. Exhausted and disappointed, Blake meets a young woman selling flowers, who is a contrast of beauty in a land fuelled by ugliness and bitter consumerism, but she too seems rather bitter and lifeless. It should be noted that the flowers she sells are made of paper, meaning that although they will never rot, they are fake and inert. Plus, the paper is from the trees, which have been killed for financial and consumerist obligations.
Upon meeting this young girl, Blake becomes entranced and sleeps with the woman. Unfortunately, her ex-lover returns the next morning to find them both in bed together; the situation escalates into a clumsy gunfight, whereby Blake gets mortally wounded. Realising that he has to flee the town, he meets a Native American (named Nobody, played by Gary Farmer) who thankfully saves his life. From this moment onwards, Blake becomes a wanted man, embarking on a surrealist mission of self-discovery with his newfound friend. This is used as a means of preparing for death and helps him to acknowledge his foreseeable conclusion upon witnessing the fragility of life.
Filmed in black and white, Dead Man is a film which defines visceral and audacious beauty. The black and white photography tones the film in a way which is bleakly mesmerising and places a potent prominence on the protagonist's restless and consistently lingering emotions. I cannot begin to stress how important it is that a viewer recognises that it is up to them to dissect and interpret what is laid bare before them. Pondering many of life's questions through weighty symbolism and a subtle combination of wit and wisdom, Dead Man does what many films cannot and succeeds admirably. This is meditative viewing, the kind of which will become a reoccurring memory during those restless and weary nights. Allow Dead Man the courtesy to question and enlighten you to the splendour of sorrow and the transformation of life to death.
Built on existential motifs and experimental film-making procedures, this is a western which relies on its heavy use of symbolism. Covering what is ultimately a man's longing to escape death and the inability to accept one's fate, Dead Man opens with a train ride, which I consider a metaphor for the protagonist's journey towards pre-spiritual enlightenment. Set against a jarring instrumental score performed by Neil Young, the twanging guitar chords burrow beneath the viewer's senses and subconsciously etch a permanently recognisable sound into the viewer's mind. As the title so subtly suggests, the central character (William Blake, played by Johnny Depp) is established as a "dead man" from the opening sequence. The opening sequence is comprised of a tiresome and seemingly endless train journey, whereby nobody speaks and Blake drifts wearily between observance and slumber. During this extended opening, the train's fireman speaks to Blake, describing his destination (the town of Machine) as "hell" and a town where you are "just as likely to find your own grave."
On arriving in Machine a factory-ridden town of garish mechanisms- Blake realises that the job of which he was given a letter for does not require his services at that present time, since he is supposedly late on arrival. The scenes shot within the town represent a community which is experiencing a steep progression of technological advance; essentially depicting the pollution and greed caused by modern labour in the Western world. Exhausted and disappointed, Blake meets a young woman selling flowers, who is a contrast of beauty in a land fuelled by ugliness and bitter consumerism, but she too seems rather bitter and lifeless. It should be noted that the flowers she sells are made of paper, meaning that although they will never rot, they are fake and inert. Plus, the paper is from the trees, which have been killed for financial and consumerist obligations.
Upon meeting this young girl, Blake becomes entranced and sleeps with the woman. Unfortunately, her ex-lover returns the next morning to find them both in bed together; the situation escalates into a clumsy gunfight, whereby Blake gets mortally wounded. Realising that he has to flee the town, he meets a Native American (named Nobody, played by Gary Farmer) who thankfully saves his life. From this moment onwards, Blake becomes a wanted man, embarking on a surrealist mission of self-discovery with his newfound friend. This is used as a means of preparing for death and helps him to acknowledge his foreseeable conclusion upon witnessing the fragility of life.
Filmed in black and white, Dead Man is a film which defines visceral and audacious beauty. The black and white photography tones the film in a way which is bleakly mesmerising and places a potent prominence on the protagonist's restless and consistently lingering emotions. I cannot begin to stress how important it is that a viewer recognises that it is up to them to dissect and interpret what is laid bare before them. Pondering many of life's questions through weighty symbolism and a subtle combination of wit and wisdom, Dead Man does what many films cannot and succeeds admirably. This is meditative viewing, the kind of which will become a reoccurring memory during those restless and weary nights. Allow Dead Man the courtesy to question and enlighten you to the splendour of sorrow and the transformation of life to death.