The Limits of Control DVD Review
Posted by Erik Luers on 11.20.2009
La Vie Boheme......
Bill Murray (Ghostbusters), Tilda Swinton(The Chronicles of Narnia), Gael Garcia Bernal (Babel) , and John Hurt (Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) are all mainstream names in the movie business, even to those only somewhat familiar with the current films at their local cinema. In The Limits of Control, these actors find themselves working with Jim Jarmusch, a non-mainstream filmmaker, and what we get is a rousing artistic success and a financial failure (domestically speaking in terms of box office). Strange how often that happens. Hopefully, my encouragement and kind (and truthful) words on the film will dare someone else to give it a try. It’s not for everyone, but it may just be for you.
The Film
An existentialist's view on existentialism, Jim Jarmusch’s The Limits of Control is about why we are here and, given the circumstance, what we were put here to do. It’s the love child of Samuel Beckett and Bertolt Brecht, and the abandoned stepchild of Søren Kierkegaard. It isn’t so much of a film as it is a concept, a hypothesis designed not only to test our patience but our own curiosity. To describe the plot would prove pointless; the film is interested in the absence of one. Our leading man, credited only as The Lone Man, is given a task of which we are not entirely sure by a man whom we are not entirely sure of. I will let you know that the man goes on to carry out this task, and that I know this not because I know what the task is but because of how confident and sure of himself The Lone Man is when he does it. If we knew who he worked for, we’d be sure to elect him as employee of the year. In 2009, we had an eccentric film from the Coen Brothers entitled A Serious Man, but wait until you see Isaach de Bankole’s performance in this one. He is even seriouser. Seriouser is not a word, I know, but in going with one of the film’s themes, “reality is arbitrary”, we can hope to one day dream up its existence.
The Limits of Control is a hollow film, but it is not, in this writer’s opinion, empty or void of ideas. In fact, it is quite the opposite, focusing on a philosophical (and not necessarily pretentious) world view of what it means and feels like to be alive. I realize that this sounds heavy in theory, but watching the film, these are not ideas that are blatant or pushed straight to the forefront. They are there for you if you choose to look, and I can only recommend that you do.
Our Lone Man waits patiently in Spain for a man with a violin. When the men encounter each other in person, they will exchange a box of matches. Inside the box the Lone Man receives is a small piece of paper with a cryptic group of letters. He looks at it, puts it in his mouth, finishes his espresso (one of them, anyway), and swallows it down. What do the letters mean? How could the Lone Man have memorized them so fast? What’s the significance of the violin? And there we go looking for a needle in a nice and tidy metaphorical haystack.
The Lone Man will come across many overtly symbolic characters throughout The Limits of Control, and they all identify him via the question, “you don’t speak Spanish, right?” He responds, “no”, and their meet and greet session is already halfway over. Some try to talk more and discuss their past (i.e. the John Hurt character and his reminiscing about his father), but the Lone Man just sits there and takes it all in, never showing much emotion. What’s very interesting are the times he does seem upset or out of his comfort zone, such as when he encounters a mysterious woman on the train obsessed with molecules and cell theory. She suggests to him that we do not actually have control over our own bodies, and this realization angers him greatly. He must always be in control, and this provides a rare moment when the Lone Man appears threatened by the idea of his lack thereof.
One woman (played by Tilda Swinton) he encounters at the cafe remarks that she loves movies where people just sit around and don’t speak. While he ironically doesn’t say anything, I’m pretty sure the Lone Man agrees. He is an astute lover of the arts, a man with an appreciation for classy museums and classical music. He stares at paintings for what seems like hours on end, and is meticulously enamored with them. He is put in a spell, and his concentration cannot be broken (feel free to draw your own comparisons between the character and Jim Jarmusch here). He always focuses on one specific piece — when he puts music on at his apartment, he drowns the outside world out completely (including nearby naked women) and hypnotically stares at his stereo speakers — and I wish well on the poor chap who dare disturb him. To enjoy art is to fully give yourself over to it and the experience that may transpire as a result.
Let’s take a moment to talk about that dangerous word, “art”. The film questions what this concept actually is, and in doing so, taps into an age old discussion and be all, end all debate. Is art about what you see or what you get from it? Some may accuse the movie of being much more interesting to talk about than it is to sit down and view, but this was not the case for humble old me. As I was watching The Limits of Control, I thought greatly about the vast perception of art and how it can be definitively defined. What makes the Mona Lisa so great (besides the fact that we’ve been told it’s so)? Is it the artistry in Da Vinci’s technique or the spiritual and stimulating feeling we have after the fact, whenever we stop to contemplate it? Is it great art? Is the term “bad art” an oxymoron? Can the word “art” objectively classify an object without being a hyperbolic value of its worth?
A few times in the film, the Lone Man stares at a “painting” fully covered by a white sheet, and he appears fascinated by what he sees. Let the intense discussions begin about what it is he sees. Later in the film, he will come across this piece again, which leads me to believe that it is somewhat significant to him, us, art enthusiasts. Do artists consider white the absence of color, or is it black? I am reminded of the great Yesmine Reza play, Art, about a man who pays an inordinate amount of money for a plain white painting by a famous and well respected artist. His two friends think he’s crazy for buying what they consider to be a blank piece of nothingness, and the friendship is threatened by their inability to see eye to eye on what the darn thing means. We see things that aren’t there, or we convince ourselves of their presence. But again, if the person sees and feels something, doesn’t that make it somewhat higher than worthless?
At one point in Art, one of the friends threatens to take a black marker to the painting, thereby ruining its ultimate worth. Oh, the dreaded horror this causes. It's not until the end of the play that we realize that Reza believes not in the discouraging two friends, but in the one that bought the painting. The final monologue, by one of the doubtful friends, shows that he finally does get something out of the white on white piece of abstract confusion, and perhaps the Lone Man would too. He’s fascinated by the possibility; subjectivity is a remarkable thing.
You have to go into this film with an open mind about Bohemian culture, and those that don’t are portrayed as oppressed antagonists. Frequent Jarmusch go to buddy, Bill Murray, shows up as one of the suits, and his character is created to serve as opposition to the free willed Lone Man. Murray’s character is against the idea of something more, something absolute, and he tries to be a metaphorical roadblock. The confrontation between the two men is all symbolism, and we are alerted of this when the Lone Man closes his eyes and “morphs” inside the highly guarded facility. When asked how he got in, he simply responds, “I imagined it”. He should be an official spokesman for that Oprah Winfrey endorsed joke of a book, “The Secret”, for whatever he believes in comes true. Oh, and the Lone man also meditates every morning , but in a way, that explains itself.
The film allows you to draw your own conclusions, and the most admirable thing it does is assume you have some. Like a lot of early Ingmar Bergman films, the plot is invisible, but the ideas it presents can last you a lifetime. In its own peculiar way, like all art, this movie is subjective and theological. If you have religious ties, you may think one thing, and if you're an atheist at heart, you may just see a man who likes to drink espressos in two separate cups. Jarmusch places crosses near the ominous cafe (in closeup, no less), and yet some moviegoers may think nothing of it. But look a little closer and perhaps you'll see a Squire from the 12th century playing a not so friendly game of chess.
Film: 9.0
Technical Aspects
Video: Presented in its original 1:85:1 Widescreen aspect ratio, the film looks very good here. The colors are very bright, and each exterior sparkles with vivid detail. The darkly lit interior scenes are a mixed bag though. Some of the nighttime sequences seem a little fuzzy, and some of those ever pesky digital artifacts are present, but what can you do? It isn’t too distracting, and didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the film in the least. 20 chapter stops are included.
Audio: Presented in 5.1 Sound (English), the DVD’s audio track is solid. There isn’t much of a score here to critique (once in a while one rears its head), but when it’s present, it creeps up on you and works effectively. The film deals primarily with nondiegetic sound more than anything else, and that is thankfully this track’s strong point. It’s a quiet movie, but the everyday sounds of The Lone Man’s environment are nicely balanced and well noticed here. English, French, and Spanish subtitles are included.
Technical Aspects: 8.0
Special Features
Behind Jim Jarmush: Part One (29:36): This is a very insightful, in depth look at the physical production of the film. Jim Jarmusch is an unique figure, to say the least, but he is very passionate and fully concentrated on what needs to get done and when. Some highlights of part one include seeing John Hurt sit in a chair and mellow out on set, and then later seeing him go up on one of his lines. We also witness Issach De Bankole smile and laugh once in a while, which is somewhat shocking after you see how he is in the movie. It is a very relaxed set, and the townspeople seem to love watching from behind the crew. Oh, and wait until you hear Jarmusch talk about an Orson Welles interview he saw on television years ago. What are the odds?
Behind Jim Jarmush: Part Two (21:50): A continuation of part one, we get more on set footage that provides a fly on the wall view of the filmmaking process. Bill Murray and Tilda Swinton’s scenes are discussed and shown being set up and shot, and for people like me who love seeing how these moments were captured on film (even if it takes away a little bit from the, ugh, “magic”), you will get a real kick out of this. It all seems so complicated and yet very specific, and it is, and in a way, so is the movie. A highlight of this segment involves De Bankole talking about Jarmusch’s eccentric style, not of his filmmaking but of the way the man dresses. For the record, Jarmusch’s hair should get its own documentary someday.
Untitled Landscapes (04:14): A series of shots (aka a montage) of some shots used and some shots not are compiled here to intrigue the viewer. A lot of it feels like unused dailies or stuff second unit filmed on their days off the set (a lot of location traveling shots), but it is visually interesting nonetheless. It’s like a complex, trippy music video. The Lone Man is shown once or twice staring straight ahead (as he normally finds himself doing), and the final image shows a beautiful sunset above a nice city landscape. This is great to watch once, but at four minutes, it’s much too brief to leave an impact. Still, give it a try. It’s psychedelic, man, and would make for one hell of a moving screensaver.
Trailers for John Putch’s American Pie Presents: The Book Of Love, and Park Chan-wook’s Thirst are included, as well as Promo spots for Focus Features, and Blu-Ray Technology.
Extras: 9.0
Film: 9.0 Technical Aspects: 8.0 Extras: 9.0
The 411: The Limits of Control is a marvelous head scratcher, and it perplexes the mind in ways so few movies do. One could see this movie and think there is nothing to it, or one could see it as I did and think it says almost everything. It's all up for interpretation and relies on what you choose to accept and bring to it. To say it's either good or bad seems pointless. It's a blank slate, like a white sheet of paper, and you're free to draw your own conclusions; beauty is in the eye of the beholder. The DVD is highly recommended, with special features that are informative and just spare enough to leave the film's meaning up to the viewer. And, you know, that's how I like it.
