Crying in Paris, Texas

 What’s cooking, good-looking? 

Introducing to you my top 4 films:

1. Paris, Texas—Wim Wenders

My all-time favourite film! It’s truly one of a kind. Some stupid boy once said, “Oh, isn’t it just a love story?” NO?!

I mean, my path to discovering it certainly was; I actually remember it all too well! 

A sick day in August where I completely lost my voice and was left bedridden, crying for some maternal figure to come and nurse me back to health. I was actually stalking people (my crush) on Letterboxd when I stumbled upon this film. My immediate reaction was: did Lana Del Rey write her song about this? (She didn’t) 

I proceeded to watch it, did a little “OHHH” when I saw Sam Shepard’s name pop on the screen, and was left mesmerised for the next two hours.

The quietness and the deeply emotional tone made me feel like I cut my veins open and was bleeding out right there in front of the screen. This feels dark, but I don’t mean it like that.

It’s an interval film. To what? Maybe the last step to greatness, or the rewarding feeling of having witnessed art?

The film is bleeding out right there along with you. Its silence wraps around you, and you’re waiting to be discovered. 

Now, finishing this film didn’t feel like dying (my swollen eyes might have disagreed with me there), but it left me completely drained. Everything that was there before me was just replaced. All I could think of was ‘Paris, Texas’; all that I was was this film. There would never be something else ever again.

I’m a sucker for a good dialogue. Screenplays aren’t literature, but they allow for a visual poetry to happen. It’s the basis of everything; it lays the foundation of the relationship dynamics, character arcs and their behaviour. My dream career would be reading scripts and plays over and over again until I would be nothing other than the characters’ words. A well-written character stems from a good screenplay. A well-written screenplay is all you need.

There is little to no dialogue happening in this film. If it weren’t for the twangy cowboy music that was constantly playing in the background, then I would have thought I was watching a silent film. It proved to me that a dialogue-heavy film doesn’t equate to a masterpiece; it’s everything that isn’t said but is still being heard (or rather, seen) that makes it one.

The performances were fantastic. Jane and Travis are two of the most interesting and memorable individuals that I could never picture standing face to face (without the separation). I’ve seen the film for the tenth time now, imagining them next to each other and hearing them talk feels wrong. The video camera footage of them on the beach was brilliant. You felt their love, but you couldn’t hear a thing. 

It was like the scene in the booth; you’re behind the glass, and you can’t do anything. Be the witness and accept it.

The ending broke my heart, but there was no other one possible. Acceptance was all you had to do, but I’m glad that I got to experience the heartache and the beauty that this film brings.

All in all, I urge you to watch films you wouldn’t think of necessarily watching when you’re sick and to always (gently) stalk your crushes online.

Next time, we’ll discuss the beauty of not knowing everything in Kiarostami’s film “Taste of Cherry,” aka my second favourite film!