Paris, Texas DVD

One of the most beautifully shot films that you will see, with Wenders’ trademark use of primaries and green flooding or pointing up nearly every frame. How this use o... Read on

One of the most beautifully shot films that you will see, with Wenders’ trademark use of primaries and green flooding or pointing up nearly every frame. How this use of colour never becomes formulaic or tiresome is one of Wenders’ great skills – that and knowing how to let a film breathe so it creates its own rhythm. (One slight quibble with this shortest of long films is that some of the takes could have been even more languorous then they are – I felt rushed on to the next scene a few times.) The film’s rhythm is also assisted by Ry Cooder’s guitar track, which preserves the improvised immediacy of a live accompanist.

It’s a lonesome, broken tale that leaves all its main characters at a new beginning – none of them comfortable or certain. No-one says too much, but the film answers all its own questions. We know the whys that have led eveybody to the point at which they are left at the end. Now they all just have to carry on as best they can. It’s at this point that the film opens out into the world: that woman and child in a hotel block; that man driving down a highway; that couple in a now quiet house overlooking an airport; these people are all around us, full of their own stories; carrying on.

Does Travis ever countenance the thought of reunting with Jane? Maybe before he sees her but as soon as he does, then no. He knows himself too well, and knows that four years walking through deserts has not burnt out his capacity to love her to distraction and to jealousy.
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Lost, speechless, wilderness-wandering Stanton searches for his wife and finds himself. THE cult road movie, Wenders' unanimous Cannes Palme d'Or winner fuses American... Read on

Lost, speechless, wilderness-wandering Stanton searches for his wife and finds himself. THE cult road movie, Wenders' unanimous Cannes Palme d'Or winner fuses American and European cinema at a new sublime level. Cooder's haunting guitar, Muller's stunning photography, Kinski an icon and the peepshow scene transcendent in its intimacy: few films come close. JD. Hide