DEAD MAN A
USA Germany Japan
(121 mi) 1995 d: Jim
Jarmusch
The eagle never lost
so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow.
―William Blake, from The
Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 1793
From the lower register guitar riffs from Neil Young that
play throughout the film, Dead
Man - Neil Young (Guitar Solo #1) - YouTube (5:18), that in fact punctuate
each scene, the secret to understanding this film is realizing that each
character remains true to themselves.
Johnny Depp plays the same character he played on his TV debut on 21 Jump Street, a straight arrow who
hasn’t a clue what he’s dealing with, as the world around him is immersed in nightmarish
greed and corruption as initially prophesied by a coal-faced Crispin Glover, a
coal-stoker on the long train ride from Cleveland to somewhere out West, beautifully
shot in Black and White by Robby Müller, where his preminiscient ramblings are
not taken seriously and also represented by Robert Mitchum in his oddball last
role, a capitalist megalomaniac who pulls out all stops in going after Depp, an
East coast tinhorn who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was nearly
murdered by Mitchum’s son, who with one shot killed a young saloon girl and put
a bullet lodging next to Depp’s heart.
Depp, firing blindly, finally shoots the murderer and steals his horse
before escaping out of town where he awakes the next morning to a full-dressed
Indian (Gary Farmer) with a knife to his heart, scraping out what he could from
the bullet but claims the rest is too close to his heart, calling him a “dead
man.” When Farmer, who calls himself
Nobody, discovers Depp’s name is William Blake, he is overjoyed, as he’s
actually familiar with his art and poetry and joyfully nurses him back to
health. Most of the film is shot with
the two of them on horseback featuring mystical poetic musings from Nobody,
with hired guns following, cutthroats paid by Mitchum, who doesn’t care if Depp
is returned dead or alive, but he wants his stolen pinto pony returned. On the run, Depp and Farmer on horseback
attempt to elude the pursuers, eventually increasing to untold numbers as
wanted posters keep appearing out of nowhere bringing all number of wannabe’s
into of the forest for the reward money.
Nobody’s personal story is interesting, a parable for untold
Indian history which nearly nobody’s ever heard, but it contains horrific
truths about growing up Indian, in this case by a man who was rejected by both
the Indian and the white world, so he wanders alone as an outcast fending for
himself, pretty much despising or at least mistrusting both cultures, but
thoroughly assimilated into Indian lifestyle where he wears the clothes proudly
and finds white people ridiculously stupid.
As bounty hunters lurk ever closer, Depp is at first an astonishingly
poor shooter, but in time he becomes acclimated to the ways of the West, always
speak with a gun first and ignore the myths, the legends and the lore which are
outright lies most of the time, but if people have enough money to print enough
copies of the myths, people will start believing it. Much of the dialogue between the bounty
hunters is absurdly ridiculous, but that’s the point. Their very lives depend on the spreading of Western
lore, most all of it fabricated, which is how they were hired in the first
place, by reputation, and why they were employed to carry out a job under false
pretenses, spreading the word that Depp was a double murderer. As they wander through the forest, everyone’s
true nature is revealed.
Told through a series of vignettes, each fading out to
black, where the lone sound of the guitar rhythmically adds tone and coherence,
Farmer’s character takes on greater significance as he’s clearly the only one with
practical knowledge of how to survive, who constantly generates wisdom and
humor while Depp is passively subdued by his deteriorating health. As Depp was something of a blank piece of
paper when he entered the West, a novice, completely inexperienced, so Farmer
is the film, as he tells a story few are familiar with, using poetic references
from William Blake’s poems to offer insight into the human condition. Yet he’s also just a man, but he’s a good
man. As Farmer knows Depp is already
dead, with bad men following him who want to bring him to a bad end, both good
and evil are fighting for his soul where Farmer’s singular purpose seems to be
preparing Depp’s fate for the afterlife, whether he’ll get a dignified send-off
or die an ignominious death. The
indiscriminate shooting of buffalo out the train window and the shooting of
humans becomes a prominent theme, as every day added to Depp’s life is realized
only due to his sudden prowess in the use of a gun. As the sheer look of the forest in the film changes
from a gorgeous ride through the bleached out white of birch trees to the
immense grandeur of the enormous trees of the Pacific Northwest, Depp moves
ever closer to his fate. The final
sequence in the Indian village is nearly wordless, yet ponderous and ever so
real, using a reconstructed village of the Makah Indian Reservation from Neah Bay on the Olympic Peninsula, one of the
few tribes that exists in near exclusivity protected by the harsh rocky
landscape and the isolation of the ocean, whose Pacific coast totems,
sculpture, longhouse, and art designs profoundly add to the aesthetic. No explanation is needed to this near
wordless finale that demonstrates a complete lack of artifice and plays out
exclusively in mystical Indian imagery.