Film:
Paris, Texas
Format: Streaming video from Hulu+ on rockin’ flatscreen.
There is a dreamy quality to the work of Wim Wenders. In a film like
Der Himmel Uber Berlin, this quality is so evident as to not really need to be mentioned. With
Paris, Texas, it’s much less apparent, but it’s still there. This is a slow film—I’ve seen slower, but not many that are this methodically pleased with themselves to take a long time to get to the intent. For me, it’s a huge help that Harry Dean Stanton is front and center and on camera for the bulk of the film. Roger Ebert once penned the Stanton-Walsh rule, which states that with the exception of
Chattahoochee, no film that has M. Emmett Walsh or Harry Dean Stanton in a support role can be all bad.
Paris, Texas is an indicator that in Stanton’s case, he can include lead roles in that.
A man (Stanton) walks through the desert, and it’s somehow evident that he’s in or near Texas (although that might well be the name of the film). He finds a bar and collapses inside. We switch to Walt (Dean Stockwell), who is evidently the man’s brother. Walt, who lives in Los Angeles, flies down to Texas (see! I was right) to get his brother, who is named Travis, but the silent brother has disappeared. Walt tracks him down and tells him that he’d like to take him to Los Angeles. Eventually, Travis speaks. We learn that he has a child named Hunter (Hunter Carson, the son of one of the screenwriters) and that he refuses to fly, so instead they drive.
