R | 2h 25m | Drama | 1984
From classic Golden Age movies, to foreign films, to modern flicks, I count several westerns at the top of my list of all-time favorite films.
When I heard about German director Wim Wenders’ western road movie, “Paris, Texas,” I was immediately intrigued. It’s one of the rare instances where we see a foreigner’s perspective of the western, something that Sergio Leoni famously did to great effect with his Spaghetti westerns in the 1960s and 1970s.
Wender’s film was truly international, with Italian, Spanish, American, and West German production companies, cast, and crews. “Paris, Texas” was produced by both West German and French production companies, hence its clever title (although Paris, Texas is a very real place). It benefits not only from Wenders’ directing, but also a top-shelf cast including Harry Dean Stanton, Dean Stockwell, and Nastassja Kinski.
In a nod to classic westerns, Wenders opts for the classic wandering stranger opening, as we see a lone man named Travis Henderson (Stanton) walking through the dust-choked environs of west Texas. His face is sun-damaged and his clothes are in tatters, but he marches ceaselessly over the parched desert earth.
Travis steps into an isolated, dilapidated store and after desperately gobbling up some ice cubes, he passes out from heat exhaustion. He wakes up in a local doctor’s office in Terlingua, Texas. The physician, Dr. Ulmer (Bernhard Wicki), finds a card belonging to Travis’s brother, Walt (Dean Stockwell), and contacts him, as Travis does not say a word.
As the two brothers gradually find common ground to re-establish their relationship, Walt helps Travis to reconnect with his former life, including his young son Hunter (Hunter Carson) and estranged wife, Jane (Kinski). The process of reuniting with his family is fraught with emotional turbulence. Travis and Hunter tentatively rebuild their father-son bond, and Travis confronts the painful memories that drove him away.
Beautiful Film Making
As Travis is drawn back into Jane’s life, the film avoids the needlessly sappy exchanges common in many husband-wife reunion dramas. Stanton and Kinski let subtle cues from their faces and body language convey as much emotion as their touching, realistic dialogue.
Viewers are treated to subtly affecting shots of the rugged Southwestern landscape aglow with sunlight. The landscape showcases seedy motels, old-time gas stations, and everyday people trying to eke out a living. Green and brown pastures stretch as far as the eye can see. The film also features stunning long shots of the sun dipping into the characteristically flat Texas horizon, casting violet and red hues as evening approaches, enhancing the film’s atmospheric beauty.
As the film slowly develops, Wenders slows the action and focuses on the setting of the West. He frequently pulls back to let viewers fully absorb the meticulously crafted visual landscapes. This approach allows audiences to become more immersed in the setting, making it integral to the story. Such visual poetry isn’t easy to execute and reflects mature, confident filmmaking.
Wenders’s lens offers a fresh perspective on the American landscape and its people, revealing aspects that might otherwise go unnoticed or unappreciated by American viewers.
“Paris, Texas” excels with its outstanding cinematography, memorable score, and understated performances. Everything comes together to create a powerful and moving drama about love, loss, and eventual redemption.
The film’s ability to convey deep emotional truths through its visuals and performances makes it a remarkable example of thoughtful and introspective cinema.
