Mystery Train
Directed by: Jim Jarmusch
Written by: Jim Jarmusch
Starring: Masatoshi Nagase, Youki Kudoh, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, Joe Strummer, Steve Buscemi, Tom Noonan

Everybody has their list of important or great films that for one reason or another they’ve yet to see. Jim Jarmusch’s triptych anthology Mystery Train had eluded me all of these years, but thanks to a fancy Criterion blu ray release, I finally had the chance to check it out. Not unlike Jarmusch’s other films, it’s a cool, clever and funny piece of classic indie filmmaking that sheds an outsider’s light on the cultural significance of Memphis and all of the unusual characters who live there.

The film is broken into three separate stories. The first, titled ‘Far From Yokohama’, finds a young Japanese couple stepping off a train in Memphis with only a red suitcase between them. I had read somewhere that Jarmusch thought of this idea as a sort of twist on the idea of tourists that travel to other countries to visit ancient remnants of long lost civilizations. When the American empire eventually collapses, he figures the important monuments left behind will be that of “rock’n’roll stars and movie stars”; in this case, Sun Records and Graceland. “That’s all our culture ultimately represents. So going to Memphis is a kind of pilgrimage to the birthplace of a certain part of our culture.” As the couple attempts to navigate the run down streets of Memphis, they eventually take part in a hilariously mundane tour of Sun Records; a scene which reminded me of the Alamo tour in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure. Once the disappointment wears off, they check themselves in to a cruddy hotel run by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and Cinque Lee (who also took part in a Coffee and Cigarettes segment while filming Mystery Train). This hotel works as the main connective tissue between the three narratives in the film.

The second story, ‘A Ghost’, finds a young Italian widow trapped in Memphis as she attempts to fly the body of her deceased husband back to Italy. After a run in with a typically creepy Tom Noonan, she also finds herself sharing a room with a stranger named Dee Dee — who’s husband just left her — at the very same hotel. Finally, ‘Lost in Space’ follows the story of Johnny (played by The Clash’s Joe Strummer), who happens to be Dee Dee’s previously mentioned disillusioned husband. All of these stories play out in back to back with a couple of re-ocurring connective moments (a gun shot, Tom Waits as a radio DJ playing Blue Moon) which result in an effective multi-layered story that might seem fairly rudimentary now-a-days but certainly laid the groundwork for Jarmusch’s future filmography.

Although Mystery Train is for the most part pretty timeless (I really can’t believe it was shot in 89), there’s just something about it that embodies independent filmmaking of the early nineties. Maybe it’s the use of a multiple stories over intercrossing narratives or the fact that it just exudes a coolness that would be made popular by Tarantino’s films only a few years later. One thing I love about Jarmusch’s films are the side characters. He always has these great, quirky folks on the peripheral of the story and manages to spend some screen time allowing them to hang out on camera for a moment or two. In this case, it’s Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and Cinque Lee as the hotel owner and bellboy. Their little moments of unrelated bickering are some of the best stuff in the film. It’s interesting how Jarmusch always casts these cultural icons — usually musicians — and somehow makes them work. While Screamin’ Jay Hawkins settled into his role with ease, the inclusion of Joe Strummer as Johnny is a bold choice. I don’t think Strummer’s performance could be considered great (especially working alongside Steve Buscemi and Rick Aviles), but it’s definitely an inspired piece of casting that succeeds more due to the relevance of Strummer as a cultural icon rather than his skills as an actor.

Criterion presents Mystery Train in its original 1.77:1 aspect ratio with a new high definition transfer supervised by Jim Jarmusch. The bright colours of Robby Mullers cinematography — especially the scattered reds — really pop with this presentation. Muller’s previous work with Wim Wenders (particularly his use of colour in Paris, Texas) lends itself to the Memphis landscapes and turns out to be a perfect match for Jarmusch’s first colour film. As for special features, any fan of Jim Jarmusch knows he doesn’t do commentary tracks. Instead, Criterion will usually provide an audio only feature in which Jarmusch answers questions sent in by fans via email (or twitter?). The result is always entertaining and informative. Other then that, there’s an excerpt from a 2001 documentary on Screamin’ Jay Hawkins called ‘I Put a Spell on Me’, an original documentary on the film’s shooting locations and a collection of on-set photographs. Not the best collection of extras, but still solid. It all adds up to another great release of a film that definitely played a role in the early development of the indie boom of the 90’s. It’s great to see Jarmusch is still making the films he wants to make and has managed to create a consistently great body of work all of these years later.

SCORE: