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Johnny Depp is a Dead Man
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When Dead Man opened it was met with scathing reviews by many critics, including Roger Ebert, who complained that the director Jim Jarmusch was “trying to get at something here, and I don’t have a clue what it is” (RogerEbert.com). He was turned off by its slow-moving pace and the abstract score done entirely by Neil Young. I can understand his position; although I loved the movie the first time I saw it, I also realized that I didn’t understand what it was trying to say, if anything. But Dead Man is the kind of movie that, though it appeals to your heart and your senses, begins to reveal its meaning after multiple viewings. Every time I watch it, I love it and understand it more.
First things first: Dead Man is set in the 19th Century. In beautiful black and white photography, it follows a recently orphaned accountant from Cleveland named William Blake—not to be confused with the English poet of the same name. Blake, played by Johnny Depp, has spent all his money to get to the western frontier town of Machine, where he has a job waiting for him at Dickinson’s Metal Works. He arrives to find that his position has already been filled, and that the owner, Mr. Dickinson, is not someone with whom he can peacefully negotiate.
Thrust unemployed and broke into the “wild” environment of Machine, Blake is a blatant outsider. He encounters hostility from its inhabitants and eventually spends the little money he has on a bottle of whiskey. He meets a woman named Thel and ends up spending the night with her. Thel’s lover, who also happens to be Dickinson’s son, returns home and stumbles upon this love affair. Heartbroken, he fires his gun, killing Thel and wounding Blake, who fires back and escapes on the man’s horse.
Photo courtesy of Amazon.com
The next day, Blake finds himself being tended to by a Native American who calls himself Nobody. Nobody is a kind, spiritual, and altogether odd man who has more than just a gripe with the “stupid f**king white man,” yet he takes care of Blake, who he believes is the reincarnated spirit of the English poet of his namesake. Because of this, and the fact that he fails to remove the bullet residing in Blake’s chest, he declares that Blake is already a dead man, and that he must find his way back to the spiritual world. Nobody feels deeply connected to the historical Blake’s poetry, which seems to speak to the Native American cause; poet William Blake was a man who abhorred racism and inequality.
Meanwhile, Dickinson hires professional killers to track his son’s murderer while also putting a bounty on his head, leading to many dangerous encounters along the journey.
Nobody tells Blake, who, holding a revolver, claims to know nothing about poetry:
“That weapon will replace your tongue. You will learn to speak through it. And your poetry will be written with blood.”
He guides Blake as Blake comes to terms with his destiny and slowly becomes a legendary killer of white men, all of whom are after him for the reward on his head.
It is natural to assume, like Roger Ebert, that such an unusual plot has a satirical agenda. I would argue that the film captures the ugly nature of American capitalism and white supremacy, mocks the cruel nature of organized religion and other accepted paradigms, and reinvents the traditional western genre. But director Jim Jarmusch is a constant presence in the film and his humor and poetic rhythm as a director make it moving and never preachy.
To reveal the complicated “plot” of the film is to merely scratch the surface of this film’s brilliance. It is slow and methodical in the beginning, but builds to a mythical climax, and it is captivating throughout. One need not struggle to find meaning in the film, but only open one’s mind to the feelings and images in the movie as it plays. I believe this film, like any great work of art, will not affect everybody in the same way. And though I praise this film’s artistry, it would be a mistake to think it’s some old, boring and pretentious art-house bull. It also has all the essential elements of great entertainment: it’s funny, violent, and, at least for Neil Young fans, it’s got a kick-ass soundtrack.
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