Paris, Texas

Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas (1984) is a film that slowly unfurls its narrative, relying on the measured evolution of character, music, and image to carry it until the end of the film sweeps headlong into view. With characters avoiding talk of the past for so long, it is only logical that the film closes like a confessional. Yet even this metaphorical image is not quite exact enough, for wanderers remain wanderers, and little is offered to suggest that the film’s family reunion will continue past the scenes that demonstrate it.

A middle-aged and seemingly mute drifter Travis (Harry Dean Stanton) is found in the deserts of Texas. When his brother, Walt (Dean Stockwell), who hasn’t seen Travis in four years, is notified of the finding, he comes down from California to rescue his brother and help him return to normalcy. After some time, Travis opens up verbally and proves able to come back to California, where his son Hunter has been taken in by Walt and his wife. That the film doesn’t become overly sentimental in its gradual depictions of father and son bonding is a testament to the direction and Sam Shepard’s script underplaying family melodrama conventions.

Inevitably, Travis and his son set off in search of Travis’ wife and Hunter’s mother, who is somewhere in Houston, Texas. That they find her isn’t necessarily a shock, but the integrity and candor that Paris, Texas shows after she has been located is something beyond the genre. And so we arrive at the confessional scenes, which reveal untold depths of psychopathology to Travis, who we had previously thought of with fondness, and so the film rather brilliantly forces a reevaluation of everything we once believed. Suddenly a character who seemed romantic is revealed as narcissistic, and what’s interesting is that the final images of the film likewise reveal that this narcissism may still possess Travis, and that fleeing may be easier than any reconciliation.

Though the film roams, its poeticism and artistry is nonetheless reigned in by a narrative that is indeed substantial. All the roles are handled well, particularly Stanton as Travis, and the layers of character extend beyond any rigid sense of convention. This is a film that digs into you, asking you to consider the characters long after the film fades to black, and the experience is richer for that. Wenders’ road movie explores the human psyche and goes far beyond approximation. And paradoxically enough, given this review, the less one knows of Wenders’ film going into it, the better the journey of the film actually is.

Paris, Texas: 10/10