Christopher Culver Jim Jarmusch's 2008 film THE LIMITS OF CONTROL concerns a nameless hit-man (Isaach De Bankole) as he prepares to carry out an assassination in Spain. It is not overtly stated that he is a professional, but his uncompromising posture, his unchanging expression and the omnipresent suitcase make it clear from the very first minutes of the film. Isaach De Bankole is perfect in this role, as he has a face that seems carved out of granite. The hit-man's few intimations of humanity are thus all the more shocking.As the film proceeds, the hit-man meets a series of individuals who send him onwards in his journey to pick up necessary equipment and finally confront his victim. These employees of his mysterious employer are left nameless, though often referred to by items they carry or other qualities: "Guitar" (John Hurt), "Blond" (Tilda Swinton), "Violin" (Luis Tosar), "Mexican" (Gael García Bernal), and "Molecules" (Youki Kudoh). In engaging the assassin in conversation to subtly convey their messages, they end up delivering eccentric monologues. Many critics lambasted these lines as so much metaphysical babble. In fact, everything said relates very directly to the plot, but this is the sort of film that demands a second viewing to really tie everything together, and those who fail to be intrigued enough on the first viewing to go on to a second may find this film a failure.Though Jarmusch alludes to America under the Bush administration at points, this is ultimately a psychological drama: the hit-man's task and contacts represent only parts of his own psyche. While some have tried to view this as a simple Freudian struggle between the id, ego, and superego, I feel that Jarmusch is aiming for something more subtle, something that he has great difficult putting into words and, even with his best efforts, this film can only hint at. THE LIMITS OF CONTROL feels like a cinematic analogue to the late albums of Scott Walker, where the songs' characters, cultural references and "plot" only serve to express some burning flame in the artist's own psyche.Jim Jarmusch has always stated that his aesthetic is to absorb everything he can from prior films (and books, music, etc.) and let those inspirations reflect in his own films. THE LIMITS OF CONTROL abounds with references to the film canon: Jean-Pierre Melville (namely "Le Samouraï"), Orson Welles ("The Lady from Shanghai"), Alfred Hitchcock, Aki Kaurismäki ("Le Vie de Bohème"), Alejandro Jodorowsky (that auteur's entire trippy aesthetic), and probably more that I just didn't recognize.The film's lack of conventional interaction between characters and the compilation of references ultimately makes THE LIMITS OF CONTROL feel relatively cold and lifeless compared to Jarmusch's many other films. Still, the visuals of the film make it a worthwhile experience in spite of its flaws. With Christopher Doyle, funny enough, working the camera, we get a number of beautifully composed shots that will prove memorable.

broggoethe I've seen a lot of movies and this one will rate at the bottom. Just in the past 3 weeks I've seen 4 Jarmusch films, after I saw Dean Man. My fellow reviewers obviously saw something I didn't. NOTHING happens! I love film noir, this isn't. This is........nothing really. See Dead Man for sure, Broken Flowers yes, Stranger than Paradise was....interesting, Down by Law was.....OK.Ghost Dog was interesting as well, all of these movies are WAY off the beaten track but that's fine, these are the movies I gravitate toward. Coffee and Cigarettes is next on my list, I will not let Limits of Control deter me.

thomasshahbaz 1. The most hilarious gag I've seen in a film in ages (delivered by Tilda Swinton). Won't bother going on about it as others already have, but the film's first 20 or 30 mins are almost just building to the delivery of that line and the subsequent 45 secs.2. The exquisite juxtaposition of the achingly controlled practicing Flamenco artists (in particular the dancer) and the first crack of a loss of the main protagonist's control to the inevitable emotions provoked by what he's witnessing (there are many overwhelmingly beautiful "set-ups" thrown in his face, to which he has thusfar not reacted). This scene should have film students and buffs jizzing in their pants, and if it doesn't, they should think again! If you don't like Jim Jarmusch, then don't bother. If you do, watch it. Simple.

bluewanders I'll start off by telling you what is great about this film. The cinematography and the use of color are absolutely gorgeous in this film. That's it.Truth told, this movie should be filed as a documentary under landscapes, paintings, and Spanish guitar riffs. That's the bulk of the movie.It begins with the words "life is dirt" and from that stark and empty statement is born a movie you will love to look at but it has no substance. --beginning of spoiler--Allow me to save you some trouble, you really only need to watch the first 20 minutes or so of the movie. Here is how it goes... the main character orders 2 espressos in separate cups from some random source and sits down to stare at a wall or a tree for a few minutes while only drinking one of them... apparently the other is just there for symmetry. Then a super secret but incredibly suspicious and conspicuous person approaches him to have a shallow one sided conversation at him about the nature of life and art (nearly breaking the 4th wall at times in cheeky and pretentious ways to convert the conversation into a still life commenting on the creation of art itself) while he stares blankly in their general direction. Afterwards they exchange a coded message in a matchbox with him and walk away in slow motion while a Spanish fellow strums throatily on his guitar and pretends to be significant. Then the main character eats the coded message, stares at something for a while, usually a single painting, and begins some method of transportation where you will enjoy watching the landscape flash by and more throaty guitar riffs for minutes on end. The cycle will repeat itself a few times. Bang. Mysterious and artsy movie over.-- end of spoiler--You'll experience a few oblique moments of political symbolism leaning toward anarchism and a few aha moments when you realize that there is more of the plot in the visual narrative than anywhere else (it certainly wasn't in the cliché dialog or posturing)... but the director utterly fails to use the film as a springboard to say anything worth the 2 hour wait for it to finish. In the end... this artist is doing nothing more than providing you an opportunity to talk to yourself and I'm sure Andy Warhols skull near the end is laughing at us all.Tomorrow night I plan to watch a TV dinner rotate in my microwave while I comment on its use of color and framing. I have a feeling it won't be anywhere near as lovely to look at, but will be just as significant and more filling.