Marvin, the Scene Stealer This weekend I traveled cinematographically all the way to the town of Paterson, NJ. In Jim Jarmusch’s new film, bus driver Paterson (Adam Rider) takes us on his daily tour of the city while he picks up passengers and delivers them to their destinations. But to us he delivers something much different—a quiet celebration of life. Paterson spends his time enjoying simple pleasures: a job well done, a glass of beer with friends, an evening with his wife (Golshifteh Farahani). But he is no ordinary bus driver. He is also a poet, and every day he records his thoughts in ways that reflect wonder. He may see the same waterfall every day, but inside it he finds the beauty of the universe.
Halfway through the movie, my friend asked if anything were going to happen. It was a valid question. In Paterson nothing happens—and everything happens. Bus driver Paterson shows us a whole world by taking us inside his. He muses on William Carlos Williams, the influential doctor-poet who was from the area. He walks an unfriendly dog. He indulges his idea-rich wife. Throughout, Paterson retains quiet dignity. While his supervisor has new complaints every day, Paterson accepts his life and embraces it. He recognizes that every single moment is worthy of observation.
Halfway through the movie, my friend asked if anything were going to happen. It was a valid question. In Paterson nothing happens—and everything happens. Bus driver Paterson shows us a whole world by taking us inside his. He muses on William Carlos Williams, the influential doctor-poet who was from the area. He walks an unfriendly dog. He indulges his idea-rich wife. Throughout, Paterson retains quiet dignity. While his supervisor has new complaints every day, Paterson accepts his life and embraces it. He recognizes that every single moment is worthy of observation.
Best Bus Driver Ever
Paterson is a writer’s movie. It celebrates those of us who are never far from a notebook, who consider pen and paper to be primordial daily gear. We might not be able to explain why we must stop everything and record our thoughts. We might never even want to share them. But somehow, no matter where we are, we live through our words. They come to us unbidden yet vibrant. They tap us on the shoulder demanding to be captured, demanding to be recognized.
Like Paterson, we obey.
Like Paterson, we obey.
What did you say that pie was made from?
What are your own Paterson moments? What makes you get out your notebook and start to write?
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