Texas has been in a lot of films. But I’ve rarely seen
my home states vastness properly reflected in works of cinema. Texas isn’t home
to just one type of back, it’s home to every backdrop! The closest I’ve seen a
film properly articulating this phenomenon is this scene from Bernie
breaking down how Texas can be divided into various sections. Another rare
reflection of the varied nature of Texas is Wim Wenders’ 1984 feature Paris,
Texas. The films screenplay, penned by L. M. Kit Carson and Sam Shepard, is
acutely aware that Texas is a place where sprawling deserts, run-down towns and
thriving cities can all be within a stone’s throw of one another.
It’s a uniquely Texan trait that serves as the
backdrop for the road trip story Paris, Texas, which begins with Travis Anderson
(Henry Dean Stanton) walking around West Texas. Where’s he going? Nowhere in particular.
He’s just wandering the landscape, silent and directionless. After collapsing in
a tavern, a doctor inspects Anderson, who isn’t speaking, and then calls up
Anderson’s brother, Walt (Dean Stockwell). It’s here we learn that Travis has been
missing for four years. Once Walt and Travis are reunited, Walt reveals to his
brother that he and his wife Anne (Aurora Clement) have adopted Travis’ son
Hunter (Hunter Anderson).
He may no longer be alone, but Travis is still struggling,
particularly in adjusting back into the life of his son. As we watch Travis
work his way back into reality, it becomes clear that Paris, Texas is
the story of a man and his difficult relationship with the past. The past is
everywhere in the life of Travis. Whether it’s reconnecting with the son he hasn’t
seen in so long, pining for his lost ex-wife or the fact that Travis bought a
plot of land in Paris, Texas simply because his parents first made love there. Travis
is enamored with the past, it defines him rather than any kind of ambitions for
the future. Maybe that’s why Travis just wandered in the desert for so long.
Why have any kind of direction when the past is blinding you?
Paris, Texas
lends such an empathetic lens to Travis and his plights. A scene depicting
Travis quietly breaking down into tears watching an old home video of himself,
his wife and Hunter just playing together heartbreakingly makes one understand
why Travis has become so fixated on his past. Even while we sympathize with
Travis, there’s a bittersweet quality to the scene knowing that Travis is
pining for something that can never be exactly like it once was. Everything
changes. It’s a part of life. To think the world of the past is the same as the
world of the present is a fool’s errand.
A similarly melancholy element is imbued into scenes
of Travis struggling to connect with his son, particularly a scene depicting
Hunter ignoring Travis when he wants to walk his child home from school. The
combination of such a bittersweet tone with the writing of Travis as a
character makes his journey one you can’t help but be captivated by. I was
especially impressed by how Paris, Texas uses the compelling nature of
Travis as a person to wring riveting drama out of intimate scenarios. Travis
and Hunter doing a look-out at a Houston, Texas bank to find Hunter’s mom is a
pretty low-key scenario in the grand scheme of the world. But Paris, Texas has
put us so firmly into the mindset of these two characters and how important
this is to them that it becomes thoroughly engrossing.
Any situation, big or small, can become something you
can’t turn your eyes away from so long as you’ve given it good grounding on a
character level. Paris, Texas does that to a tee. It’s similarly successful
in using the wide variety of landscapes scattered across Texas to ensure no
sense of visual repetition creeps into the road trip Travis engages on. Just on
a personal note, it’s so interesting to see distinctly Texas fixtures creep
into the background of the movie. Even if the characters and story of Paris,
Texas weren’t interesting, seeing how this movie makes such good use of
Texas as a backdrop would provide enough entertainment for me.
Of course, that’s not the only thing Paris, Texas
has to offer. There’s Wim Wenders’ delivering some truly exceptional blocking.
I especially love his intentionally crammed sense of spacing when he’s filming
scenes set in Walt’s Los Angeles home. There’s also the way the script delivers
so many emotional gut-punches throughout the movie, including in the fact that
Travis begins Paris, Texas seen but not heard and ends the movie heard
but not seen. Best of all in Paris, Texas, though, is its lead
performance, which functions as a showcase for the gifts of Harry Dean
Stanton as an actor.
Whether it’s Alien, Lucky, The Straight Story
or The Avengers, Harry Dean Stanton had the ability to waltz onto the
screen and immediately convey the sense
that his characters had lived through everything. Stanton could speak volumes about
a fictional character's life and all they’d endured just from their body language.
This means the role of Travis, which is entirely dialogue-free early on, is a
perfect vehicle for him. Under the direction of Wim Wenders, Stanton utilizes
his best traits as a performer while also solidifying Travis as his own idiosyncratic
creation. Texas has been in a lot of films, that’s for darn-tootin’ sure, but few
of them could compare to the outstanding quality of Paris, Texas.
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