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The DEAD MAN Society
"The wild deer wandring here & there Keeps the Human Soul from Care " --William Blake |
For me, the old spaghetti western holds no appeal whatsoever. Yet here I am, writing a review of what most people would call a western movie. Most people, however, have never seen Dead Man and would so name this film no differently if they were to look at the cover alone. As the old adage says, never judge a book by its cover. Because I deeply admire the work of Johnny Depp, I rented this movie and sat down to watch, fully prepared to be bored out of my mind. I learned the adage lesson well! This is no western, except for the setting and props. This movie touched a core of spirituality deep within me, a core I hardly ever discuss with anyone because (s)he would believe me to be touched in the head. This movie literally explores life and death, giving to each a beauty all its own, while, at the same time, blending the two into a homogenous whole, marking nature as the amoral entity it really is! I shall endeavor to explain the metaphors and imagery as I take a walk with a Dead Man.
(Please note, gentle reader, the following analysis is solely my own interpretation of this film and should not be taken as a way of life or belief for anyone. I encourage all readers to explore their own beliefs and religious leanings independent of outside influences.)
The movie begins with the western journey of one William Blake, a young accountant from Cleveland, Ohio. Blake is a quiet man, not prone to active conversation with his fellow passengers. Indeed, he seems somewhat frightened of the people who share his car. Right away, the viewer notices multiple images of life fading away, and death taking its place. As Blake watches out the window of the moving train, life itself appears to be passing by swiftly. He watches virgin forests give way to barren, dry, desolate plains and deserts. The plant life falls into desiccated caricatures of trees and shrubbery. Sun-baked skeletons of dead animals cover the terrain. Blake becomes uneasy as he views these depressing landscapes. Even the travelers begin to age during the trip. Nearer Cleveland, they are young, vigorous people with nice clothes, neat appearances, quiet children, and an exuberance that Blake himself seems to lack. As the train draws across the plains, the people become older, scruffier, and less hygienic; their clothing turns from fabrics to leathers and fur-trimmed vests. All their energy has dried up, leaving them with only the shells of their youths and dreams.
Blake attempts to take his mind off the images presented by playing cards and reading. Yet, here again, the metaphors of life are prevalent. Though one can, and most do, cheat at solitaire, card games of all types are games of chance, a gamble on which card will fall where. Blake reads a book on bees, another dichotomic metaphor where the bees represent the sting of death and the honey they produce the sweetness of life. As Blake nears the town of Machine (more on this later), civilized behavior gives way to barbaric attitudes and actions. Guns and liquor show up with various passengers, most of whom are slovenly and filled with disdain for the shiny young man in their midst. Finally, Blake clutches his valise as his only protection and shield against the wild men around him. His eyes are wide with fear and apprehension, wondering what he will see next.
Until now, no one has spoken to Blake, but a man enters the car and makes his way to the seat directly before Blake. He tells Blake to “look out the window.” This man looks and acts strangely, discussing boats and water, worming his way into Blake's life with all the smoothness of a viper. Indeed, Blake sits stiff and still as if expecting this man to strike at him. Through this man's strange conversation, the viewer learns several key details about William Blake: his parents recently passed away, his fiancée broke off the marriage and left him for someone else, he is an accountant on his way to a new job in Machine, he is idealistic if somber, believing in a letter of acceptance over the reality of his situation. He tells the man the job is in Machine with Dickinson's Metalworks, handing over the letter as proof of his story. In return, Blake receives some disquieting comments: Machine is the end of the line and Blake is headed for hell, Blake should not trust words on a piece of paper from Dickinson in the town of Machine, and Blake may find his own grave instead of the new life he is idealistically expecting. Suddenly, the older men begin shooting their guns out of the train windows, causing Blake to jump then duck as if to avoid bullets. The strange man tells Blake they are shooting buffalo, and the buffalo are now close to extinction due to the number of buffalo killed the previous year.
This whole section begs a couple of questions. Who is the strange man, and what is his purpose for Blake? And what is Blake's condition at this point in his journey? First, the man. From this author's perspective, this man is the equivalent of the Angel of Death. He seems to know more about Blake than he should; for example, it is he who tells Blake that Blake's fiancée found someone else. He also knows Blake is headed for trouble and gives him solid advice about trusting reality rather than paper. Yet, he also warns Blake about an early death and appears convincing enough to worry Blake into quiet hysteria. Legend says the Angel of Death appears only to those whose time has come, appearing to that person only and being invisible to surrounding people. This is the case on the train. No one notices or pays attention to the strange man except Blake. One could say that the passengers know the man and ignore him as just a worker. But this seems unlikely, as passengers of the period would not have the money to make frequent trips by train. His entire discourse about buffalo illustrates the violent annihilation of life, violence that Blake is moving toward.
And what about Blake himself? On the surface, young, pristine, idealistic, and firmly convinced that he is assured of a job and a new life. Yet beneath the surface lurks a different picture altogether. Blake is emotionally and spiritually dead. His parents have died, his girlfriend is gone, and he appears to have no other relatives. He clings to rationale and logic, believing he can overcome all the sadness in life by ordering the world into a nice, neat package sealed with Dickinson's letter. This is what is wrong with Blake at the start of the film. While other young people seem excited and exuberant, Blake is bland and somber. He almost literally has no personality, alternating between fear and outward calm. William Blake is dead….all that remains is the physical body bearing a barren soul.
William Blake arrives in Machine, a town as devoid of life as one can be and still have moving bodies and active businesses. The town is literally a machine, chugging along, groaning and belching, using its people as cogs in a turning wheel of despondency and despair. After all, where does one go when one has reached the end of the line? Machine could be considered hell or merely the end of Blake's short life. As he wanders through the town toward Dickinson's business, he sees all manner of images that shock and dismay him: decaying skulls stacked along walls, a coffin-making business, a woman with a child, neither of whom make a sound, loose animals running around urinating and defecating, even a woman providing a physical service for a man in open view (which causes the greatest amount of shock to Blake and almost occasions his first bullet). Yet, he is determined and finds his way to the business mentioned in his letter of acceptance.
Once inside, he resolutely makes his way to the office and presents himself as the new accountant, again showing his letter of acceptance as if that is all that is needed. The manager informs him another man has filled the position, and he is free to go. Now, the viewer learns just how destitute Blake really is, as he has spent all of his money to come to Machine, implying he has no money to return. When he realizes the manager will not listens, he demands to see Dickinson, a request that brings a burst of mocking laughter from all the men in the office. The manager tells him, “You don't want to do that,” but Blake insists and enters Dickinson's inner office, firmly believing that he will resolve this “mistake” with logic and rationale. Instead, he finds a man with a rifle pointed at him, one who ridicules his clothes and refuses to listen to any logic whatsoever. Dickinson informs Blake that, “the only job you'll have around here is pushing up daisies from a pine box. Now, get out!” Defeated, despondent, and depressed, Blake quickly grabs his valise and exits the business.
Blake wanders the street until he locates the saloon. He has little money and no job prospects. His perfect world fell at the onslaught of laughter and ridicule. Taking what little money he does have, he buys a bottle of liquor and sits down to contemplate his situation. He encounters Thel Russell, a young woman of questionable morals. What else does he have to lose? One must assume that young Blake is no virgin, for he quickly recognizes the invitation offered by Thel and takes it. After their tryst, Thel asks if he has any tobacco. He responds with, “I don't smoke.” Tobacco takes on a new meaning in this film. Everyone wants tobacco, and they are ready to barter, beg, borrow, or steal to get it. And what is the one thing that William Blake lacks? Faith! Not necessarily religious faith, just faith in anything at all. His world has collapsed, and he believes in nothing anymore. So, one can assume the question of tobacco is one of faith or belief. He asks Thel why she has a gun. Thel may be of questionable virtue, but she is a smart girl. A gun for protection, and she quickly realizes that Blake has no skill with a gun, so she removes it from his hand.
One must wonder just what Thel Russell would have done for Blake, but Charlie Dickinson interrupts them. There is a brief, somewhat poignant, moment between Thel and Charlie (they have a history), but Thel tells Charlie that she never really loved him, prompting Charlie to draw his gun to shoot her, Blake, or both. Thel throws herself in front of Blake and takes a bullet through the chest. As she falls over Blake, he fumbles for the gun, points it and fires three times, the last bullet striking Charlie in the neck, killing him. Blake winces and glances at his own chest. The bullet meant for Thel passed through her and entered Blake. After ascertaining Thel to be dead, Blake panics, jumps up from the bed, grabs his clothes, and exits through Thel's window and falls to the ground below. He steals Charlie's horse and rides off into the night. This is Blake's first killing, and, in all honesty, done in self defense as Charlie would have shot him next to prevent him from telling others that Charlie murdered Thel. Blake's physical body is now dying of a bullet wound, ably assisted by Blake's mad dash out of town. In trying to escape from death, Blake ran headlong into it. Now his journey takes on a new meaning. It has become a race from death toward death.
The film takes an interesting turn in keeping with a wounded man on the run. Blake keeps losing consciousness and waking again to find himself in new surroundings or circumstances. As already stated, Blake is emotionally and spiritually dead. Now his body is racing to catch up with the spirit. The fade-in and fade-out sequences could represent either Blake's refusal to accept reality or the spirit fighting to leave an unkind host. When he awakens the first time, he sees an Indian over him causing him pain. The Indian is trying to remove the bullet, but it is too deep. The Indian asks him, “Do you have any tobacco?” Blake replies, “I don't smoke.” The question of faith now enters a new realm, the realm of the Native American Indian.
Native Americans have long held belief in the spirits of nature and have learned to listen to the sounds of nature to learn more about themselves and their people. Even though Blake is a “stupid white man,” the Indian cares for him the best he can with tribal remedies. But the Indian knows Blake will not live long, and he asks Blake, “Did you kill the white man who killed you?” Blake replies, “I'm not dead,” signifying his refusal to accept death, probably due to all the horrible images he has seen since coming west. He thinks now he is literally in hell and doesn't know what to do.
The Indian, upon learning Blake's name, makes the assumption that Blake is the British poet and is happy to help him on his journey. The Indian calls himself Nobody, a name he claims because his people refused to listen to his adventures. But this author sees him as the antithesis of the Angel of Death, the Angel of Mercy. He leads Blake through the wilderness, showing him all the images of death amongst life, but Blake stubbornly clings to his logic and turns a blind eye to the teachings of Nobody, telling him, “I'm tired of all this Indian malarkey. I don't understand a single word you've said…not one.” To which Nobody calmly tells him, “The eagle never lost so much as when he submitted to learn from the crow.” The eagle flies higher than the crow and sees more. It would be against its nature to follow birds that fly lower. He is trying to tell Blake that learning the white man's ways are not for him, and it would be against his nature to turn white just for Blake. Nobody is the eagle, encouraging Blake, the crow, to spread his wings and fly higher, not lower.
A word must be written about the three bounty hunters that are tracking Blake. The young black boy represents Blake's stolen youth and vitality. The older chatterbox represents his social skills, stunted from the death of his parents and the loss of his fiancée. But it is Cole Wilson who carries the largest metaphor here. He is the relentless passage of time, the enemy of youth and beauty, one who will not be stopped or detoured. He swallowed the youth and silenced the chatterbox. He is the darker side of the beauty of nature, having no conscience and killing with complete impartiality. Cole is never more than a day or so behind Blake. Time stops for no man, and Cole Wilson never stops looking for William Blake!
In the meantime, Blake learns Nobody's story of capture, exhibition, and journey home. He is forming a bond with Nobody, having realized that they were both ridiculed and “killed” by their own people. When they encounter the three men around the campfire, Nobody sends Blake to talk to them, telling him it is a test. Blake must let go of logic and rationale and face death head-on again, as that is the very essence of life, the challenge of death. The viewer sees the beginnings of acceptance in Blake, as he says, “I'll go. I don't like it, but I'll go.” Blake pleads hunger as an excuse for stumbling into camp (and he is hungry), but he is unprepared for the different lifestyle these men lead. When they threaten to kill Blake, Nobody slips behind one and cuts his throat. Blake grabs his gun and shoots the second man, in defense of Nobody. The third falls prey to a stray bullet from a rifle in Nobody's hands.
They ride on and find, nailed to a tree, a bounty notice on Blake. Blake decries the notice, as he did not kill Thel Russell. Nobody tells him that his actions are worthless and will not stop the white man from hunting him. Blake is not listening with instinct; he is reacting with rationale. Nobody knows that rationale will be useless, and asks Blake, “Are you sure you have no tobacco?” Blake rebounds with “I've told you I don't smoke. If I don't smoke, it's a good bet that I have no tobacco.” In effect, he says he has no faith. Nobody simply smiles and rides on, leaving Blake to overcome his anger and follow.
Blake's outburst tired him greatly, and he rests against a tree, while Nobody begins an Indian ritual designed to ask assistance from the spirit of the fire. Nobody can clearly see death stalking Blake, as symbolized by the skeleton face superimposed over Blake's own face. Nobody marks this face of death (Blake) with lightning bolts on both cheeks, symbolizing the swiftness with which death strikes. Blake does not understand why Nobody does this, nor does he think to ask. He trusts Nobody to take care of him. As Blake grows weaker with hunger and exhaustion, Nobody tells him point blank that he must prepare for a journey, the journey toward death, not away from it. Native Americans believe that spiritual enlightenment comes swifter if the body is weak. They fast for days before certain rituals to ensure the body is receptive to the voices of the spirits. Blake must do this alone. Nobody takes Blake's eyeglasses, suggesting that, “he may see better without them.” When Blake falls asleep, Nobody leaves, removing himself and the eyeglasses, thereby forcing Blake to look fully at nature, in all its majesty and ferocity, with no masks or people to hide behind.
Upon awakening, Blake is terrified. He has no guide, no food, and he is all alone! As he relieves himself, he notices the tree before him. He looks as if this is the first time he has truly seen a tree up close and personal. It is a living thing, seemingly dead but imbued with its own spirit. Life still clings to it in the form of moss. With this lesson in his mind, he returns to camp to find two law officials awaiting him. He is calm, deadly calm. He kills both men, believing that, if he must be hunted for murder, he may as well commit the crime. Without realizing it, he is becoming as amoral as the nature surrounding him. Leading the horses, he begins his exploration of nature and his spiritual quest. He has no strength to hunt and no skill to cook food, so his hunger grows within him, creating a trance where he relives the last few days. He thinks he sees Indians in the trees around him and quickly grabs his gun. But there are no Indians. What he saw was the tree spirits who were listening to him and lending him strength for his quest. Blake begins to understand what Nobody was saying. Previously, he paid no heed to the sounds of the forest. Now, all the sounds of Nature grow in volume, and he hears each distinct sound and learns its origin: crickets, birds, wind among the trees, animals scuffling around the forest, limbs falling to the ground. He hears them all.
The next day he finds a fawn dead on the ground. He leans down, touches the blood, and knows it to be a fresh kill. Yet he has no concerns for the hunter of this animal. He remembers Nobody's tale of the young elk that surrendered his life that Nobody might become a hunter. Blake knows now that death has no regard for age or size. When it is time, it is time. He lies beside the fawn, feeling its life ebbing away along with his own. The peaceful feeling of the fawn's death helps prepare Blake to accept death when his time arrives. The lightning bolts on his face fade as his physical life fades. Blake notices the tall trees around him. Though the ground may hold death, life itself will continue. And so Blake continues his journey.
Blake interrupts a romantic moment between Nobody and a young Indian woman, but he is overjoyed to find Nobody again. They camp together again. The next morning a curious conversation takes place, revealing Blake's growing faith in the ideology of the Indians and his now firm friendship with Nobody.
“Did you still have my glasses?”
“No. I traded them. Do you have any tobacco?”
“I traded it”
“For what?”
“I'm not telling.”
“Liar.”
“Thief.”
The words have no negative connotations whatsoever. Blake has accepted the lessons given him, and Nobody knows Blake is ready to move toward his dying place. Nobody mentions the mirror of waters where Blake will move on to the next level of the earth. When Blake admits to killing a white man and taking his rifle, Nobody knows that Blake has finally accepted his fate and immediately decides to change the pace of the journey by taking to the swifter moving waters of the river. Blake is fading quickly, and Nobody must get him to the mirror of waters. They come to a store by the river that rents canoes. More bounty notices adorn the outside walls, and Blake gives one of them to Nobody with a slight smile. Inside, the viewer is treated to a historically accurate scene of the treatment that Indians received from the white man, except this is a priest, one who should know better. The priest recognizes Blake and tries to kill him. But Blake kills the priest instead. Blake has fully accepted the Native American ideology and has no problem with killing the Christian God; a God he feels deserted him and left him to die alone. As he waits for Nobody to release the horses and return, Blake takes a second bullet through the shoulder. He accepts this with no complaint or requests for help, knowing his journey is moving quickly towards its end. He feels sadness for leaving the Pinto horse behind, yet feels no sadness for the murdered men behind him.
Once on the river, Blake asks, “Is this the boat for the mirror of waters?” Nobody replies, “No. This boat is not strong enough for that journey.” Asking about the boat symbolizes the total communication he shares with Nobody and with Nature; a complete acceptance of what IS, needing no rational or logical explanation.
At the Indian village of big water canoe makers, Nobody helps Blake walk through the village. The Indians do not seem surprised to see Blake. They merely accept that he is here, he is dying, and he is in need of a canoe. Blake has made it! Nobody tells him to “Walk proudly, William Blake!” Even in his weakened state, Blake takes in all around him: the people, the crafts, the homes, the deaths. He sees all nationalities of people: white, Chinese, Indian, Mexican, Russian, men, women, children. All people are a part of nature and, as such, are to be accepted as part of the never-ending cycle.
Here the death boat is built. Blake is cleaned and clothed as an Indian. Nobody gently places him in the boat and lines it with cedar boughs. Blake has little to say because he now understands all that Nobody taught him. Death surrounds life as life surrounds death. When one accepts the inevitability of death, it ceases to be terrifying and becomes beautiful! Blake no longer cares if he is killed or dies. He is ready. He carries on his chest a small picture of Nobody beside two symbols of whales, creatures of the large waters. He tells Nobody, “I found some tobacco,” and Nobody replies, “The tobacco is for your journey.” Blake has found faith in nature and will carry that faith with him when he finally dies. Blake has one final glimpse of life. Cole Wilson steps onto the beach from which Blake is sailing. Cole and Nobody kill each other on the beach. Blake reveals a tiny bit of shock, then acceptance takes over and he sails on into death's arms. Time (Cole) ends, and Nobody dies. Blake sees the unending sky, hears the sounds of the waves, closes his eyes, and dies peacefully.
I mentioned before the core of my own belief and how this movie stirred me. I thought, at first viewing, this would be an odyssey for William Blake. But it cannot be, for the definition of odyssey implies a newer and better life for having overcome obstacles. Blake, indeed, overcomes a great deal emotionally and spiritually, but his life ends. I also thought the movie may be exploring the possibilities of reincarnation, but no real evidence surfaces for this theory.
So, I bought the movie and proceeded to watch it closely to see just what it was saying to me. And I found more than I thought possible!
1) First and foremost, the presentation of life and death. This is a bleak film and can become depressing if viewed from a pessimistic viewpoint. Yet the closer and multiple viewings reveal tiny clues. Every image of death has its counterpart of life. Deserts, dry and dusty, still bear shrubs and cacti, tall, denuded trees reveal life in their height alone, people, though sad or despondent, still keep moving, etc. I could list more, but I advise watching. I found the blending of life and death into a homogenous circle to be the resounding message here. And I can understand why this film is/was not viewed more in the public eye. Just as stories of life after death are not aired very often, the networks, for a long time, silenced this film. Both types of stories make death a beautiful transition rather than something to be feared. Depressed or suicidal people may take this to mean that the taking of life, even one's own, will guarantee a beautiful transition. I find this to be a disturbing viewpoint. Dead Man is NOT about this! It's about the beauty, ferocity, and total impartiality of nature and its cycles. Life and death are a part of that cycle, each feeding off the other, continually recreating itself in a new form, a form that has its own dichotomy. Man will never define nature. It must be accepted as it is without logic, reason, or definition. Life is. Death is. Though man may flounder, nature will always find a way to transform itself into something new and beautiful.
2) William Blake is the personification of the transformation of nature. He undergoes an extreme journey from one type of life (human/physical) to a deeper, more spiritual type of life (the higher level of consciousness). This journey, for any man/woman who decides to take it, is a long and arduous road, fraught with personal introspection and the facing and overcoming of demons created by outside influences. The rewards for the journey far outweigh the terrors. One becomes at peace with oneself, capable of dealing with anything life tosses at them. Inner peace alone is difficult to cultivate, let alone changing lifestyles or habits. I may sound as if I personally know all about it, but I don't! The journey never really ends, as everything in nature continues to change. For me, the lesson here is not the destination but the journey that holds the most intrigue. Previously, I turned to other people for advice and guidance. Now I guide myself and listen closely to what my own soul says to me. The soul craves the simple acceptance of the cycles of nature. Not convinced? Why do we go camping? Hiking? Walking, either in the sunshine or the rain? Why do we feel livelier in the spring than the fall? Why do we sleep more in the winter than the summer? Why are women's cycles tied securely to the moon and its phases? Why do we feel happier when the sun shines? If one thinks long enough about it, one will find the ties one has with nature and allow it to guide and direct. Nature has yet to fail!
3) Finally, Nobody. This is the only real support for reincarnation, for the viewer realizes that nobody ever really dies. Each person passes on to the next level of the earth where new adventures await. But why do we, or most of us, never remember any past lives? Personally, I believe it's because nature abhors a vacuum. If we were to carry over the experiences of previous lives, we, as parts of nature, would overset the balance and cause stagnation instead of transformation. We would be born knowing everything we needed to know, leaving very little reason to exist at all. What goal would we strive for? What lessons would be left to learn? Where would be the joy of a baby's first smile, first step, first word, first anything? We would be cogs in a stagnant wheel, doomed to spin forever in a single direction without ever experiencing change or new vistas, no new challenges, no need for creativity, no need to study or learn. That's not to say that death is lovely or fearful. Death itself is only a passage, a gateway to the next plain of existence. What that existence will be, we, as human beings on this earth, will never know. Personally, I cannot fear death, nor do I. I see it as the next step of my journey through nature, or the universe, or the plains of existence, or whatever one might want to call it. In fact, I've ceased trying to define such words as faith, truth, belief, etc. These are intangible qualities and must be accepted as is…with no logic or reason. Attempts at definition tend to limit these qualities and place them in little boxes never meant to hold them in the first place. Nobody is Everyman…Jarmusch's view of what we can become and be by accepting the cycle of life and death.
You, gentle reader, have every right to chide me deeply for even writing this review, if these are my views and I cling to them. My only defense must be the strong drive in each of us to create our own sense of purpose in life. The drive to define that which cannot be defined remains the ultimate challenge of life, a challenge that lends itself to creativity. This very drive is the source of many sciences that have extended our lives, giving us more time for the journey and greater sense of what we may become. It's that tantalizing glimpse of the unknown that is beautifully portrayed in Dead Man.
All dialog courtesy of:
Jarmusch, Jim. Dead Man. Miramax Films. Buena Vista Pictures Distributions, Inc.
Writer: Jim Jarmusch
Director: Jim Jarmusch
Producer: Demetra J. McBride
Actors: Johnny Depp (William Blake) and Gary Farmer(Nobody)