The edges of the almighty system pulse with life, but the heart itself is paralyzed — transformed into an artificial reality. The system of western popular culture that is Memphis, Tennessee — the American holy city of rock, soul, and gospel — is a world turned imaginary. Jim Jarmusch examines this world through an edgy triptych: a young Japanese couple, an elegant Roman woman, and a drunken male trio staggering at the borders of the dark underbelly all throw themselves inside the magic circle of a ragged hotel. None of them know each other — or themselves for that matter. The ghost of Elvis appears. Sometimes a ghost is essential like Hamlet’s father or Banquo in Macbeth.
It feels symptomatic that the most humor, warmth and style is found specifically in the depiction of the Japanese — the most foreign element in this run-down depiction of Memphis. Youki Kudoh shines in her role as the young woman.
Mystery Train has humor, sex and violence, but above all else, it has great and gentle grief, which seemingly seeps into the scenes and even into singular frames with an unstoppable force. As a true artist, Jarmusch understands that there is no mind in standing in the way of grief. I don’t know what the secret of the mystical train is; the secret of this film is in its delicate atmosphere.
Veli-Matti Huhta