The Limits of Control

Only Jarmusch can get away with pretentious movie about art like this. Less hypnotic than Dead Man but infinitely more interesting than anything else he's done since, Limits of Control is more of an exercise in Jarmusch-ism.

What begins as an exercise in existentialism and surrealism graduates into the amateurish experiment of a hitman procedural.

Some will find [Jarmusch's] excavation intriguing. The rest of us may long for the enticements of meaningful dialogue, character, and story, and a compelling film hero to make it all feel worthwhile.

This is not a genre exercise that subverts all expectations. It is a genre exercise that strips out everything that makes it compelling.