It is one that is remarkably moving in terms of plot and character, and exhilarating in its filmmaking technique. Wenders’ second American film is easily one of the best dramas produced in the 1980s.
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Wim Wenders has made many a road movie both before and after Paris, Texas, but few turned out as well. Even the smallest roles, such as Bernhard Wicki’s German doctor, Tom Farrell’s highway overpass screaming man and John Lurie’s sex club manager (or is he a pimp?) are perfectly cast. Stockwell, Clement and Kinski, who shot her scenes in a week, all turn in excellent supporting turns. Kit Carson (who helped with Shepard’s script), is a natural in front of the camera and displays perfect chemistry with Stanton.
The young Carson, the son of actress Karen Black and L.M. The always impressive Stanton turns in the performance of his lifetime, one that speaks volumes through facial expressions and appearance often without saying a word. Then there are the performances by a cast that can only be described as perfect. Robby Muller’s breathtaking cinematography and Ry Cooder’s legendary slide guitar score perfectly accentuate aura of loneliness, sadness and regret that run throughout the film. Sam Shepard’s screenplay is simple but astute, filled with characters and dialogue that act, look and sound real. As in his Road Movie trilogy from the mid 1970s (Alice in the Cities, The Wrong Move and Kings of the Road), Wenders deftly explores themes of alienation, loss, emotional disconnection and attempts at reconciliation, this time through a near-mythical view of the fading American Southwest and the enigma that is the American Family. Paris, Texas is a drama that packs an emotional punch that does so without being clichéd or overwrought.
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