Jim Jarmusch, you bloated, self-indulgent ass…

You stole an hour and 45 minutes of my life! Gone! Poof! Never again shall I have those precious moments back, that I spent yawning and rubbing my eyes while watching “Limits of Control”.

Admittedly, Jarmusch is usually a crap shoot. Loved “Down By Law”, hated “Dead Man” (you hated it too, you just think it’s good because it’s incomprehensible- admit it!). Liked “Coffee and Cigarettes” (sort of). But “Ghost Dog” kicked ass, right? Anyone? My friend and I were bored with the rain, so decided to give it a go, and man, did we lose.

This movie was so bad, I had to seriously restrain myself from jumping up and shouting, “This is a piece of shit! Who else is with me?! Walk out! Riot! At-ti-ca!” I mean, at least with “Dead Man”, there is some substance there for you to hate. There is some dialogue to scoff at. Not so with this latest. Nope-ah. Dead silence. All the way, well, most of the way through. Some colorful characters flitter onto the screen- to do what? Say the same damned line over and over again. So… what do you have? A boring, repetitious snore of someone’s vacation to Spain. I would have rather watched the same episode of “One Day at a Time” four times in a row than have seen this. It was the worst form of torture. Ever.

And then, coming out of the bathroom, I hear two guys talking about how they need to see it again in order to form an opinion. What?! You couldn’t tell that it’s a colossal piece of shit the first time you saw it, you have to come back and make sure?! Hmmm… was the point of the movie that as long as you have investors to back your crappy art, that you can subject audiences to whatever senseless, unadulterated, shameless drivel that your swollen ego can conjure?

Albeit, from the outside, the movie has a lot going for it- Tilda Swinton, John Hurt, Bill Murray… Those actors spew sweet ambrosia from their lips every time they talk. But. Not. When they are pounding you with the meaning of the movie like so much Mike Tyson. And get this- they actually keep saying, “Life is meaningless” in Spanish. Like that isn’t something that a 19 year old NYU film school student wouldn’t think of. Can I get a witness?

And who’s idea was it to make Bill Murray the bad guy? What about him is nefarious at all? His hairline? Seriously. Carl from “Caddyshack”? Venkman from “Ghostbusters”? Really? For real, now? He was the camp counselor in “Meatballs”, for chrissakes. But Jarmusch wants you to see him as a cold-blooded gangster. Please.

I will, however, give it one “kudo” (is there such thing as a singular of kudos?) for being pleasant to look at. I’m sure it captures the “essence” of Spain very well. But really, you could watch an episode of Europe Through the Back Door and get the same thing. Or, even better, an episode of Mario Battali’s, “Eat My Weight in Churritos Through Spain”, or whatever it’s called (better, because you get to scoff at the upper-class twittedness of Gwyneth Paltrow).

I actually saw Jim Jarmusch on the street in the LES a few months ago. He has a big, white pompadour, so is hard to miss. I usually ignore celebrities when I see them (except David Byrne!), but I think if I saw him again, that I would either… well, no, I would just ignore him. Just like I should have done with his movie.