Paris, Texas

The panoramic vistas from the cinematographer Robby Müller are as breathtaking as any John Ford western, while the naturalistic performances and deft narrative structure make this the strongest movie in the career of its director, Wim Wenders.

... An eerie, sad story whose meaning disappears over the vast horizon as if on a highway heading away through the desert.

It's a striking, gripping film for most of its length, with Wenders and cinematographer Robby Muller showing a great love of and fascination for the land -- almost as if their European upbringings had made them slightly envious of the wide-open spaces.

It is clear-eyed and unsparing, and full of the price our way of life extracts from those who can least afford it emotionally.

The movie belongs to Stanton, of course, and it's hard to think of any other actor who can go from Chaplinlike outcast to tragic hero in the space of a feature film.

A rewarding story of distance, separation and ultimately, of renewed chances.

Sometimes, the best movies about America aren’t made by American directors.



Stanton—playing mute for the first act of Wim Wenders’ revered neo-Western—effectively authors the movie’s tone and pathos with his sorrowful, bottomless irises, right alongside Ry Cooder’s soul-quivering slide guitar score.

The cinematography, consisting of wide shots, vacant landscapes and minimalist imagery, gives Paris, Texas a distinct visual style that perfectly compliments the mysterious and emotional core of its story.

Even after 40 years, Wim Wenders' Paris, Texas remains a quietly powerful, emotionally rich character study that explores its relationships and central mystery in a remarkably compelling fashion.