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Any review of DEAD MAN which does not allude to Colin McCarthy's breathtaking novel, BLOOD MERIDIAN, is fairly ignorant of DEAD MAN's roots. BLOOD MERIDIAN follows the tale of a novice roustabout and cowboy as he wanders through the surreality of the 19th Century West: all dust, blood, and brutality. Colin McCarthy, who usually writes gentler novels, let it all out in BLOOD MERIDIAN -- and that's what Jarmusch has done in DEAD MAN.
I found DEAD MAN to be both visually beautiful, even in its most gritty scenes, and allegorical to the max: who has not been wandering aimlessly in the 1990s, as does William Blake in the 1890s of DEAD MAN? Claim you have a purpose and you are either a fool or a liar. Jarmusch attributes neither to Blake, only the will to survive -- and to his Indian shaman, the will to have Blake die, honorably and well. Facing the surreality of life in the 21st Century, we would be lucky to do as well.
Cranky misses more than one point. But he's so smart....
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