The Limits of Control (2009)

Director:

Jim Jarmusch

Writer:

Jim Jarmusch (written by)

Release Date:

28 May 2009 (Germany)

Genre:

Crime | Drama | Thriller

Tagline:

For every way in, there is another way out.

Plot:

The story of a mysterious loner, a stranger in the process of completing a criminal job. |

Plot Keywords:

Female Nudity | Female Frontal Nudity | Nude Wearing Glasses | Woman Wearing Glasses

Cast

Isaach De Bankolé	...	Lone Man
Alex Descas	...	Creole
Jean-François Stévenin	...	French
Óscar Jaenada	...	Waiter
Luis Tosar	...	Violin
Paz de la Huerta	...	Nude
Tilda Swinton	...	Blonde
Youki Kudoh	...	Molecules
John Hurt	...	Guitar
Gael García Bernal	...	Mexican
Hiam Abbass	...	Driver
Bill Murray	...	American
Héctor Colomé	...	Second American
María Isasi	...	Flamenco Club Waitress
Norma Yessenia Paladines	...	Flight Attendant

Also Known As:

No Limits No Control (USA) (closing credits title)

MPAA:

Rated R for graphic nudity and some language.

Runtime:

116 min

Country:

USA | Spain | Japan

Language:

English | Spanish | Hebrew | French | Japanese

Color:

Color

Aspect Ratio:

1.85 : 1

Sound Mix:

Dolby Digital | DTS

Certification:

USA:R | Canada:13+ (Quebec) | Canada:14A (Manitoba/Ontario) | Canada:PG (British Columbia) | New Zealand:M | Portugal:M/12 | Japan:PG12 | Hong Kong:IIB | Finland:K-11 | Mexico:B15

Filming Locations:

Almería, Andalucía, Spain

Company:

Focus Features

Trivia:

Isaach De Bankolé exchanges matchboxes throughout the film with 'Le Boxeur' (The Boxer) written on them, the name of his character in his other film White Material (2009).

Goofs:

Crew or equipment visible: When the Lone Man has passed the last picture in the museum during his first visit, the camera can be seen slightly reflected in the glass of the picture frame.

Quotes:

American: Is this your twisted idea of revenge for something?
Lone Man: No. Revenge is useless.

Movie Connections:

References The Lady from Shanghai (1947)

Soundtrack:

Farewell

Post-Modernist Fun

"The Limits of Control" is a post-modernist exercise. It doesn't tell a story. (There are apparently no stories worth telling on a planet defined by a singer as dirt.) Rather, the movie borrows the plot lines and dialogue of film noir, the preoccupations of French art criticism, and other semi-art cinema fare, and recombines them in a heavily ironic and lushly sensual setting, (1) to draw attention to itself and (2) to comment on dreams, art, and the making of art.

Does it take itself seriously? Not really. Is it fun to watch? Of course. Who wouldn't enjoy watching a reclining nude woman with a revolver try to get her man (who responds "never while I'm working")? A laconic buff control freak in service to wise guys methodically inspect, and then eat, the coded messages that arrive at his patio table in matchboxes? A series of go-betweens solemnly ask the central character, in various languages, "Do you speak Spanish?" before launching into their wild-eyed explications in English?

The only part of the movie I found disappointing was the ending, a paean to flights of imagination wrapped in a faux action film climax. Bill Murray is simply unconvincing as a bellicose bad guy and the resolution is all too neat. But until then the dreams are great, the cinematography is first-rate, and the acting is top-drawer.