The Western genre, possibly above all others, could be considered the definitive American genre of film. After all, the myth of the frontier is one of the foundational myths upon which the American republic has been built. The many films depicting the Wild West in the early days of film are some of cinema's most enduring images: John Wayne walking away through the door-frame in The Searchers, the steely visage of Clint Eastwood in The Good, The Bad and The Ugly, and Paul Newman and Robert Redford mid-escape in a freeze-frame at the end of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. However, the Western genre was improved upon, and even possibly perfected, once it made its way to European and Asian directors who could tell the frontier stories through their own particular point-of-view.
Directors like Sergio Leone, Akira Kurosawa, and Alejandro Jodorowsky took the ideas and ideals of the genre popularized by Howard Hawks and John Ford and ran with them, producing such classic films as Once Upon a Time in the West, Seven Samurai, and El Topo. Another such director who took the distinctly American genre and produced an exquisite film is Wim Wenders, the German film director and photographer. His film, Paris, Texas, released in 1984, which was a great year for more alternative films being released successfully, is a neo-Western that is as beautiful as it is haunting. Rarely has a film been released that would be as good as a coffee-table photography compendium as Wenders' film. Don't let that diminish the film's cinematic qualities either, though. Let that be a testament to just how beautiful this film is.
Paris, Texas stars Harry Dean Stanton, Nastassja Kinski, and Dean Stockwell, alongside Aurore Clément and Hunter Carson to round off the cast. The small cast is because it is written by Sam Shepard, the actor and playwright who had previously considered loosely adapting his collection of plays Motel Chroniclesfor the silver screen. He co-wrote the film with L.M. Kit Carson, with Wenders consulting throughout the process as well. Paris, Texas was shown first at the Cannes Film Festival in 1984, where it won the Palme d'Or, still being considered one of the most well-deserved winners of the festival's top award. The film is now a cult classic and has been released on The Criterion Collection, and has inspired directorsin both its stylistic manner and how it represents the melancholy of Americana. This should stand as no surprise because it is one of the most beautifully shot neo-Westerns one could watch.
What Is 'Paris, Texas' About?
Paris, Texas begins with shots of the desolate landscape of the American desert, accompanied by composer Ry Cooder's haunting guitar score that riffs mostly on Blind Willie Johnson's famous song 'Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground'. This piece of music, according to Cooder, is "the most transcendent piece in all American music", and so it was the perfect song to depict Americana in all its glory. Cooder's music follows a great tradition of Western films having fantastic scores and soundtracks. The music plays as Travis Henderson (Stanton) appears, strolling through the desert with his particular red cap. He passes out and is discovered by a doctor who, while thumbing through his wallet, finds the phone number of his brother, Walt (Stockwell), and calls him. Walt comes from Los Angeles to pick Travis up, and the two drive back to Walt's home.
Travis sees his son, Hunter (Carson), at Walt's home after Walt and his wife, Anne (Clément), adopted him during Travis' four-year absence. Travis learns that Hunter's mother, Jane (Kinski), has been depositing monthly payments into a bank account for Hunter. He sets about tracking her down and leaves in the middle of the night with Hunter by his side, setting off the main story of one of cinema's great road movies. They travel to Houston and find her car at a bank, tracking her to her workplace, which is a peep show club. Travis enters her room, where he is not visible to her, but she is visible to him. He remains silent and leaves in anger, drowning his sorrows in a bar with Hunter.
Few directors are as gifted at embodying the sensation of in-between-ness as German filmmaking icon Wim Wenders.
The next day, Travis returns to Jane's workplace and begins to tell her a vague story as he has his back to her. Throughout this, she realizes that it is Travis who is talking to her. She turns off her light and sees Travis, expressing her regret and heartbreak at leaving her son behind. Travis reconciles with this and gives Jane the details for finding Hunter in Houston, who is waiting in a hotel room for her. The film's ending is one of cinema's greatest, most bittersweet, and most heartbreaking, and so it will not be spoiled here. It's bound to draw water from a stone, though.
'Paris, Texas' Is As Much a Photographic Exhibition As It Is a Searing Drama
The film's greatest strength is, without a shadow of a doubt, the cinematography by Robby Müller. It certainly helps that Wenders, as director, is himself an experienced photographer; indeed, an exhibition of his on-location and behind-the-scenes photography from this film occurred in 1986 at the Centre Georges Pompidou in Paris (France, not Texas!). Müller's cinematography belongs on any list of the greatest cinematography in film. The film most expertly captures the lonely and exiguous nature of human beings when contrasted with the boundless emptiness of the desert. This is evident particularly when Travis is in the desert with his red cap on, the cap sticking out for miles on end.
The film's use of color, as evidenced in some of the photos attached to this article, is incredibly smart. The film often contrasts the vibrant reds, blues, and yellows of the American Southwest with the more muted tones of urban environments. Dark, poorly lit streets and country roads are often punctuated by a neon light here and a truck's headlights there. The colors enhance the emotional landscape of the film, with red frequently symbolizing danger, passion, or emotional intensity. This makes Travis' cap stand out so early on in the film against the rich, piercing blue sky. The film mostly exists in these reds and blues. Amidst the rugged rocks of the desert, it stands as a beacon of something, but we cannot know what that something is until later on in the film. Color contrasts are often used in films to heighten the emotional power and characteristic differences. The color palette is both realistic and heightened, creating a dreamlike quality that draws viewers into the world of the film.
The lighting in Paris, Texas, too, is one of the aspects of the film that makes it so beautiful and so powerful. It is intensely naturalistic and yet carefully controlled, creating paroxysmal moods and an almost mawkish atmosphere throughout. Müller makes extensive use of natural light, particularly during the golden hour, like this visual feast from Terrence Malick, to bathe scenes in warm, soft light that enhances the emotional resonance of the film. The contrast between light and shadow is also used to great effect, with shadowy interiors juxtaposed against the bright, harsh light of the outdoors, symbolizing the contrast between internal conflict and the external world.
'Paris, Texas' Is Essential Viewing
Image via Tobis Film
I can't speak for the physical place (yes, it is an actual city in the Lone Star State), but the film is a must-see.It is one of the best neo-Westerns ever put to film. The performances are all restrained and muted but delivered with long, expressive faces, showing the viewer how much the character wants to tell you but simply cannot. The power to speak is beyond their control. Special mention must go to Harry Dean Stanton, rarely the leading man in his career. Travis speaks little but says a lot, and that is down to Stanton and his magnificent performance. The heartbreaking realizations Travis comes to throughout the film, about the missed opportunities with his own family and his misgivings as a father, are tough emotions to convey in a mostly wordless performance. However, Harry Dean Stanton more than channels those emotions and transfers them convincingly onto the audience.
Paris, Texas is a slow film. Very slow. Not quite as slow as the filmography of Andrei Tarkovsky, but certainly living in the same neighborhood. Don't let that put off any prospective viewing, though. Wim Wenders' film will move and shake you to your core and make you contemplate your own life decisions. Isn't that what art is all about?Paris, Texas has influenced too many filmmakers to be able to list them all here, but luminaries like Sam Mendes and Steve McQueen in particular have found the film to be seminal. Janus Films will re-release the film in 2024 after its 40th-anniversary restoration was screened at Cannes earlier this year. Catch the film in cinemas if you can. It is a transcendent experience beyond parallel.
Paris, Texas
A man wanders out of the desert not knowing who he is. His brother finds him, and helps to pull his memory back of the life he led before he walked out on his family and disappeared four years earlier.
Run Time 145 minutes
Director Wim Wenders
Release Date May 19, 1984
Actors Harry Dean Stanton, Nastassja Kinski, Dean Stockwell, Aurore Clément, Hunter Carson
Paris, Texas is available to stream on Max in the U.S.
Image via Argos Films
Image via Tobis Film 
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English (US) ·