There comes a scene in Paterson when having suffered a minor setback, it’s central character sits in front of a waterfall. He watches the birds flock together in a rhythmic motion, feels the air moving his hair and let the realization of the loss sink in. He is then joined by a Japanese stranger. Courtesy to an extremely strong writing, the conversation between the two might quite simply be the most sublime exchange of thoughts in the previous year.

Nothing moves in Paterson. The bar remains the same, the city feels as if on a standstill and even the rivers flow at the same pace. For the course of two hours, our lead character named Paterson who is a bus driver cum poet, walks the same paths, moves around same characters and have nearly similar conversations. His wife Laura, a core dreamer at her heart, constantly motivates him to share his poetry to the world. What follows is the trials and tribulations of this couple over a course of one week. There are no confrontations, no moral dilemmas, no dearth of cash and no unnecessary drama. Paterson is devoid of everything that is artificial and feels like an overtly personal craft from an extremely promising director, Jim Jarmusch.

You may consider Paterson either as an immaculate study of routine life or an attempt to praise the unsung creative heroes of everyday. The writing is precise and the poetry are immensely personal. Written from a first person narrative of Paterson, they feel exceptionally close and real. They offer no insights, shells away no deep metaphors. They just are. Like us. Simply existing peacefully on the blank pages, filling the voids with beauty.

High On Films in collaboration with Avanté

There is a stillness that echoes from every frame of Paterson. It has a profound sense of contentment, a pacified heart which holds all the silent wonders of life and an unabashed celebration of ordinary. Jarmusch’s love for life and all that is art encompasses everything in Paterson. It is a poetic ode which is breathtaking in it’s simplicity and uplifting in all it’s mundane glory.

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