Only Tilda and Tom left alive

The veteran American actor Martin Mull once said ‘a cult following is a nice way of saying very few people like you’. Perhaps this is a worrying thought for legendary independent director Jim Jarmusch, whose latest feature film Only Lovers Left Alive has been chosen to headline the ‘Cult’ section of the London Film Festival’s programme. The components that make up the film - existential crises, nocturnal wanderings, and fetishisation of all things vintage - make it sound a bit like some kind of obnoxious arts student’s final project; they’ve read a bit of Satre, seen A Bout de Souffle a couple of times, and now can’t wait to show the world how achingly hip they are. However, despite some hipster-esque pretentions, Jarmusch’s light touch and shades of black humour make this film incredibly entertaining. Described by Jarmusch as a ‘crypto-vampire love story’, Only Lovers Left Alive focuses on the relationship between Adam and Eve, a pair of aging vampires played by Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton. Drifting through the streets of romantic Tangiers and heart-breakingly desolate Detroit like wandering stars, they come together for night-time drives, ruminations on the banality of modern life, and trips to a local hospital to ensure their supply of ‘pure O negative’ doesn’t run dry. Their peaceful cohabitation is momentarily interrupted when Eve’s sister Ava joins them, played to bratty perfection by rising star Mia Wasikowska, but this forms a small blip on their introspective existence. In fact, without this upset there would be very little to drive the plot along; despite great performances from John Hurt as fellow vampire Christopher Marlowe and Anton Yelchin as Ian, Adam’s only friend from the human world, Only Lovers Left Alive is essentially a duologue between the central characters. The fact that Adam makes his living as a secretive musician, creating songs on antique recording equipment, fits in nicely with the film’s brilliant soundtrack, which won accolades at Cannes. Masterminded by Dutch composer Jozef van Wissem, and featuring the electronic/experimental/avant-garde darling Zola Jesus, the antics of Adam and Eve are accompanied by an eclectic range of sounds that range from the mid-century Motown that made Detroit famous, to middle eastern sounding string music, to epic post-rock soundscapes. Jarmusch’s soundtracks are always a delight, but with this film he has outdone himself, curating a breathtakingly brilliant playlist. However, despite holding strong in most other regards, it is the script that somewhat lets the film down. Jarmusch, who wrote the screenplay, has an obsession with name-dropping famous poets, artists, and musicians the two main characters have known over their long life; it seems that there wasn’t a single person of note from the last two centuries who didn’t have the pleasure of Adam and Eve’s company - from Byron and Shelley, to Poe and the aforementioned Marlowe. There is one particularly painful scene where Adam drives Eve past Jack White’s former house in Detroit, and they both wax lyrically about how much they love him. Although this habit does make the film seem a bit like an exercise in pretension, the wonderful humourous moments scattered throughout the film - most notably a star turn for Jeffrey Wright as the phlebotomist ‘Dr Watson’, who supplies Adam his blood with a side order of sardonic coolness - tip the balance in Jarmusch’s favour, preventing things from getting too heavy. Swinton is, as ever, a magnificent presence on the screen. With her piercing gaze and startling appearance, she is an obvious choice to play Eve - in every scene she is in she manages to quietly steal the show, stealthily drawing attention towards herself like a black hole. With standout roles in a huge range of films - from Lynne Ramsay’s devastating We Need to Talk About Kevin to Tony Gilroy’s thriller Michael Clayton - I feel like I can say, without risk of hyperbole, that Swinton is one of the most versatile and talented actors of our time. On a side note, it is incredibly refreshing to see - in an industry where actresses peak at the age of 30 - a film in which the romance is played out between an older woman and a younger man. Within Hollywood there is a tendency for the leading man to engage in a relationship with a woman who is notably younger; I call this the ‘Woody Allen Effect’, after arguably the worst offender, whose films regularly feature him as the protagonist in a relationship with women up to 30 years his junior. In Only Lovers Left Alive the age difference between the protagonists isn’t seen as a major factor (they are immortal after all), making it a seem like a breath of fresh air in a largely patriarchal industry. The cinematography in the film is sublime, with Detroit and Tangiers captured in long, languid shots; while it could easily be classed as ‘ruin porn’, the burned out remains of Detroit form a beautiful backdrop for this unconventional love story. These images, combined with the wonderful soundtrack and the magnetic cast of Swinton and her bright young things, add up to make a film that is almost achingly cool. Literally dripping in ennui, Only Lovers Left Alive is a film that will appeal to both hardcore cinephiles and casual viewers alike. A cult film? Certainly. An unlikable one? Not a chance.