A patchwork B-thriller with an A-cast-and-crew, but it has its moments.
An America already nearly forgotten. Gas stations. Hotel rooms. Pay phones. Vast desert vistas and even vaster internal terrain. Harry Dean Stanton's iconic wanderer. Dean Stockwell's fundamental decency. Temporary urban tranquility. A brothel that tends to loneliness and pain. Kindness and forgiveness transcending selfishness and jealousy. Nastassja Kinski bares her soul. A movie that takes you someplace. Lightning in a bottle. A masterpiece.
Crafted with undeniable verve, yet still a little silly. While I'm glad Mitchell doesn't belabor his tale with explanation or exposition, I must confess I started thinking of questions about the "rules" like the wiseacres in GREMLINS 2: Can "It" follow you to Europe, if you tried to escape there? Would "It" fly overseas in pursuit? First class or coach? This probably indicates a lack of investment on my part (or Mitchell's?) in the characters: namely Greta Gerwig-girl, our understandably…