Simon’s review published on Letterboxd:
Woah. I just ended this half an hour ago and I'm having a tear in my eye. Not because it's a rather sad film, don't get me wrong, it is, but it's mostly because the film was quality on a whole other level. Harry Dean Stanton, my gosh. It's strange how humans doesn't appreciate certain people and things, until we lose them. I know that feeling too well. Back in May, I lost a friend. He was run over by a car, in Australia, as an exchange student. He was so drunk and tired, so he decided to walk home without nobody by his side, and after a while, he layed down on the road and fell asleep. We had been planning on doing many things together when he'd come home, as playing golf. I wish I could have said something really nice to him before he left my house three days before the trip. A couple of months ago, I broke my television. It's still a mystery to me how it happened, but half of the screen wouldn't work, so to say. Something under the screen, I guess. It's not the end of the world because of a that, but I'd still wish that I could go back in time and appreciate that it worked, just as I now wanted to appreciate Harry Dean Stanton being alive. I didn't know him personally, nor was his death tragic, but it still hurts, because I feel like I knew him, through his immortal roles on screen. Paris, Texas could very well be his best performance. I would go as far to say that the final monologue was more beautiful than everything in motion picture history. We all have minor and big problems in our life, but that monologue made me forget my own problems and I begun thinking that everything doesn't have to be frustrating, even though one thing in life is. The admiration I had for Travis was almost unbelieveable. Like a connection between the actor and the audience.