Only Lovers Left Alive is a bloodsucker
romance filtered through writer-director Jim Jarmusch’s familiar
downtown sensibility. It’s filled with boho banter and deadpan
in-jokes, and its score is a no-wave mash of stately lute pieces
drenched with squalling guitar feedback. The picture drifts like a
dark bank of fog—it’s mostly atmosphere. But it has feeling,
too—about the passage of time, the ebb and flow of worldly things.
Kurt Loder says it’s a little skimpy, but also entertainingly
strange, and it’s not likely to be confused with any other
movie.
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