One of my favourite dinner party questions to ask, especially when in the company of those who are more artistically inclined, is around the hypothetical scenario where we each have to choose a piece of art to preserve for future generations, or perhaps provide to those from another dimension, that we best feel encompasses the human race. The answers are always intriguing and lead to terrific discussion since there are reasons for every selection that speaks to each individual’s perceptions of what best represents our existence. My personal choice sometimes changes depending on the day and what art has recently spoken to me on a deeper level, but the one that feels most natural is Night on Earth, the wonderful anthology film written and directed by Jim Jarmusch, who tells five stories set over a single night in different parts of the world, each one focused on a taxi driver and their passengers, specifically the connections formed between them over a very short period. Jarmusch has always been one of our sharpest and most dedicated social commentators, his films being intricately woven, beautifully complex works that touch on very deep issues with a combination of wit and candour that has come to define his work – and as someone who has seemingly mastered the art of the anthology, his work in Night on Earth is some of his most precise and deeply meaningful, as well as some of his funniest, this contrast is one of the reasons his work is so captivating, and why he is one of the most versatile independent filmmakers of the past few decades. It may be slightly rough around the edges, and can occasionally be accused of heavy-handed commentary in a few moments, but Night on Earth is a tremendously engrossing comedy that knows how to navigate some tricky subject matter, delivering a meaningful and insightful examination of the human condition, one that blends many different ideas into a single masterful deconstruction of social structure, and employing a deeply melancholy approach that underlines many of the aspects that sit at the very centre of this film.

On a purely conceptual level, Night on Earth is extremely inventive, taking a very simple concept and crafting a film that is quite compelling without being overly complex. Jarmusch is someone who chooses intriguing topics that he manages to make seem effortlessly simple, and profoundly meaningful, which is not an easy trait, but one that he has mastered over the course of his career. Choosing to make an anthology film around a common subject is not bespoke to his work, but it is something that he explores with rigour, focusing on ideas that are deeply meaningful, but not neglecting the opportunity to infuse every story with some humour. Even just on the surface, we are enraptured by the choice to tell five isolated stories that share a few common ideas in terms of general structure and some minor philosophical details, each one set in entirely different cities across America and Europe (and one would imagine that Jarmusch would have easily expanded elsewhere given the opportunity), and it feels like a cinematic road-trip across the continents, focusing on the lives of people in radically different environments, and being able to sample a small amount from each one of them. Placing them in contrast to one another was quite a smart choice – the use of the framing device in which each story is preceded by a clock showing the time is an endearing detail since it gives off the impression that these five stories are taking place concurrently, just in different timezones, which adds to the ethereal nature of exploring the human condition, which we know is not just a linear, singular narrative but rather billions that intersect and overlap in various ways, being a constellation of unique experiences stretched over the years that collectively make up humanity. Every detail is well-placed and meaningful, and we find that we are constantly asked to look deeper than the surface to understand exactly what is being said, which does take some thought, but which Jarmusch ensures we understand, leaving very little room for ambiguity and instead prioritizing the more intricate details that we would usually not find being quite as potent had this story been told by just about anyone else.

Structurally, Night on Earth is remarkably inventive, but we find the most impact is made when we look slightly deeper and focus on what is specifically being said throughout the film. Each of these stories may share the fact that they focus on the interactions between taxi drivers and their passengers, but their theoretical frameworks go much deeper, and we find that they may differ in tone and approach (especially since some are more comedic, while others are shrouded in a feeling of deep sorrow), they work together collectively to present brief but meaningful conversations on some of life’s most intimidating subjects, whether it is the faded Hollywood executive looking for the next big star, the immigrant who finds himself the victim of casual racism, the eccentric loon who is intent on confessing his entire history of sexual experimentation with an unwilling priest, the unlikely friendship formed between an elderly clown and a volatile but compassionate urban young man, or someone who reflects on the tragedy that followed the death of his newborn child. Each of these stories is beautifully curated by Jarmusch, who may have not structured the film as such, but we can compress each one of these plotlines to a single concept – ageing, race, identity, fame and family, all of which are complex ideas that are explored with incredible dedication by the director and his collaborators on this film. Night on Earth is clearly more than a run-of-the-mill anthology film that consists of just five unrelated stories that share a common framing device (which is often the case with these films), but rather a vibrant and enthralling series of moments in which we spend roughly half an hour in each of these cities, taking in the sights and sounds, sampling from the cultures that populate these spaces, and being mentally stimulated by these remarkably endearing and deeply meaningful stories, which are connected by a philosophical thread, the very nature of which is not made clear and intentionally kept ambigious by the director, who understands that there is a purpose to these overlapping narratives, but it is up to each viewer to determine what they want to glean from these stories, as well as choosing which of them are most resonant, as all of us will undoubtedly be drawn to some over others, which is not only understandable in this case, but actively encouraged by the director, who is in pursuit of something much deeper with this film.

It has been well-documented that the stories that exist at the heart of Night on Earth were primarily written through a process of Jarmusch choosing the actors with whom he wanted to work, and constructing stories based around them, rather than conceiving of these characters and their environments and then choosing the right people to bring them to life. It’s not an orthodox practice, but it is one that occasionally happens, and when done well, the results can be magnificent. Night on Earth contains an international cast, plucked from numerous different nationalities, thrown together into this wonderfully off-the-wall comedy. Some are actors with whom the director has regularly collaborated, such as Roberto Benigni, Isaach De Bankolé and Matti Pellonpää , while others worked with him for the first time, which is quite exciting, since Jarmusch is expanding his repertoire and casting actors who were already well-established, but still giving them some of the best work of their career. Two actors, in particular, stand out – the first is Gena Rowlands, whose grandiosity is always incredible to witness, especially since she is never reluctant to bear her soul for the entire audience, and even in such a small role, she is remarkable. Her presence, in particular, means a great deal to this film, since her collaborations with her creative and personal partner John Cassavetes set the foundation for American independent film, and essentially passed down the torch to directors like Jarmusch, who has carried it with pride and a consistent desire to push his artistic boundaries. The other memorable performance comes on behalf of Armin Mueller-Stahl, who delivers a portrayal of an East German defector that is simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking, his depiction of a man who wants to be a functioning member of society, but struggles because of both the language barrier and his limited skillset, is incredibly beautiful and unquestionably one of the most impactful aspects of this film. Yet, even pointing these two out means that we are overlooking the wider cast, which is populated with several astonishing performers, all of whom are exceptional and deeply moving in their way, adding so much complexity to this already layered and poignant film.

Night on Earth is an incredible film for several reasons – but perhaps the one that strikes us as being the most concise is that we find Jarmusch compressing the entirety of the human condition into two hours, which sounds like a hyperbolic reaction, but is somehow the sensation we get from seeing him weave together these five stories into one cohesive work of incredible artistry. These subjects are approached with sensitivity and honesty that we don’t often find incredibly compelling, especially not when looking at a director who has often been criticized for his work supposedly being aloof and deadpan, proving with this film that he is more than capable of the most profound and undeniable compassion imaginable and that he can weave together stories taken from the very heart of the human condition. It’s an engaging, funny and heartfelt film that takes quite a bold stance on certain issues but is mainly a resounding celebration of existence, a bitingly funny and wonderfully warm examination of what it means to be alive, as well as focusing on those small but significant aspects that tie us together, regardless of who we are or where we are from. Jarmusch has somehow captured the very essence of humanity in Night on Earth, the simplicity with which he approaches these stories reflects something much deeper, which we discover as the film progresses. It’s wonderfully endearing and incredibly charming, and has genuine depth, which makes for a truly remarkable piece of storytelling, and proves Jarmusch as being one of our great independent filmmakers. The cast he chooses to bring the film to life, coupled with a few other creative collaborations (such as the extraordinary music by Tom Waits, and the cinematography, which is handed to Frederick Elmes, who captures the beauty of these five cities extremely well) make Night on Earth one of the best films of the 1990s, a deeply melancholic comedy that balances humour and pathos in a way that is inventive, meaningful and almost revolutionary. It is a straightforward film with a simple premise, yet it flourishes into a deeply sentimental work that is vivid and engrossing and reminds us of the many surprises patiently waiting for us as we go on that unpredictable journey that is life, as well as the many eccentric characters we meet along the way.