In addition to being one of the most revolutionary authors of his generation, Paul Auster showed incredible prowess in his scarce but brilliant endeavours into filmmaking. Somehow both a guiding force and disciple of independent cinema, Auster was behind some of the most intriguing works of low-budget filmmaking of the 1990s, particularly in his collaborations with Wayne Wang, another filmmaker whose career deserves reassessment based on its scope and elegance. However, perhaps the most intriguing of Auster’s films was the one he made in his sole directorial outing, which takes the form of Lulu on the Bridge, a subversive and peculiar film that blends mystery, romance and psychological thriller to tell the story of Izzy Maurer, a world-renowned jazz saxophonist who is shot and left for dead – but he mercifully survives, and it isn’t long before he crosses paths with Celia Burns, an enigmatic young woman who has recently moved to New York City to pursue a career as an actor. Initially curious about one another, the pair soon find themselves engaging in a torrid love affair, which proves to be a far more complex experience than they anticipated, especially when Izzy finds himself at the receiving-end of quite a sinister conspiracy related to a mysterious set of items he comes across, signaling something quite unsettling lingering just below the surface. A strange but hypnotic drama that is as engaging as it is profoundly enticing, the film follows the trials and tribulations of these characters as they voyage towards an uncertain future, doing what they can to survive in an increasingly hostile world, and one that gradually reveals itself to be far more challenging to navigate than they initially anticipated.

One of the many reasons Auster’s writing has been so celebrated, but also slightly divisive, is that one never knew what to expect when stepping into his stories. They were tightly-wound, complex works that oscillated between outrageous humour and bleak existential ramblings, and occasionally featured them in tandem. Yet, the core of his work has always remained the same – he was exploring human psychology and our inherent, inborn philosophical curiosities that quietly manifest in ways that we may not entirely recognize, but which are nonetheless still worth our time to explore, which is exactly what he invites us to do when he unfurls these elaborate and complex stories, each one handcrafted to represent something entirely new and engaging. There is something quite captivating about this film and how it functions, a kind of quality that keeps us entirely engaged while still offering us some keen insights into the human condition, which is all filtered through his very unique worldview, each element handcrafted to create something quite memorable but also deeply engaging. The precise thematic content is not made entirely clear at the outset – there is as much an argument for this film being about trauma and the realisation that we are mortal, as there is the existence of sinister cabals that run the world and control us through subliminal means. Auster doesn’t offer much clarification, and instead chooses to guide us through quite a poignant narrative that situates us right in the heart of his beloved New York City, introducing us to a rogue’s gallery of fascinating characters, each one absolutely spellbinding and truly captivating in what they represent, and how this film chooses to examine their experiences with certain subjects.

Considering he spent decades as part of the intellectual and artistic elite, its hardly surprising to discover that Auster made friends in just about every section of the industry, surrounding himself with artists, musicians, actors and writers – and Lulu on the Bridge proves to be a perfect summation of this, specifically because of how the director navigates these ideas with the help of some exceptional performers, plucked from different areas of the art world. The film is anchored by Harvey Keitel, reuniting with the director after their previous two collaborations on Smoke and Blue in the Face, both of which presented Keitel with the chance to play a more nuanced, less archetypal character that is often defined less by his toughness and more by the tenderness that exists in the margins. Similarly, we find that Mira Sorvino, who was often shoehorned into broadly comedic parts, has a more dramatic role as the object of the protagonist’s affections, being a worthy femme fatale to his increasingly paranoid delusions. The supporting cast is populated by some incredible actors – Willem Dafoe is at his most deceptively charming as the mysterious anthropologist who may be involved in a cult, while Vanessa Redgrave is as compelling as ever in the part of the motherly film director who acts as a mentor to both Keitel and Sorvino. Several other cameos, mostly drawn from the music and literary fields, populate the film and provide Lulu on the Bridge with a surprisingly varied ensemble, each person wholeheartedly committed to the challenges of their roles and how they function in terms of the narrative.

Auster may not be considered purely a postmodernist in terms of his writing (although the debate around this remains ongoing, and there are solid arguments on both sides), but a principle that he shares with those who work within this particular movement is a clear incredulity towards traditional logic. This reflects in Lulu on the Bridge, which is a very simple and effective film at the start, but gradually unravels into something much deeper and more complex, becoming as much about the experience as it is the lingering themes beneath the surface. The precise nature of this film and what it represents is not clear – at its core, the story is based around a man searching for meaning while navigating what we soon come to realize is the very ambiguous space between life and death, the brief moment before he succumbs to an injury where he imagines what his life would have been like had he made different choices. However, there is very little proof that this is the case at all – in fact, there is an argument to be made that this film is about something entirely different depending on the viewer and what they see reflected in the more ambiguous moments that become increasingly more prominent as the film goes on. Lulu on the Bridge is essentially a series of mysteries without any clear resolution, and the director leaves everything up to the individual viewer, who is given the chance to interpret these vague tableaux and the characters that reside within, extracting their own meaning in the process. It’s a rigorous, daring work that finds Auster making some fascinating statements towards the nature of humanity and how nothing is ever quite as clear as it seems on the surface.

There are many ways to look at a film like Lulu on the Bridge, and even more interpretations of what these varied, complex ideas could mean – but ultimately, it is the experience that matters the most, with the film’s unconventional style and very writerly perspective adding layers that are seemingly impossible to penetrate, but always absolutely essential to our understanding of the human condition and what it represents. Featuring some career-best work from Keitel, who has a far more intimidating task in bringing this character to life than we may expect, and driven by a genuine sense of existential chaos that is both quiet and unsettling, the film navigates the fickle boundary between life and death with such nuance, elegance and charm, its impossible to not be entirely taken by its unique ideas. There’s something quite profound about this film and its attempts to examine ideas that are far beyond our comprehension, making sense of a reality that is not as simple as it seems on the surface. Bold and disquieting, and frequently quite engaging in a way that many may find quite surprising, Lulu on the Bridge is a very effective film that shows that Auster had a fantastic visual style (and the unfurnished but striking cinematography by Alik Sakharovand the minimalist score by John Lurie and Graeme Revell only help in creating a very particular atmosphere on which the film is able to draw a lot of inspiration), and that his ideas are just as engaging and enigmatic when projected on a screen, forcing us to look within and determine our own unique relationship with the art, a truly extraordinary and unforgettable experience.