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A man walks alone in the desert. He has no memory, no past, no future. He finds an isolated settlement where the doctor, another exile, a German, makes some calls. Eventually the man's brother comes to take him back home again. Before we think about this as the beginning of a story, let's think about it very specifically as the first twenty minutes of a movie. When I was watching "Paris, Texas" for the first time, my immediate reaction to the film's opening scenes was one of intrigue: I had no good guesses about where this movie was headed, and that, in itself, was exciting, because in this most pragmatic of times, even the best movies seem to be intended as predictable consumer products. If you see a lot of movies, you can sit there watching the screen and guessing what will happen next, and be right most of the time.

That's not the case with "Paris, Texas." This is a defiantly individual film, about loss and loneliness and eccentricity. We haven't met the characters before in a dozen other films. To some people, that can be disconcerting; I've actually read reviews of "Paris, Texas" complaining because the man in the desert is German, and that another character is French. Is it written that the people in movies have to be Middle Americans, like refugees from a sitcom?

The characters in this movie come out of the imagination of Sam Shepard , the playwright of rage and alienation, and Wim Wenders , a West German director who often makes "road movies," in which lost men look for answers in the vastness of great American cities. The lost man is played this time by Harry Dean Stanton , the most forlorn and angry of all great American character actors. We never do find out what personal cataclysm led to his walk in the desert, but as his memory begins to return, we learn how much he has lost. He was married, once, and had a little boy. The boy has been raised in the last several years by Stanton's brother ( Dean Stockwell ) and sister-in-law ( Aurore Clément ). Stanton's young wife ( Nastassja Kinski ) seems to have disappeared entirely in the years of his exile. The little boy is played by Hunter Carson , in one of the least affected, most convincing juvenile performances in a long time. He is more or less a typical American kid, despite the strange adults in his life. He meets Stanton and accepts him as a second father, but of course he thinks of Stockwell and Clément as his family. Stanton has a mad dream of finding his wife and putting the pieces of his past back together again. He goes looking, and finds Kinski behind the one-way mirror of one of those sad sex emporiums where men pay to talk to women on the telephone.

"Paris, Texas" is more concerned with exploring emotions than with telling a story. This isn't a movie about missing persons, but about missing feelings. The images in the film show people framed by the vast, impersonal forms of modern architecture; the cities seem as empty as the desert did in the opening sequence. And yet this film is not the standard attack on American alienation. It seems fascinated by America, by our music, by the size of our cities, and a land so big that a man like the Stanton character might easily get misplaced. Stanton's name in the movie is Travis, and that reminds us not only of Travis McGee, the private eye who specialized in helping lost souls, but also of lots of American Westerns in which things were simpler, and you knew who your enemy was. It is a name out of American pop culture, and the movie is a reminder that all three of the great German New Wave directors -- Herzog, Fassbinder, and Wenders -- have been fascinated by American rock music, American fashions, American mythology.

This is Wenders's fourth film shot at least partly in America (the others were "Alice in the Cities," " The American Friend ," and "Hammett"). It also bears traces of "Kings of the Road," his German road movie in which two men meet by chance and travel for a time together, united by their mutual inability to love and understand women. But it is better than those movies -- it's his best work so far -- because it links the unforgettable images to a spare, perfectly heard American idiom. The Sam Shepard dialogue has a way of allowing characters to tell us almost nothing about themselves, except for their most banal beliefs and their deepest fears.

"Paris, Texas" is a movie with the kind of passion and willingness to experiment that was more common fifteen years ago than it is now. It has more links with films like " Five Easy Pieces " and " Easy Rider " and " Midnight Cowboy ," than with the slick arcade games that are the box-office winners of the 1980s. It is true, deep, and brilliant.

Roger Ebert

Roger Ebert was the film critic of the Chicago Sun-Times from 1967 until his death in 2013. In 1975, he won the Pulitzer Prize for distinguished criticism.

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Film credits.

Paris, Texas (1984)

150 minutes

Harry Dean Stanton as Travis Henderson

Nastassja Kinski as Jane Henderson

Dean Stockwell as Walt Henderson

Aurore Clement as Anne Henderson

Hunter Carson as Hunter Henderson

Bernhard Wicki as Doctor Ulmer

Wim Wenders

Writer (adaptation)

L.M. Kit Carson

Writer (written by)

Sam Shepard

Cinematographer

Robby Muller
Peter Przygodda

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Hollywood feuds – part two: anthony daniels vs. kenny baker, eire on the rise – a look at ireland’s booming film industry, reacher: the hits and misses of amazon prime’s popular series, making the munsters (1963-66), the avengers: the emma peel years (1965-1968), the hollywood vampires – a drunken oral history, the hollywood canteen: service and the stars, grauman’s movie palaces to the stars, scholars’ spotlight: the sad story of “fatty” arbuckle, louise brooks – a scholars’ spotlight, scholars’ spotlight: tom baker, the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare keeps wwii light, challengers review – dripping with subtext, immaculate review – sydney sweeney: the queen of screams, james bond in space the making of moonraker (1979), scholars’ spotlight: audrey hepburn, scholars’ spotlight: robert shaw, netflix for science: an interview with filmmaker alexis gambis, actor scoot mcnairy discusses his new film blood for dust, lost angel: directors andy brown & brian lindstrom talk the genius of judee sill, paris, texas (1984): a review of wim wenders masterpiece, introduction, wim wenders tells a powerfully quiet story in paris, texas (1984) which impeccably evokes emotion through flawless writing and cinematography. in the film, mysterious circumstances leave travis henderson stranded in the desolate deserts of texas with no recollection of his past. after his brother walt retrieves and reintroduces him to society, these circumstances force travis to make difficult decisions regarding how he will move forward with his life..

In a groundbreaking performance delivered by Harry Dean Stanton, Travis manages to begin as an amnesiac outsider but slowly transitions into a tragic hero once he comes to terms with the film’s primary message. You can never return to the same place twice or meet the same person twice. Wenders brilliantly guides the audience into Travis’ past at the film’s beginning. Travis’ obsession with the location of Paris, Texas, where he believes he was conceived, immediately provides a melancholy feel.

Once he arrives, he realizes that paris, texas is just another piece of barren land without any inherent meaning beyond his childhood stories. and travis meeting his son, hunter (hunter carson), who barely recognizes him, delivers another strong pang of sadness. as travis watches a film of him taking his family on a road trip play out before his eyes, the audience has the same sudden realization as travis. his life was beautiful, and travis could never revisit it except through these grainy videos., this well of emotions has no end as travis takes his son on a road trip in a last-ditch attempt to reconnect with his ex-lover, jane (nastassja kinski), only to be faced with the same blunt reminder of the time that has passed when he follows her car to a peepshow. travis fully unveils the reality of the situation when jane does not recognize travis’ voice. but after describing his past wrongdoings and abuses against his family, jane recognizes travis for his actions instead..

In one of the most heartbreaking scenes in cinema, Travis watches Jane for the last time before leaving his old family behind. He leaves Hunter waiting in a hotel room for Jane and leaves town in the same fashion he describes leaving them in the past, only this time with more closure, understanding, and honor. The audience fully understands that Travis’ old way of life has passed, tainted by his actions. Not only can he not return, but perhaps he does not deserve to.

Cinematographer robby müller’s work greatly complements this bittersweet realization during the legendary final phone scene and the general loneliness of shots throughout the film. the audience can watch the movie without sound and still fully relate to travis’ ultimate loneliness, even as he speaks to jane through the peepshow window., the film’s incredible cinematography and dramatic use of color make paris, texas a masterclass in both storytelling and visuals. in every long pause of dialogue, wenders grants you ample time to contemplate the story of travis as the desolate imagery and deep colors accompany the viewers on their journey..

Paris, Texas is a film that takes you effortlessly through the protagonist’s journey while simultaneously forcing you to reflect on your own. The countless messages in the movie easily apply to every audience member’s life, and the slow pace makes Travis Henderson’s circumstances much more realistic. For these reasons, countless critics rightfully applaud Paris, Texas as one of the greatest films of all time.

Directed by wim wenders, paris, texas is currently available to stream on hbo max, apple tv, the criterion channel, and amazon prime video., if you enjoyed this article we recommend:, the hollywood vampires: a drunken oral history ( click here ), meryl streep and john cazale: a love story ( click here ), this history of warner brothers animation ( click here ), if you don’t want to miss any of our content in the future like us on facebook and follow us on twitter and instagram, share this:, related articles, tenebrae: a 4k review of dario argento’s horror classic, the devils (1971): a retro review, short cuts (1993) – a 30th anniversary review, the life of emile zola (1937) – a retro review, cinema scholars.

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Paris, Texas Reviews

The panoramic vistas from the cinematographer Robby Müller are as breathtaking as any John Ford western, while the naturalistic performances and deft narrative structure make this the strongest movie in the career of its director, Wim Wenders.

Full Review | Sep 14, 2023

It transcends [Wenders'] usual road movie archetypes and pressing alienation, and it enters the realm of an almost mythic quest for healing and reconciliation after the emotional fallout of masculine violence.

Full Review | Original Score: 4/4 | Aug 31, 2023

Most of the performances hit every right note especially Stanton, Kinski, and young Carson. All of this is brought together under the management of Wenders who tells a living, breathing story free of contrivances and artifice.

Full Review | Original Score: 4/5 | Aug 24, 2022

... An eerie, sad story whose meaning disappears over the vast horizon as if on a highway heading away through the desert.

Full Review | Original Score: 5/5 | Jul 27, 2022

It's a striking, gripping film for most of its length, with Wenders and cinematographer Robby Muller showing a great love of and fascination for the land -- almost as if their European upbringings had made them slightly envious of the wide-open spaces.

Full Review | Oct 7, 2021

It is clear-eyed and unsparing, and full of the price our way of life extracts from those who can least afford it emotionally.

Full Review | Original Score: 3/4 | Oct 7, 2021

A rare and fascinating experience for those patient enough to go with its slow flow.

The movie belongs to Stanton, of course, and it's hard to think of any other actor who can go from Chaplinlike outcast to tragic hero in the space of a feature film.

All kinds of allegorical meaning could be read into this movie by any analyst determined and supercilious enough. It wouldn't be worth the trouble. The film is far too full of itself as it is.

Full Review | Original Score: 2/4 | Oct 7, 2021

It would be worth seeing for Stanton's performance alone.

Full Review | Original Score: 2.5/4 | Oct 7, 2021

A rewarding story of distance, separation and ultimately, of renewed chances.

Full Review | Original Score: 4/4 | Oct 7, 2021

"Paris, Texas," despite its history of last-minute rewrites, is unsentimental adult entertainment.

Full Review | Original Score: 8/10 | Oct 7, 2021

I've seldom seen such a potent combination of superior talents. Watch the first hour of the movie, and what you will see is an unparalleled summation of America as seen by wondering European eyes.

What separates "Paris, Texas" from most of today's movies is its gentle humanism.

Full Review | Original Score: 3.5/4 | Oct 7, 2021

A deeply affecting film about family, separation, loss and a man's last act of repentance.

The glum truth seems to be that Shepard and Wenders have let a great film get away from them.

If this film doesn't successfully indict the destruction of the nuclear family, no film can.

Paris, Texas is a landmark work in every sense: understated, powerful, sublime.

The grief, the love, the loss; the images by the great, late Robby Mller. The kinetic, the peripatetic; the still, the stilled. The beating heart. The lonely man. The lonely land. I should just sit down and write a letter to Wim Wenders.

Full Review | Original Score: 10/10 | Sep 30, 2021

Paris, Texas is the cinematic equivalent of a symphony. The film is composed in movements that chart the emotional lives of its characters -- of haunting images and anxious silences, of gestures, landscapes, weird juxtapositions and epiphanies.

Full Review | Jul 21, 2021

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Film Colossus

Your Guide to Movies

Paris, Texas (1984) | The Definitive Explanation

Welcome to our Colossus Movie Guide for Paris, Texas . This guide contains everything you need to understand the film. Dive into our detailed library of content, covering key aspects of the movie. We encourage your comments to help us create the best possible guide. Thank you!

What is Paris, Texas about?

Travis stands in the desert wearing a suit and a red hat

Paris, Texas , what many consider to be the greatest film from director Wim Wenders, explores the complexity of human relationships, loss, and redemption, underscored by its poignant narrative and atmospheric visual storytelling. At its core, the movie is a study of its protagonist, Travis Henderson (played beautifully by actor Harry Dean Stanton), who navigates the intricate emotional terrain of abandonment, estrangement, and self-discovery. His muteness for a significant part of the film echoes his own internal solitude and emotional disarray, a silence he breaks only when grappling with his painful past and its residual scars.

The film is deeply rooted in the themes of disconnection and isolation, as exemplified not only by Travis’s character but also by the vast, desolate landscapes of Texas and the urban sprawl of Los Angeles. These landscapes often mirror the characters’ emotional states, with the barren deserts resonating with feelings of loss, alienation, and longing.

Travis’s journey is also a quest for reconnection and reconciliation, not just with his abandoned son and missing wife, but with his own fragmented self. The cyclical nature of the narrative—Travis’s departure and eventual return, albeit in a different form—points towards the omnipresent theme of cyclical trauma and the possibility of healing. Travis’s departure at the end may be seen as his ultimate sacrifice, the relinquishing of his own happiness for the sake of his son’s reunion with his mother, and hence, his own redemption.

Movie Guide table of contents

The ending of paris, texas explained.

Why is the movie called Paris, Texas?

The themes and meaning of Paris, Texas

Important motifs in paris, texas, questions & answers about paris, texas.

Harry Dean Stanton – Travis Henderson
Dean Stockwell – Walt Henderson
Aurore Clément – Anne Henderson
Nastassja Kinski – Jane Henderson
Hunter Carson – Hunter Henderson
L. M. Kit Carson – Writer
Sam Shepard – Writer
Wim Wenders – Director

Jane sits on one side of a two-way mirror while Travis sits on the other speaking into a telephone

A recap of Paris, Texas ‘s ending

In the penultimate sequence of Paris, Texas , Travis and his son Hunter initiate an unanticipated yet defining journey towards Houston. Their venture is both a literal road trip and a metaphorical expedition into the past. It’s a quest to find Hunter’s biological mother, Jane, and in the process, to reconcile with their respective traumas and missing links. Their mutual experience on this journey fosters an exceptional bond between them, marking a transformation in their relationship from near-strangers to a genuine father-son connection.

Upon reaching Houston, they formulate a plan to locate Jane on the day of her expected bank deposit. Their anticipation culminates in Hunter spotting Jane during a drive-in deposit. From there, they trail her to a peep show club where she is employed. Here, the film ingeniously utilizes the peep show’s one-way mirror and intercom setup to symbolize the complex and fractured relationship between Travis and Jane.

When Travis first enters the club, he’s rendered speechless and retreats prematurely, leaving the communication incomplete and resulting in a personal descent into frustration. He falls back into old behaviors like drinking heavily, and tells Hunter stories about his mother and father. Here’s what Travis drunkenly says to Hunter:

My Daddy … see, my Daddy, had uh … he had this idea … he had this idea in his head that was kind of kind of, kind of sickness. What idea? He had this idea about her. And … he looked at her, but he didn’t see her. He, he saw this idea. And he told people that she was from Paris. It was a big joke. But he started telling everyone all the time, finally it wasn’t a joke anymore. He s- … He started believeing it. And, he actually believed it. She, oh God … she would get so embarrassed. She, she was so … she was so shy.

The following day, Travis leaves Hunter at the Meridian Hotel with this voice message:

Hunter, it’s me. I was afraid I’d never be able to say the right words to you … in person. So, I’m trying to do it like this. When I first saw you, this time, at Walt’s, I was hopping for all kinds of things. I was hoping to show you that I was your father. You showed me I was. But the biggest thing I hoped for, can’t come true. I know that now. Your belong together with your mother. Your belong together with your mother. It was me that tore you apart. And I owe it to you to bring you back together. But I can’t stay with you. I can never heal up what happened. That’s just the way it is. I can’t even hardly remember what happened. It’s like a gap. But it left me alone in a way that I haven’t gotten over. And right now, I’m afraid. I’m afraid of walking away again. I’m afraid of what I might find. But I’m even more afraid of not facing this fear. I love you, Hunter. I love you more than my life.

Travis then returns to Jane’s workplace. This time, he avoids facing her directly and instead uses the intercom to narrate their shared history cloaked as a tragic story. This unorthodox form of communication breaks down the barriers between them, giving Jane the realization that it’s Travis on the other side of the mirror.

In the climactic moment, Jane switches off her light to reveal Travis’s silhouette. It’s a symbolic moment where the past and present merge, instigating the ultimate confrontation of their shared traumas and regrets. Following this poignant revelation, Travis informs Jane about Hunter’s presence in Houston and provides her with the location of their son.

The final scene of Paris, Texas presents the culmination of Travis’s journey. Jane and Hunter experience a heartwrenching reunion as Travis watches from a distance, silently acknowledging his role as a facilitator in this emotional reconciliation. He departs alone, but with a satisfied smile—an expression that hints at his acceptance of the circumstances and his attainment of a personal redemption, marking the end of his quest.

A Tale of Two Parises

The story Travis shares about his father’s illusion of Paris presents a striking parallel to his own life. Both men create their own version of “Paris,” a dreamlike representation of what they desire but cannot attain. However, the “Paris” they each construct is distinctive and reflects their individual hopes and fears.

Travis’s father’s version of Paris is exotic, glamorous, and distant—an idealized projection of a life far removed from his reality. He paints a picture of a Parisian woman, a foreign fantasy that creates a stark contrast to his mundane life. This Paris becomes an escape, a joke that ultimately loses its humor and engulfs him in a false reality.

On the other hand, Travis’s “Paris” is not some far-off dream but a humble, tangible place in Texas. It’s a patch of land that he purchases, symbolic of a simple, stable life he yearns for with Jane and Hunter. His Paris represents a dream of familial harmony and personal redemption—a stark contrast to the glamour of his father’s Parisian illusion.

When Travis realizes he is mirroring his father’s behavior, it brings a palpable fear to his life. Travis says his mother was “just plain good” and “she never wanted to be a fancy woman.” Yet his father did not see her that way. Consumed by the exotic dream, Travis’s father failed to ever truly see Travis’s mother for who she was—in truth, not too far from what Travis did with Jane. He couldn’t handle her flaws, her inability to coexist with him in their new family life. Travis’s expectations (inherited from his father) and behavior (his rampant alcoholism and abuse) made it impossible for Jane to be the mother she needed to be.

After Travis tells this story about his father, he starts seeing the fault lines in his life that resemble his father’s—the idealization of a loved one, the inability to accept reality, and the subsequent breakdown of family. This epiphany becomes a turning point for Travis, shifting his perception of what constitutes Jane and Hunter’s happiness.

Travis understands that clinging to an illusion, like his father, only leads to disappointment and pain. This realization propels him to reassess his actions, choices, and their impact on his loved ones. It’s a significant moment of introspection that forces Travis to confront his inherited flaws and take steps toward breaking the cycle of illusion and reality distortion. The Parisian fantasies, both his father’s and his own, become lessons in accepting reality, understanding the complexity of relationships, and prioritizing the happiness of loved ones.

Through the Looking Glass

Travis’s conversation with Jane through the two-way mirror at the peep show club is a potent symbol of their strained relationship. Initially, Travis retreats into old behaviors and patterns, failing to effectively communicate his feelings and failing to fully empathize with Jane’s experiences. He becomes incredibly angry at the thought of Jane leaving the establishment with other men—a complete fabrication that we’ll soon learn mimics his behavior from his previous life with Jane. This confrontation underscores the gap in their understanding of each other.

Thus, the two-way mirror here symbolizes their relationship and the profound disconnect that exists within it. On one side, Jane is exposed and vulnerable, subjected to the gaze and judgment of others, while on the other side, Travis sits, obscured and protected. He can observe Jane’s life, interpret it, and react to it without revealing himself—just as he’d spent most of their life together imposing his idea of happiness on Jane without truly understanding her needs and desires.

When Travis returns for a second conversation, having now confronted himself and the behaviors he inherited from his own father, he chooses a different approach, situating his chair to face away from Jane. In doing so, he not only alters his physical orientation but also his emotional approach towards Jane. He’s no longer observing her and symbolically imitating the period of his life where he judged her, but instead acts as a detached narrator observing their shared history, which is now disguised as a tale of another man and woman—which allows him to fully own up to his mistakes. He gives voice to their shared history, their love, their pain, and their eventual dissolution, forcing both him and Jane to confront the reality of their past.

When Jane turns off the light and finally sees Travis, it represents a crucial shift in their dynamic. The once transparent barrier becomes a reflective surface, allowing Jane to see Travis and, symbolically, her past. The conversation and the shared reminiscing become a cathartic release for both, allowing them to address the unspoken feelings and understand the profound impact of their actions on each other. By telling their story, Travis not only offers Jane an explanation but also seeks forgiveness and closure.

The Silent Farewell

Travis’s decision to reunite Jane and Hunter, yet exclude himself from the reunion, represents a pivotal culmination of his journey towards redemption and self-sacrifice. Travis acknowledges the pain he caused by separating Jane and Hunter, and recognizes that his role now is to rectify his past mistake by facilitating their reunion. He understands that his presence, a reminder of their past traumas, may inhibit the healing process.

Travis’s decision to leave is underscored by his voice message to Hunter, which is filled with regret, love, and a sense of resignation. He reveals his fears and the deep-seated guilt he carries, and expresses his recognition that his absence is necessary for the reformation of the family he tore apart. Travis is afraid of walking away, and of what he might find upon confronting his fears, yet he decides to face them anyway for the sake of Hunter and Jane.

Travis’s act of leaving them behind also symbolizes his journey to overcome his fear of abandonment. He has spent his life afraid of being left, just as he was by his parents, and this fear had motivated many of his destructive actions. Now, in a moment of self-awareness and growth, Travis chooses to be the one who leaves.

Watching from the parking lot as Jane and Hunter reunite, Travis smiles. In this silent farewell, he achieves his redemption. By making the selfless choice to leave, he puts the well-being of Jane and Hunter before his own, exhibiting his growth from a self-destructive individual to a man who understands the meaning of sacrifice. The reunion he orchestrates provides closure, a chance for Jane and Hunter to reclaim the family they lost, and for Travis to find peace and acceptance in his decision.

The Rooms that Bind Us

It’s crucial to note the symbolism of the hotel room—an important motif in this film. When Travis and Jane have their second conversation, it’s in a fake hotel room at the peep show club, a space designed for impersonal and transient interactions. This artificial room is a stand-in for the genuine intimacy and connection that the couple once had, serving as a stark reminder of how distant their lives have become. It is also a temporary place, unlike the patch of land in Paris, Texas that Travis bought for his family, representing the limbo nature of their situation. This setting underlines the illusion and deceit inherent in their relationship at this point. Jane is performing a role, entertaining fantasies for others while trapped in an unreal environment.

This facsimile of a room provides a sort of safety for both characters. Jane can perform her role without fully confronting her past, while Travis can hide in plain sight, obscured by the one-way mirror and the pretense of the room’s anonymity. Here, they are able to connect and address their past indirectly, maintaining their emotional walls even as they chip away at them.

The hotel room at the end of the movie, where Jane and Hunter are reunited, however, is a real room, symbolizing the authenticity and sincerity of this moment. It also takes on the opposite meaning of “temporary” and represents the reestablishment of an eternal bond between mother and son. It’s an intimate, private space where a genuine and heartfelt reunion takes place. Unlike the fake room at the club, this room doesn’t serve as a barrier or a shield—it’s a facilitator of connection and emotional restoration.

The juxtaposition of these rooms speaks volumes about the characters’ development and their relationships. From the artificial room of the club to the real hotel room, we witness a journey from illusion to reality, from disconnection to reunion, from pain to healing. The transition underscores the shedding of artifice and the embracing of genuine connection, signifying the characters’ progress towards reconciliation and healing.

Why is the movie called Paris, Texas ?

Travis leans into his car to speak with Hunter as a building with the Statue of Liberty pained on its wall rests in the background

The title Paris, Texas is an integral element in understanding the film’s thematic explorations . On the surface, it refers to the rural town where Travis claims to have purchased land. However, peeling back the layers reveals deeper significance attached to this name, which encompasses the movie’s exploration of memory, desire, and personal redemption.

The name Paris, Texas combines the exotic allure of the European city with the rugged, down-to-earth sensibility of the American West. Paris is known as the city of love, full of romantic symbolism, while Texas represents a wild, rugged landscape, traditionally symbolic of hardiness and resilience. The title thus presents an interesting paradox that mirrors Travis’s internal struggle—a blend of romantic ideals and harsh realities.

Travis’s idea of Paris, Texas is a place of hopeful beginnings, a symbol of the fresh start he wants for his family. It’s a piece of land he bought impulsively, based solely on the romanticized image his father created of his mother. This choice demonstrates Travis’s deep longing for connection and belonging—a yearning to recreate an idealized version of home that, in reality, may not even exist.

The reality of Paris, Texas , is far from the romantic image that Paris, France, typically conjures. This juxtaposition of expectation and reality is emblematic of Travis’s journey. Just as he imagined a picturesque Paris, Texas that does not exist, he also carried a deluded, romanticized vision of his family life. His insistence on this dream led to the breakdown of his relationship with Jane and the fracturing of his family.

As the movie progresses, the symbolic nature of Paris, Texas evolves. Initially, it is a symbol of Travis’s dreams and ambitions. Later, it becomes a symbol of his disillusionment when he realizes his dream cannot match reality. But in the end, the title Paris, Texas embodies Travis’s path to redemption. It represents the realization that the past cannot be recreated perfectly, that dreams must adapt to reality, and that the healing of wounds requires acceptance of past mistakes.

The idea of Paris, Texas hence transitions from being an elusive dream to an achievable state of peace, as Travis steps away from the illusionary world and bravely confronts reality. This transformative journey captures the essence of Paris, Texas as a symbol of hope, disillusionment, acceptance, and ultimately, redemption.

The ending of Paris, Texas points toward a hopeful future. Travis, having let go of his rigid, idealized visions, can now begin to truly heal. The audience is left with the image of Travis driving away alone, leaving behind a happy mother and son, with the memory of the vacant Paris, Texas land serving a poignant reminder of Travis’s transformation. It’s no longer an embodiment of a romanticized past, but a symbol of a future with potential for growth and healing. This final scene brings the symbolic journey full circle, underscoring the transformative power of acceptance and love.

If you’d like more insight into how Paris, Texas deconstructs fragmented memories then check out this fantastic article from Monique Vigneault.

Jane touches Travis's mouth in home video footage

Shared isolation and loneliness

The isolating experiences of Travis and Jane are deeply woven into the fabric of Paris, Texas . Both characters retreat into their lonely corners of the world, seemingly crushed by the weight of their past. Their shared isolation significantly impacts their lives and the lives of those around them.

Travis, wandering aimlessly through the desert for four years, serves as a vivid representation of loneliness and loss. His muteness, his refusal to speak for a significant part of the movie, is a manifestation of his inability to reconcile with his past. It’s as if his trauma has severed his connection to the world, to the point where language—the very tool that bridges human connection—is inaccessible to him. He chooses a path of silence, living without direction or purpose, a physical embodiment of his emotional state. His isolation is so profound that it essentially renders him a ghost, unseen and unheard.

Jane’s isolation, on the other hand, is more hidden but no less profound. Traumatized by the violence of her past and by Travis’s destructive jealousy, she disconnects herself from the world, retreating into the impersonal space of a peep show. She can speak for hours about her life and her desires and her trauma—but the person on the other side of the glass will ultimately never see her. The glass separating her from her customers symbolizes her emotional isolation, a barrier that allows her to keep the world at arm’s length. This isolation is so acute that she can’t bear to be around even her son, distancing herself from Hunter, the very person she loves the most.

Travis and Jane’s shared isolation—which is representative of any couple in real life that grows apart and creates an atmosphere of disconnection—significantly impacts their loved ones. Their son, Hunter, grows up without the warmth and guidance of his biological parents. He lives in a state of waiting, anticipating a reunion that seems increasingly improbable. Walt, Travis’s brother, also experiences the repercussions of Travis and Jane’s isolation. Despite his good intentions, he finds himself caught in a difficult situation, torn between his loyalty to his brother and the well-being of his adopted son.

In Paris, Texas , isolation is portrayed not just as a personal experience, but one that reverberates, affecting relationships and altering the lives of those involved. However, the movie also suggests that this isolation is not a life sentence. Through self-reflection, genuine communication, and facing their fears, both Travis and Jane manage to break the silence and distance that has kept them isolated, opening up possibilities for healing and connection.

The illusion of idealized love

The film delves into the theme of idealized love, primarily through Travis’s relationship with Jane. Travis’s perception of their relationship is rooted in a romanticized, idealized version of love, which eventually leads to their downfall.

Travis’s ideal of love is based on a fantasy. He’s fixated on the past, on an image of Jane that perhaps never really existed. His pursuit of this illusion puts immense pressure on Jane, who fails to live up to these unrealistic expectations.

The symbolism of Paris, Texas plays a crucial role in this theme. Just as Travis purchases land in Paris, Texas based on a romanticized idea, he also holds onto a similar notion about his love for Jane. By the end of the film, Travis realizes the destructive nature of his idealized love and decides to step away, allowing Jane and Hunter to reunite without him.

Tangentially, the movie delves into the theme of legacy, particularly the way one generation’s actions and ideas shape the next. Travis’s father’s joke about his wife being from Paris, France, rather than Paris, Texas, evolves from a simple, seemingly harmless jest into a symbol of unfulfilled desires and illusions that resonate deeply with Travis’s own life journey.

The illusion of a foreign, exotic wife that Travis’s father perpetuated represents the misconception of the ideal life and the ideal partner. His father fell in love with an idea, not the person in front of him, a pattern that Travis unwittingly repeats with Jane. He constructs a version of Jane that fits his ideal, much like his father did with his wife, and this illusion blinds him to Jane’s needs and desires.

Travis’s father’s example instilled a debilitating emotional pattern in Travis, one that prioritized self-centered desires over empathy and understanding. His intense jealousy and destructive behavior, which culminated in a deeply traumatizing event, were rooted in this self-focused mindset. Travis’s connection to his father’s flawed legacy kept him from recognizing the harm he was inflicting on Jane and his son.

The act of purchasing the land in Paris, Texas, is Travis’s attempt at connecting with the “Paris” his father dreamed of. However, it is a futile act that echoes the disillusionment of his father. Rather than being an act of redemption, it is a stark reminder of the loop of disillusionment he is caught in. It’s only when Travis realizes the detrimental impact of his actions on Jane and Hunter that he begins to break free from his father’s legacy.

Finding redemption

As Paris, Texas unfolds, it illustrates a potent theme of redemption and healing (a significant theme in another Wim Wenders film, Wings of Desire ), but with a significant caveat: true redemption, it suggests, often involves self-sacrifice and a painful journey of self-realization.

Travis’s story is a prime example of this. His journey begins with an aimless wandering through the desert, reflecting the inner barrenness he feels due to his past actions. His muteness during the initial part of the film symbolizes his inability to face the repercussions of his past actions. But as Travis rediscovers his voice, he also confronts the harm he inflicted on his family, setting him on the path of redemption.

He attempts to mend his relationship with his son Hunter, encouraging a bond to form despite years of absence. However, true redemption does not come from simply reuniting with Hunter, but from acknowledging his wrongs and the need to prioritize Hunter’s happiness above his own.

Travis’s two conversations with Jane demonstrate this painful yet necessary process. The first conversation shows Travis slipping into his old patterns, showing the anger and jealousy that originally tore his family apart. But in the second conversation, by telling their story in a detached manner, he takes responsibility for his actions and acknowledges the pain he caused. By turning his chair away from the mirror, Travis also symbolically places Jane’s needs above his own. He is not looking at the idealized picture of her set up by the business, but turning around to confront the ugly reality of his past.

Jane’s presence in the film also underlines the theme of redemption and healing. Despite her past traumas and the drastic measures she took to escape them, Jane seeks redemption through her monthly deposits for Hunter, hinting at her wish to provide for her son even in her absence.

The final act of the film solidifies the theme of redemption. Travis reunites Jane and Hunter but consciously removes himself from the picture, acknowledging that his presence could bring more harm than good. His choice to step aside allows Jane and Hunter the chance to reconnect and rebuild without the shadows of past traumas.

Paris, Texas emphasizes that redemption isn’t a linear process nor a simple apology. It requires self-reflection, acceptance of one’s mistakes, and often, personal sacrifice. The journey might be challenging and fraught with painful realizations, but the outcome can lead to healing and the possibility of a fresh start.

One of the defining motifs in Paris, Texas is silence. The film begins with Travis wandering the desert, unable to speak, symbolizing his inability to confront his past and the pain he has caused. This silence becomes an embodiment of the isolation and alienation Travis experiences. His muteness not only reflects his internal struggle but also complicates his interactions with others, most notably his brother Walt.

Silence in the film is also used as a narrative device, allowing the viewer to fill the gaps of the backstory with their own interpretations and understanding. It becomes a mirror reflecting each viewer’s perception of the story and the characters. The silence forces us to pay more attention to the non-verbal aspects of the film—the landscapes, the spaces, and the characters’ body language—which, in turn, enhances the emotive resonance of the film.

The desert landscape in Paris, Texas , capture beautifully by cinematographer Robby Müller plays a critical role in symbolizing the characters’ emotions. In the opening scenes, Travis is found wandering aimlessly through the barren, harsh desert, paralleling his emotional desolation and aimlessness following the collapse of his family life. The vast emptiness of the desert mirrors his isolation and loneliness, emphasizing his detachment from society.

The desert also functions as a place of rebirth for Travis. His journey through the desolate landscape signifies the beginning of his process of self-discovery and healing. Just as the desert is indifferent and unforgiving, so too is Travis’s journey fraught with hardship and pain, underlining his struggle to reconcile with his past.

Be sure to check out this great article/interview from Sven Mikulec that explores the visual and sonic power of Paris, Texas and why the movie succeeds on a technical level.

The two-way mirror

The motif of the two-way mirror in Paris, Texas plays a crucial role in revealing the dynamics between Travis and Jane. The mirror symbolizes the distance and disconnect between the characters: Travis can see Jane, but she can’t see him, underlining their inability to truly understand and communicate with each other due to their past traumas.

However, the mirror also signifies a turning point in their relationship. During their second conversation, Jane turns off the lights on her side of the mirror, finally seeing Travis. This action symbolizes a breakthrough in their relationship, with Jane realizing that it is Travis on the other side and listening to his confession and apology.

Hotel rooms

Hotel rooms in Paris, Texas are spaces that evoke feelings of transience, anonymity, and isolation. The hotel room where Jane works as a peep show performer is a physical manifestation of her alienation and desolation. It’s a space where she must enact an illusion of connection while maintaining an emotional and physical distance.

At the end of the film, the hotel room takes on a different significance when Jane meets Hunter at the Meridian Hotel. Here, the hotel room becomes a place of reunion, healing, and potential renewal. The transient nature of the hotel room could underscore the uncertainty of their future together, but it could also ironically signal the impetus of a budding, long-lasting relationship.

The Photo of Paris, Texas

The photo of the empty, undeveloped plot of land in Paris, Texas is a central motif in the film. Travis’s purchase of this land signifies his longing for a fresh start and a simpler life. However, the barrenness of the land parallels the emptiness of Travis’s life and relationships.

Moreover, the land in Paris, Texas becomes a symbol of the constructed narratives and illusions Travis clings to. Just like his father’s romanticized vision of Paris, France, Travis projects his hopes and dreams onto this barren plot of land. The picture of the plot of land thus becomes a representation of his illusions, denial, and ultimately his disappointment when reality fails to live up to these dreams.

Hunter sits on the bed of Travis's truck talking into a walkie talkie

Why is Travis silently walking?

Travis’s silence at the beginning of the movie can be viewed as a physical manifestation of his emotional state following the tumultuous breakdown of his family. He’s lost, both literally in the desert and metaphorically in his life, due to the guilt and remorse he feels over his past actions. His silence is his way of coping with the trauma and pain. It’s a form of self-isolation (an important theme in this movie), a shield that keeps him detached from the world that he feels he has wronged.

The silent wandering also symbolizes Travis’s internal journey. It’s a path of self-reflection and introspection, where he’s grappling with his guilt, reckoning with his past, and attempting to comprehend his actions and their consequences. By choosing not to speak, he disconnects from his past, his identity, and even his reality, wandering the desert as if he’s in a state of purgatory.

The silent walking also serves a narrative purpose. It creates an air of mystery and intrigue around Travis’s character, pulling the audience into the story, sparking curiosity about his past and his journey, and setting the stage for the emotional exploration that is to come.

Now it’s your turn

Have more unanswered questions about Paris, Texas ? Are there themes or motifs we missed? Is there more to explain about the ending? Please post your questions and thoughts in the comments section! We’ll do our best to address every one of them. If we like what you have to say, you could become part of our movie guide!

Travis is co-founder of Colossus. He writes about the impact of art on his life and the world around us.

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Reader Interactions

December 31, 2023

Yeah, I’m not buying this interpretation of the ending at all.

January 1, 2024

What do you disagree with? And how do you read the ending?

February 7, 2024

I’d be intrigued to hear an alternative interpretation, as I feel Travis has it just right. Or at least, what I’ve always considered

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Paris, Texas (1984)

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‘Paris, Texas’: Wim Wenders’ Film of Extraordinary Beauty and Irresistibility

By Sven Mikulec

In 1984, one film confidently rode through Cannes, sweeping prizes from all three juries at the most respected film festival in the world. Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas , the visually enticing road film that centers far more on emotion that action, that leans on subtlety and the inner world of its heroes, is still held in the greatest of esteems by countless film devotees around the globe. As a poetic exploration of character set against the grandiose mythological background of Western America, it’s also one of the primal reasons our love for the art of film has grown into this strong devotion that urges our to explore its depths as if on a pilgrimage of some sorts. Thirty-two years since its release, Wenders’ movie continues to amaze. Part of its power, perhaps, lies in the very implications of its oblique title, the subtle hint at its Transatlantic quality: in its core, it could be seen as a wonderful portrait of the Western mythology forged freshly and uniquely from a European perspective, and with such passion and reverence that could only come from an eye and artistic soul of a foreigner. What many people immediately associate with the film, however, is its visual identity, greatly influenced by Wenders’ expert cinematographer and long-time collaborator Robby Müller. Breathtaking shots of Texan desolate landscape, bathed in sunlight, decorated with lonesome gas stations, steaming roads that cut through the brown, dusty carpet that stretches far towards the ocean, lost people trying to find their place under the scorching sun.

The legendary character actor Harry Dean Stanton plays the central character, accompanied by the obviously talented young Hunter Carson as his estranged seven-year-old son and the delightful Nastassja Kinski as his wife, finally given the chance to shine in all her acting strengths. The screenplay was penned by the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Sam Shepard and L. M. Kit Carson, who wrote a script that allows the viewers to be gently sucked in the atmosphere and swept by the power of the scarcely uttered words. Dutch master of photography Robby Müller, whose cinematography debut occurred with Wenders’ own directorial first feature Summer in the City , geniusly plays with lights and shades, setting the haunting visual tone of deep beauty and overwhelming emptiness.

Allegedly shot in only four to five weeks on locations previously rigorously researched by the filmmaker, Paris, Texas has been continuously lauded over the years, with Roger Ebert simply dubbing it “true, deep and brilliant.” This practically sums it all up. Impossible to determine the path which its characters will decide to tread upon, abounding in unique people unlike all others we’ve witnessed before, Wenders’ film is the testament to the enormous but elusive ability of its main actor. “We chose Harry Dean because he is one of the few adults I know who has kept the child that’s dead in most adults with him. He has an innocence about him,” Wenders said of his lead man. The filmmaker, one of the most distinguished singular filmmaking voices of our time, called the experience of making this film a “flight all night without instruments, but this time we landed exactly where we meant to.” It seems they did. Paris, Texas is a film of extraordinary beauty and irresistibility.

A monumentally important screenplay. Screenwriter must-read: L.M. Kit Carson, Sam Shepard & Wim Wenders’ continuity screenplay for Paris, Texas [ PDF ]. (NOTE: For educational and research purposes only ). The DVD/Blu-ray of the film is available from the Criterion Collection . Absolutely our highest recommendation.

LIKE FLYING BLIND WITHOUT INSTRUMENTS: ON THE TURNING POINT IN ‘PARIS, TEXAS’

The story’s about a man who turns up somewhere in the desert out of nowhere and returns to civilization. Prior to filming, we drove the length of the entire U.S.–Mexican border—more than 1,500 miles. Finally, we decided to shoot in an area called Big Bend, in the southwest of Texas. Big Bend is a national park with incredibly beautiful mountains, through which the Rio Grande flows. That’s the river the ‘wetbacks’ have to swim. As it turned out, we didn’t film there, because when we were looking over the area again from above, in a helicopter, the old pilot, a local guy, told us there was an area a little way off called the Devil’s Graveyard. This godforsaken patch of ground wasn’t even entered on our maps, and it turned out to be a gigantic, abstract dream landscape. There are no police, and most of the immigrants who swim across there just die in the desert because there’s not a drop of water anywhere in it. So that’s where we started our film; that’s where we see Travis for the first time. After he collapses with exhaustion, he’s picked up by his brother. The first place they go is a little hamlet of about twenty houses called Marathon. It has a hotel, where Walt drops Travis, and goes off to buy him some new clothes. But when Walt gets back, his brother has taken off again. The next, slightly bigger, place that Walt and Travis pass through on their way from Texas to Los Angeles is Fort Stanton, a town with a couple of thousand inhabitants. We tried to arrange the film in such a way that all sizes and types of American towns appear in it.

Actually, the smallest place of all was the gas station where Travis collapses. It was called Camellot, and we only stopped there on the recce because we thought it was a funny name. Then came Marathon, then Fort Stanton, then El Paso, which is a middle-sized town, and finally the metropolis Los Angeles. I didn’t show Los Angeles as a city but as an enormous suburb. You don’t really get to see ‘L.A.’ in the film. The only real city you see is Houston, Texas. Houston is one of my favorite cities in America. So, you see, I tried to show all kinds of towns, though of course there are also a lot of scenes that are just set in the countryside.

Actually, I was going to make a far more complex film, because I’d originally intended to drive all over America. I had it in mind to go to Alaska and then the Midwest and across to California and then down to Texas. I’d planned a real zigzag route all over America. But my scriptwriter, Sam Shepard, persuaded me not to. He said: ‘Don’t bother with all that zigzagging. You can find the whole of America in the one state of Texas.’ At the time, I didn’t know Texas all that well, but I trusted Sam. I traveled around Texas for a couple of months, and I had to agree with him. Everything I wanted to have in my film was there in Texas—America in miniature.

A lot of my films start off with road maps instead of scripts. Sometimes it feels like flying blind without instruments. You fly all night, and in the morning you arrive somewhere. That is: you have to try to make a landing somewhere so the film can end. For me, this film has come off better than, or differently from, my previous films. Once more, we flew all night without instruments, but this time we landed exactly where we meant to. From the outset, Paris, Texas had a much straighter trajectory and a much more precise destination. And from the beginning, too, it had more of a story than my earlier films, and I wanted to tell that story till I dropped. — Wim Wenders, May 1984

An interview with L.M. Kit Carson.

“What happened was, we got to the point where Harry Dean talked to Nastassja for the last time, to tell her the story of their life. He’d seen her before and sort of ran away. So Wim called Sam and said, ‘Okay, so here’s where we are, here’s what happened.’ And Sam said, ‘Okay, let me write this.’ So he wrote the speech, Harry Dean’s speech, and dictated it on the phone to the script girl, who then typed it up. Then it got to Harry Dean, who went nuts. He had to talk to Sam, he had to talk to Sam. So he talked to Sam, and Sam said, ‘Just. Say. The. Words. It’s all there.’ And it was. And it is. When we shot that scene, Harry Dean had the right to call ‘cut’ if he was fumbling. So we shot it all day long, and he kept calling ‘cut.’ And he finally got it from the beginning to the end without any break. It’s funny; it was a giant hit overseas. When it was distributed in England, the distributor printed T-shirts, and what was on the T-shirt was the speech. The whole fucking speech.” — L.M. Kit Carson

L.M. Kit Carson on the shooting of Paris, Texas .

Harry Dean Stanton talks Paris, Texas .

“Of the films that delineate road trips, Paris, Texas is the most scrupulous, yet it is sometimes imprecise in its geography: when Walt and Travis arrive on the outskirts of Los Angeles early in the film, they’re driving northward on Route 395 instead of the more probable eastward-bound Interstate 10. Nevertheless, this map approximates the geographic extent of Robby Müller’s U.S.-based work, which may be grouped into distinct partitions: his color films, which make frequent use of magic hour sunsets, neon-lit barrooms, and street lamps that illuminate landscapes and characters in phantasmagorical colors.” — Robby Müller in the United States, The Completist

In Paris, Texas there is that scene with Travis, the protagonist, at his brothers’ home sitting to the table with his brother, sister-in-law and their son. They have a dialogue with each other, after watching some super 8 films with each other. What strikes me in that scene is how you use at hard and soft light—the combination—I remember the shot in which you see the sister-in-law with the kitchen on the background. The light that gives this women her character, comes from the kitchen, green neon light—and that brother has been influenced the most by the hard light on the luxaflex behind him, and Travis again in a different way, dark. My point here is this: you have four characters sitting to a table and they all have their own character in terms of light and colour. I think there are a lot of things you do—from a feeling—without thinking it through. There are big mistakes—but complete mess-ups you will not make. That you light someone green, whereas it is not the correct moment. You will correct that automatically with the story. But I cannot remember lighting them all differently.

For me the scene is very effective—every character has another contrast and atmosphere. I can imagine you don’t really think it through, but rather work on a feeling. But I find it interesting how you learn to have total trust in your intuition in a process where 40 people run around you: how you can continue doing that on set? That you remain that relaxed that you’re still able to really see? It is a matter of organisation. Everyone around you also has to be a bit organised. That’s also true for the director. One time in the Netherlands on a Dutch film the director left his script in the shot and when I said something about it, I was yelled at. And then I said: how is it possible that you’re having a meeting at that table, that is in the shot and that I’m trying to light here? They shouted at me. That’s why I didn’t want to work here anymore.

Was there a difference with Wim Wenders—when you did Paris, Texas ? Yes, it was the beginning of our careers. He was a different guy. He doesn’t talk bullshit so much. That can be very unpleasant. And he dared to admit that he was wrong at a given moment—if he had lost.

He was honest? Yes.

Did you reflect a lot about the magic of film, concerning what a camera is and such—things like that? Sometimes, from time to time, however… because of your interest in photography and photographs of other people.

What’s the most important difference between a good shot and a bad shot? A good cameraman. I don’t know if that makes it worse, but it’s better if you know the ‘substance’ well and know were your general priorities are. For instance, I don’t think of money in the first place—what you will earn with this shot and you’re not going to involve things in your decision-making that have nothing to do with the story. Therefore, the more honest you are, the better. It’s the same with telling lies… the truth will always hunt you down. — Robbie Müller by Bart van Broekhoven, Netherlands Society of Cinematographers

Robby Müller on shooting Paris, Texas .

“I remember discussions I had with Robby Müller about the implications of starting a shot like a P.O.V. and then the person that’s supposedly looking enters the shot himself—yeah, not herself, it’s always himself—and we discussed the meaning of it, that strange switch of position. Most of my films are exclusively designed from somebody’s point-of-view, like for example The Goalie’s Fear, also Paris, Texas, so to break the pattern every now and then, and very rarely of course, is a sort of a mental jump. I always liked it because I think it does something to the person watching just as it does something for the character seeing from the point-of-view. It creates a strange distance all of a sudden and it turns the point-of-view from the character back to the audience, i.e. everybody who is watching the film. Every single pair of eyes that is looking at the film all of a sudden becomes the new point-of-view. The point-of-view is passed on to the audience. They first think this is what Trevor is seeing and all of a sudden it’s what they are seeing. That was always the thing I tried to do: to pass on the P.O.V. to the audience.” — Wim Wenders

Ry Cooder about his collaborations with Wim Wenders.

What is it that you find in Wim Wenders’ filmmaking, and that he finds in your music, that keeps you working together? I think he’s a great improviser. I think you have to be in order to seize the moment and make something memorable out of it. There are those who make music and movies in a linear way: They plan them, they have a script. Of course, you have to have a script sometimes—though we didn’t here—but that alone isn’t enough. You have to be able to improvise and respond to what’s going on around you. Then you might get a good piece of work done. As far as I’m concerned, Wim is very adaptable to what’s going on. He responds in a way that I feel is compatible. I feel we have the same take on things, and I really do trust him. You have to be around people you trust; otherwise you can’t do anything—you’re afraid, you’re paranoid, and you can’t do any work. I really do believe trust has a lot to do with it.

Why do you think Paris, Texas was so successful? It was a sound and an image that went perfectly together. The fact that Wenders had been such an arty kind of guy, European in feeling, so he has this whose first third of the film’s Harry Dean character just wandering around out there in the desert because he loved the desert. He was a good shooter, Wim, he photographed well, so it looked great. So what are you going to do out there? Try for some naturalness, some nature tone, some sort of blending of wind sounds and air sounds? It’s not going to have any fancy harmonic references or other kinds of consciousness inserted into it. It’s too little a boat. That was the thing Wenders was frightened about because he had three days to do this. He was on deadline, he had to go to Cannes festival and he had to get done. So I said, ‘Jeez, what do you want to do?’ He said, ‘Play Blind Willie Johnson, it’ll probably be okay.’ There’s nothing to it. It’s a mood, that kind of lonely sound. Trouble with guitars, though, you always picture one guy in a chair playing the guitar, you don’t want that, it’s not good, you want to evoke something spatially rather start thinking about people who are playing the instruments, that’s a no-no. but in this case, we were able to move the tone centres around pretty good, and it’s just a tone centred idea with this little guitar thing noodling along. It’s perfect for the film, it’s just great. It’s one of these rare things. We didn’t have time to think about it, didn’t have time to worry about it, just had no time but three days, get in there and get thing done so he can tear ass over to the Cannes Film Festival. But it worked pretty good. Of course, people loved the film. The film was unusual and it was on time, I think it was the times. Walter used to say to me, he used to say a lot of things, one of the things he said was ‘Timing is everything, if you’re too early it’s no good, if you’re too late it’s no good.’ You’ve got to be there with what people will respond to. That’s changing and shifting all the time, more so now than ever before. Not in a good way, either. But in those days of Paris, Texas , when that film came out it struck people as worthwhile and even important that they could identify with this character lost in this wilderness. They got something out of it. It’s a very well written film, see. — Ry Cooder

Oscar-winning director Sam Mendes discusses Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas and explains how it inspired his own American Beauty (1999) and Road to Perdition (2002).

WIM WENDERS: WRITTEN IN THE WEST

In late 1983, looking for the subjects and locations that would bring the desolate landscape of the American West to life for his iconic film Paris, Texas , German filmmaker Wim Wenders took his Makina Plaubel 6 x 7 camera on the road. Driving through Texas, Arizona, New Mexico and California, Wenders was captivated by the unique, saturated, colorful light of the vast, wild landscape of the American West—even in the 20th century, a land associated with cowboys and outlaws, and suffused with the mythology of the frontier. The series he produced, Written in the West , was first exhibited in 1986 at the Centre Pompidou in Paris, and first published in 2000. — Picturing Paris, Texas: A New Volume Collects Wim Wenders’s Photographs of the Town Behind the Film

Photos © Wim Wenders. Courtesy of Schirmer/Mosel & D.A.P. Wim Wenders: Written in the West, Revisited is available at Amazon .

Below: Martin Scorsese and Isabella Rossellini, Monument Valley (photographed by Wim Wenders).

Super 8 Footage from the film Paris, Texas by Wim Wenders.

Motion and Emotion: The Road to Paris, Texas (1990)—documentary about the making of Wim Wenders’ 1984 film, featuring interviews with Wenders, cinematographer Robby Müller, composer Ry Cooder, actors Harry Dean Stanton, Dennis Hopper, Peter Falk, and Hanns Zischler, novelist Patricia Highsmith, and director Samuel Fuller.

Here are several photos taken behind-the-scenes during production of Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas . Photographed by Robin Holland © Road Movies Filmproduktion, Argos Films, Westdeutscher Rundfunk (WDR). Intended for editorial use only. All material for educational and noncommercial purposes only.

If you find Cinephilia & Beyond useful and inspiring, please consider making a small donation. Your generosity preserves film knowledge for future generations. To donate, please visit our donation page , or donate directly below:

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Paris, Texas Review

01 Jan 1984

148 minutes

Paris, Texas

Thusly fabled for its hypnotic beauty and poise, a haunting European gaze across the lonely highways of Texas, Win Wenders masterpiece is a road-movie of rare integrity, a film of landscapes both interior and to the limitless horizon. Credit also should go to screenwriter Sam Shepard, an actor and playwright who cuts straight to the psychological and philosophical drift of the feature, a film of elusive arty gestures offset against the very Americanness of its landscape, made ethereal and alien by Wender’s luminous camera.

We learn so little of Travis (a perfectly cast Harry Dean Stanton) as a person, he is found mute and amnesiac in the Texan desert, seven years after walking out on his kin. The reason for his betrayal is the film’s destination, but his enigma remains, an eternal drifter. Little time, or effort, is given to standard movie rules, the plot is secondary to the imagery, but Wenders is not aimless. He is studying the listless nature of America, a shifting world where it is impossible for humans to truly communicate. Face-to-face conversations are nearly absent from the film’s long rumination, scored to the elegiac twang of Ry Cooder’s guitar.

As Travis finally hones in on the tragedy of himself, having abducted his child and located his ex-wife Jane (the lovely Nastassja Kinski), it emerges as a study of grief and separation. Akin, in deep-seated ways to both The Searchers with its eternal quest, and Taxi Driver with its social dislocation, Paris, Texas is one of the great films about America, as directed by a German.

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'PARIS, TEXAS' FROM WIM WENDERS

By Vincent Canby

Oct. 14, 1984

A most peculiar-looking figure wanders slowly but with purpose across the bleached expanse of a southwestern American wasteland. He wears a dusty, double-breasted suit, shoes so ragged they no longer qualify as footwear, a dirty shirt with a filthy but neatly knotted necktie, plus a maroon baseball cap. He stops, drinks the last of the water from a plastic container and continues his journey. From nowhere to nowhere.

When, eventually, he stumbles into a seedy little trailer camp, he collapses before he can open a soft-drink bottle. The man, who refuses to talk, is more or less threatened back to life by an ominous, German-accented doctor who, going through the man's pockets, finds a Los Angeles telephone number, which he calls.

These constitute the opening scenes in Wim Wenders's initially promising, new ''road'' movie, ''Paris, Texas,'' written by Pulitzer Prize- winning playwright Sam Shepard (''Buried Child''), whose screenplay was adapted by L. M. Kit Carson. The movie, the winner of the grand prize at this year's Cannes Festival, will be shown at 8:30 tonight at Avery Fisher Hall to conclude the 22d New York Film Festival at Lincoln Center, and will open here commercially some time in November.

The desert derelict is eventually identified as Travis (Harry Dean Stanton), whose younger brother Walt (Dean Stockwell), a prosperous manufacturer of road signs, flies from Los Angeles to Texas to reclaim the brother who has been missing and presumed dead for four years.

As Travis and Walt begin their long drive back to Los Angeles - Travis sitting silently in the back while Walt drives, ''Paris, Texas'' looks as if it's going to be another classic Shepard tale about sibling relations, explored most effectively in Mr. Shepard's current Off Broadway hit, ''Fool for Love,'' and in his ''True West,'' which recently concluded a long run at the Cherry Lane Theater. Travis and Walt could be first cousins to the brothers in ''True West,'' in which one brother is a foul-mouthed, possibly psychotic thief and the other an uptight, fastidious fellow who aspires to become a screenwriter.

''Paris, Texas'' begins so beautifully and so laconically that when, about three-quarters of the way through, it begins to talk more and say less, the great temptation is to yell at it to shut up. If it were a hitchhiker, you'd stop the car and tell it to get out.

''Paris, Texas'' has the manner of something to which too many people have made contributions. One problem may be that Mr. Shepard is the kind of writer who writes best when he writes fast. No matter how serious he is, he's also funny. His art - and his temperament - do not seem to adjust well to the sort of long, collaborative process by which movies are made. ''Paris, Texas'' seems to be a movie that's been worried to death.

Though Mr. Wenders is fascinated by the American scene, as he has shown in his ''Alice in the Cities,'' ''The American Friend'' and ''Hammett,'' his feeling is as much the result of his knowledge of American movies as of the first-hand experience out of which Mr. Shepard writes. He has a sense of humor, but it's more theoretical than actual.

The first half of ''Paris, Texas'' is Shepard at his best, as, gradually, Travis begins to respond to Walt during the drive to California. At one point, Travis shows Walt a snapshot of a scrubby field in Paris, Texas.

Walt: ''How come you got a picture of a vacant lot in Paris, Texas?''

Travis: ''I bought it.''

Walt: ''You bought a picture of a vacant lot?''

Travis: ''I bought the lot.''

Travis, it turns out, believes that he was conceived in Paris, Texas, and he's always had the dream of one day moving there with his wife, Jane, who has been missing almost as long as Travis, and their small son, Hunter, who has been living with Walt and his wife, Anne, since his parents disappeared.

What has Travis been doing during these last four years, and where is Jane? I've no doubt that, left to his own devices, Mr. Shepard would have come up with a resolution to these mysteries that would have provided a far more satisfactory payoff than the one arrived at by the playwright working in collaboration with the director and Mr. Carson. Mr. Shepard's method is to distill from ordinary experiences and feelings a reality that is so dense it appears to be surreal.

This is exactly the quality that illuminates the first half of ''Paris, Texas,'' when Travis, back in the middle-class environment of Los Angeles, attempts to establish some sort of connections with Hunter, played with enormous, comic self-assurance by Mr. Carson's seven-year-old son, also named Hunter.

Life in the small Los Angeles house is not easy for any of them. Anne (Aurore Clement) is afraid that if Travis takes the boy away, it will somehow threaten her marriage to Walt. Walt is torn by his affection for his older brother, for the boy and for his wife. The boy can't reconcile having a foster father he adores and a real father he doesn't know and whose shabby appearance is - well - embarrassing to him in front of his friends.

Travis is at loose ends. He can't sleep and, on his first night back, he spends the entire night shining every pair of shoes in the house.

The film is wonderful and funny and full of real emotion as it details the means by which Travis and the boy become reconciled. Then it goes flying out the car window when father and son decide to take off for Texas in search of Jane (Nastassja Kinski), Hunter's long-lost mother. Everything suddenly becomes both too explicit and too symbolic. It's not giving anything away to reveal that what the movie - rather tardily - seems to be all about is the difficulty in communication between men and women, nor that the sequences in which this is demonstrated are awful.

Mr. Stanton, who can be seen currently in the riotous ''Repo Man'' and will be remembered for, among other things, his performance in John Huston's ''Wild Blood,'' is a marvelous Shepard character. Every foolish endeavor in American history appears to be written in the deep lines and hollows of his face. There is a gentleness about him that at any moment may erupt in inexpicable violence.

Mr. Stockwell, the former child star, has aged very well, becoming an exceptionally interesting, mature actor. Miss Clement, whose French accent is a bit thick for someone who is supposed to have been living in California for a few years, is also moving as Walt's baffled wife. Miss Kinski, however, is memorably miscast. The more she tries to act, the worse her performance becomes, which is more than unfortunate, considering the importance of her scenes to the end of the film.

Prominent in the supporting cast are Bernhard Wicki, the German director who appears as the menacing doctor early in the movie, and John Lurie, one of the stars of ''Stranger Than Paradise,'' who does a tiny walk-on here for Mr. Wenders, who was one of the earliest supporters of that Jim Jarmusch film.

As photographed by Mr. Wenders's long-time associate, Robby Muller, ''Paris, Texas,'' a French-German co-production made in this country, looks great. However, the film, at best, is extremely diluted Sam Shepard.

The Cast PARIS, TEXAS, directed by Wim Wenders; written by Sam Shepard; adaptation by L. M. Kit Carson; photography by Robby M"uller; edited by Peter Przygodda; music by Ry Cooder; produced by Don Guest. At Avery Fisher Hall, as part of the 22d New York Film Festival. Running time: 145 minutes. This film has no rating. Travis Harry Dean Stanton Jane Nastassja Kinski Walt Dean Stockwell Anne Aurore Clement Hunter Hunter Carson Doctor Ulmer Bernhard Wicki Carmelita Socorro Valdez Crying Man Tom Farrell Slater John Lurie Stretch Jeni Vici Nurse Bibbs Sally Norvell Rehearsing Band The Mydolls

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In ‘Paris, Texas,’ a man begins to repair his family by tearing another apart

What happened between Travis and Jane? Sometimes, filmmakers tell us the most when they tell us so little. If the story of Travis and Jane were sliced into fourths, “Paris, Texas” would account for about Parts 2-3. We don’t know how this will end, and we certainly don’t know how it started. Hitchcock liked to say that a bomb going off was not suspense, but the audience knowing there was a bomb ticking under a table was suspense. “Paris, Texas” is a rare film in which the characters, all of them, know far more than their audience and are not about to give anything up. Its director, Wim Wenders, “is attracted to the road movie,” according to Roger Ebert in his 2002 “Great Movie” review. In the early 1980s, Wenders sought out the acclaimed playwright and actor Sam Shepard, notable for the spare and poetic, to “tell a story about America,” one that became very much a work in progress. “Sam will write it as we go along,” Wenders wrote, in an apparent message to the film’s financiers, according to someone who wrote in 2018 of reviewing Shepard’s notebooks. To further enhance the script’s Lone Star sensitivities, Wenders sought “some rewriting” from independent film figure L.M. Kit Carson, who “embodied Texas individualism.” Carson was married for a time to Karen Black. His greatest contribution to the film might be the presence of their son, Hunter, in a demanding supporting role. Ebert wrote that “Paris, Texas” is “always compared” to “The Searchers.” But more astonishing parallels can be drawn to “Rain Main,” released four years after “Paris, Texas.” A barely communicating man is driven across the Southwest by his brother, to the brother’s home in Los Angeles, after an embarrassing airport incident in which the man refuses to fly on a plane. The brother’s significant other speaks with a foreign accent. In each film, a relative is essentially kidnapped for a car trip, apparently willing to go but unable to provide legal consent, yet his guardians choose not to summon authorities. Oh, and there’s a classic old car, too, although in “Paris, Texas,” the likable automobile only emerges for the ride back. The victory, or call it necessity, of “Paris, Texas” is for Travis to deliver his son to the boy’s mother. With it will come heart-breaking, unexplored tragedy, but there is a quiet understanding among all the players that this is an acceptable plan. Or at least that it is justifiable, an acknowledgment of self-determination, that what Travis is doing is not reliable, but he has the right to attempt to improve his family. The opening credits appear in blood-red capital letters, implying “Paris, Texas” might be horror material. Travis’ appearance, expression and silence perhaps could be explained by a “Sling Blade” moment. Those edges soften by the time he meets his son, but their awkwardness together suggests further potential for danger. Travis tries to walk Hunter home from school. Travis will put Hunter in the back bed of his car, no seat belt, on the highway. Travis will leave Hunter on a street in Houston; he’ll leave Hunter in an empty hotel room. The boy comes through without a scratch. Throughout, there are hints of child endangerment, none more so than the ending, leaving the boy to be raised by a defeated woman who works in a peep show. Harry Dean Stanton, one of the most beloved and prolific character actors, is handed here, like Art Carney in another road-trip film, “Harry and Tonto,” the role of a lifetime. While Carney walked away with the Best Actor Oscar in what might have been the greatest year of film, Stanton couldn’t even elicit a nomination. In fact, Stanton, Ry Cooder and “Paris, Texas” in its entirety were completely shut out by the Academy Awards, which do, at least occasionally, acknowledge the greatest films, including sometimes those that don’t fit neatly into categories. This massive oversight, in this case, should be worn as a badge of honor. Dean Stockwell, a Hollywood legend who never gets enough credit, is limited in what he must do as Travis’ brother Walt. Wenders is hardly the only auteur to notice Stockwell, whose prodigious list of credits, dating back to World War II, includes films by Robert Altman, David Lynch, Elia Kazan, Dennis Hopper and Francis Coppola. As a blue-collar elite, he is spot-on, a reliable businessman, successful enough to employ a housekeeper, not necessarily a deep thinker. His observations indicate he knows much of this backstory, even if the latest chapter is perplexing. His wife, Anne, is curiously played by the French actress Aurore Clément, whose debut was in the magnificent “Lacombe, Lucien.” Many movie couples are a mismatch. This is clearly one of them. Wenders might be borrowing from Rainer Werner Fassbinder, a fellow German New Wave maestro who specialized in pairing up people whom no one would believe are actually together. Maybe Wenders is showing us that Walt lives the dream that Travis can’t, that Walt has connected with the real Paris and refused to be tied down to a small town. Stockwell and Clément never really click together, but each delivers in their moments with Travis. (Clément appeared in the chopped plantation scenes of “Apocalypse Now” and is married to “The Godfather” production designer Dean Tavoularis.) One of the setbacks to the script is that dialogue, no matter how rich, is not visual, and reliance on it in a film is a crutch. Wenders counts on the majestic desert photography of Robby Müller to make a point about the bleak life Travis has been living, but the Mojave can’t supply the name of a Houston bank. Several important revelations are delivered via phones. Walt learns in a call at work that his brother is in a Texas hospital, and he approaches Anne, also at the business, and tells her in this critical exchange: “I just got the strangest phone call ... They say they found Travis.” He tells her he will go get Travis, and her reaction inadequately betrays what this means for their family. “What about Hunter? What am I supposed to tell him?” “I guess you better tell him the truth,” Walt suggests, a comment that cements that the couple will not attempt to block Travis from the natural outcome of his family relationships.

Walt’s initial attempt to find Travis ends in frustration at the remote border hospital. Why did Travis not wait for him, and where is Travis going? Of course Travis can’t walk across the Southwest in shredded shoes, suit and tie, and he doesn’t attempt hitchhiking. Travis is a long way even from Paris, Texas. When Walt first spots him walking on train tracks, like Charlie Babbitt in “Rain Man,” Walt demands to know what Travis is thinking and why he could be resisting Walt’s plan. “What’s out there?” Walt asks, pointing to the western sunset. “There’s nothing out there.” Their first scenes together are some of Wenders’ most powerful filmmaking. Which brother is controlling the situation? Walt has the car and more importantly, though we have yet to learn of Travis’ intentions, the boy. Travis has the vulnerability. Given his actions, if he’s left alone, he might die. Walt’s interest in bringing Travis to Los Angeles is twofold. Walt doesn’t want a guilt trip, and he thinks he might want to know the story of the last four years, although Walt asks about it as if he’s talking about last weekend, in a way that suggests he has heard bad stories from Travis previously and might not want to know much about this one. Travis is not associated with drug use or heavy drinking; if he were, his runaway decision would not be acceptable. But he comes across as someone whom trouble might like to find. Walt explains he’s not being a surrogate dad: “I’m just trying to help you Trav, that’s all,” but Travis, like many famous movie characters, makes clear he has little interest in being helped. “Are you gonna leave me?” Travis wonders, after he forces the two of them off a plane, perhaps the film’s funniest given the plane’s location. “No, I’m not gonna leave you,” Walt assures, to which Travis responds, “It’s all right if you leave me.” Travis’ behavior leading up to the plane incident is an indication he might be on the autism spectrum, but his symptoms appear more likely of someone experiencing shock or PTSD. He might be refusing to fly because he has no control of the situation, or because he is determined to see the country from the ground level, or perhaps he is anxious about confinement. With mutes, there is always drama about when they might speak. The first word Travis says is “Paris.” He says it three times. “Did you ever go to Paris?” he asks Walt. He wants to go there now, not explaining he means Paris, Texas. There is endless irony in the title. “Paris” and “Texas” are formidable terms, one signifying the world’s culture capital; the other a statement on independence, vigor, resilience, land, opportunity. Together, they are oil and wine — worlds apart, much like Travis’ aspirations and reality. Children can think in the now, unburdened by baggage. The initial response of little Hunter to the arrival of his father is not positive. He wants to believe that the “dad” that he trusts is his real dad. He sees in Travis not so much a threat as someone who could embarrass him. Hunter’s acceptance is a must for the drama, and Wenders stakes it out beautifully. Travis will try unsuccessfully to walk Hunter home from school. As Travis’ intentions are gradually revealed to be pure, the boy relents, and when Travis crosses the street, it is a victory for any father who ever tried to do the right thing. The Super 8 home movies in “Paris, Texas” undoubtedly remind many viewers past the age of 50 of family gatherings. Cooder’s music here changes tone, a beautiful accompaniment to the living-room theater. (A similar, quieter tone will surface during a closing conversation.) This is our first look at the mysterious Jane, an important and debatable decision by Wenders. Watching the film, the group smiles at some of the images but appears near tears at shots of Jane, as if she were dead. Hunter concludes, “That’s only her in a movie. A long time ago. In a galaxy far, far away.” Well aware of the threat to their parenthood, Walt and Anne have likely prepared long before this day for Travis’ reemergence and accept it without alarm. Their comments indicate they have told Hunter the truth but not too much of it, out of protection for Hunter, not themselves. They do not have their own children (unclear why). They believe they are the luckiest parents in the world to have ended up with Hunter. It came about because of others’ misfortune. So there is guilt linked to that happiness — so much so that they will open the door to undoing it. Walt assures, “We’re not gonna lose Hunter,” though his inaction suggests otherwise. Anne admits to Walt she is afraid “of what will happen to us if we lose Hunter.” She faults Walt for “pushing them together; it’s almost as if you wanted him to leave.” Yet it is Anne who willingly reveals the missing ingredient of Travis’ journey. She informs Travis of three critical things, 1) Jane’s whereabouts and 2) Jane’s lingering interest in Travis and 3) Jane’s interest in supporting her son. Did Anne make a mistake in providing this information to Travis? No. She has been desperate for completeness for several years, and her disclosure brings it much closer. “Travis, I don’t want to feel I’m hiding something,” Anne explains. She also reveals that the decision to have Hunter raised by Walt and Anne was made by Jane, not the courts. It is not unusual for an uncle or aunt to raise a child; this spartan tale declines to reveal whether grandparents or relatives of Jane might have expressed interest. Jane may have sensed Anne and Walt longing for a child. Travis at this point may be lacking in memory, but not defiance. Referring to their split, he insists to Anne, “She stopped being a mother to him a long time before that.”

The reverse road trip of “Paris, Texas” risks belaboring the film. Diners appear in many films for the comfort they bring. Pancakes, coffee, any kind of breakfast food, costing only a few dollars, almost any time of day. Wenders is fascinated by American mobility, the highways and airplanes. It’s fair criticism that he makes the eastbound trip a little too easy. That the boy would not be missing his friends or Walt and Anne, or his clothes, and would behave so enthusiastically, stretches belief. (Hunter does wear a NASA jacket — guess where Mission Control is.) A man and a child staking out a bank drive-thru would probably at some point draw police attention. Of course, despite falling asleep, they must identify Jane that day, because missing her would involve another month in Houston of doing nothing. Wenders saves this predictability with one of the most clever car-chase scenes. If you say you did not actually believe that they might have followed the wrong vehicle and never have reached Jane, you are not telling the truth. Hardly a Texas native, Nastassja Kinski, of Germany, is cast as Jane. Directors tend to keep coming back to familiar actors. Kinski’s debut was in Wenders’ 1975 “The Wrong Move,” the second installment of the director’s “road movie trilogy.” At times during Jane’s remarks, Kinski’s European accent is detectable. Is this an irrelevant side effect, or a subtle suggestion that Travis found an immigrant for his European ideal? In one of the more memorable movie tics, Kinski runs her hands through her hair, constantly, revealing a discomfort with what Jane is doing. Having found Jane’s workplace, Travis could surely confront her at home. But her low-budget apartment wouldn’t include such features as two-way glass, and Wenders needs an emotional discovery here, such as when Paul Le Mat sees Mary Steenburgen parading through a strip bar in “Melvin and Howard.” When Travis enters Jane’s place of work, an adult club of some kind of kinkiness, he immediately hears a woman explaining the environment that these women find themselves in. None of them, at this moment, appear sexy. The woman is saying, apparently to no one in particular, that because the female workers spend so much time on the job with men, most of them live alone. But, she is heard to say, “It’s tough living alone in a city like this. A lot of violent things happen here. Stuff like, like rape, and murder.” She says it’s a “tough decision” whether to live with a man or a dog. “A lot of sick people out there,” another woman agrees. So it is implied that women who work in this place come from abusive environments. That’s what they know. It’s entirely possible that, after finding Jane’s place of work, Travis might bump into her upon opening the door, but Wenders needs to build the drama, and so Travis will first make eye contact with a woman who resembles Jane before confirming, when she is provided to him, that she’s not Jane.

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Paris, texas: european art house meets the great american road movie in stunning fashion.

Tynan loves nagging all his friends to watch classic movies…

It occurs to me only someone with an outsider’s perspective would choose to make this movie, which is void of any prototypical Hollywood flair. No American would have thought in a million years to cast Harry Dean Stanton (a lifelong character actor) and Dean Stockwell (an all but forgotten child star) as leads while capturing such a cross-section of the United States. Therein lies the immediate allure of Paris, Texas .

We must begin with the locales. There’s little doubt they are indeed as American as can be and yet director Wim Wenders , backed by a joint French and West German venture, has embarked on something unequivocally his own. The film’s title perfectly reflects this blending of Americana with European sensibilities. Of course, the Heartland of the U.S.A. is evident. Anyone who has trekked across Middle America, stayed in a cheap motel, or found the nearest rest stop, knows it well because it turns up so many other places aside from Texas.

It is a film reflecting the degradation of this vast country as much as the austere beauty. Cinematographer Robby Müller captures rundown junk heaps, forgotten turn-offs, billboards, and roadside diners because they are just as much a part of the American experience as any amount of decadence. One might say they are even more indicative of the generally accepted cultural norm.

Especially in its opening moments, Paris, Texas readily evokes a bit of the ruggedness of the Old West. What others might envision as the mystique of America with one of its distinctly original mythologies. It is the kind of imagery at home in a John Ford picture, a director who was himself one of the foremost purveyors of this mythos.

PARIS, TEXAS: European Art House Meets The Great American Road Movie in Stunning Fashion

The hard-edged twang of Cy Cooder ‘s utterly definitive slide guitar score gives us a very concrete inclination of our world. The only time I can recall anything similar might be the minimalist music to go along with Murder by Contract (1958). The pure simplicity of it plays exquisitely against the already sparse imagery. Anything more might be overpowering. As is, it’s just right.

The Beginning of The Exodus

Travis ( Stanton ) all but materializes in our story almost like an extra-terrestrial lifeform. He wears his iconic ensemble of a red baseball cap with his suit and tie. Red tones course through the entire film in fact. There’s no missing it again and again. However, in these opening moments, it does feel like Travis never had a true beginning just as he merely dissipates in the end. This almost otherworldly quality readily dictates the entire conventionality of the landscape.

When his brother Walt ( Stockwell ) receives news of his whereabouts, he dutifully goes to fetch him. He and his wife Anne ( Aurore Clement ) are the ones with feet firmly placed in some form of contemporary reality. He is a billboard ad man and they have taken in Hunter ( Hunter Carson ) as their own son.

Stanton is catatonic and yet there is a near robotic purposefulness to his steps. He has a bit of Forrest Gump in him but this is also not quite right. He undoubtedly is plagued by some form of amnesia, which nonetheless is never fully acknowledged. Walt expects his brother to talk after four years off the grid and he rarely obliges.

As they travel back to Los Angeles, the movie rolls along leisurely, content to be almost cavalier with its runtime. Because it wouldn’t be a road trip if you didn’t take your sweet time but it’s certainly a European strain of road film. Giving its pacing, we might easily segment Sam Shepard ‘s story into three distinct parts. The opening moments in Texas set the scene, there’s the interim in Los Angeles, environmentally so different, and then the final odyssey back into the heart of The Lone Star State.

Surely the film lacks pure authenticity but in its place, we are met with spellbinding subtlety, equal parts poetic and mundane. We must only watch the characters a few moments to know they hardly function as we would. It starts with Stanton and radiates out from there down to his son and finally his long-lost wife Jane (the exquisite Nastassja Kinski ), who is the object of his journeying.

There is parental negligence going all but unquestioned. They never seem to cling to bitterness. Even the little boy seems mature beyond his years, ready to embark to the ends of the earth with his recently returned father. It’s as if this one quest galvanizes their relationship without question. There is no need to put words to it. They intuitively understand each other as flesh and blood, no matter the years that may have gotten between them.

Stanton himself is a walking corpse who nonetheless never seems in need of sustenance or sleep. And the extraordinary phenomenon, thanks to time, is the establishment of a new status quo, a slightly modified version of the world, which we readily come to accept. Maybe it’s the foreigner’s perspective I mentioned in passing or a more pensive contentment with the world. I cannot say exactly lest the film loses some power.

The Quest for Reconciliation

Regardless, the final act by some piece of cinematic ingenuity manages to be continually gripping. Perhaps as an audience, we become more attuned and simultaneously conditioned to the pacing. Because while the journey might seem slight, it’s no less of a journey.

With one concrete lead – a bank in Houston, Texas – father and son set off to find the third member of their fragmented family, staking out the bank with walkie-talkies and waiting for her arrival. Finally, she does and Travis makes contact in a garish back alley peep show.

However, despite the sullied outer layer, it’s in this environment of anonymity, provided by a phone connection and a two-way mirror, that allows him to communicate with her in the adjoining room. The pretenses of such a place fall away as the film manages to unearth a tragic intimacy of heartbreak and melancholy in the wake of lost love.

The immaculately staged climax is made up of a restrained monologue – a moment shared between a man and a woman – as he recounts their story. It’s a single scene that must go on for 10, 15, 20 minutes. Except we never realize it. She thinks she is providing a service to the person on the other end of the line, being a listening ear, and she is. But then he solemnly recounts their romance and recognition begins to don on her face.

He pours out his heart matter-of-factly and honestly, turned away from the glass as not to see her in this compromising world. It makes it exponentially easier for the words to leave his lips as she listens, captured equally in every painful recollection. But there is no emotional outbreak, no breaking of glass, or the like. This is purely an exercise in loneliness and regret.

Not until after the fact does the boldness of this scene set in because it’s so easy to get caught up in the moment. We understand the implications and yet we’re desperately trying to perceive the situation, wanting to know if she recognizes him. Even more so, we want to know what they will do.

Paris, Texas : Conclusion

Striking the perfect note of resolution and continued inscrutability, mother and son are finally reunited in a maternal embrace and just as he arrived into the world, Travis fades into the night just as easily.

I can imagine Paris, Texas is a place that is meaningful to Travis in the same vein Nevers and Hiroshima hold importance to the lovers in Hiroshima, Mon Amour (1959). It’s really not a place at all but a part of his identity, a destination he is hoping to get to, a dream he is doggedly pursuing on earth. He is ever searching, always wandering, but in the midst of it, he maintains an unswerving capacity for love. Even though he’s made mistakes we can hardly comprehend, family remains his guiding compass.

What other films use location well to reflect distinct aspects of character and the world itself? What are the pros and cons of making a film as a foreigner in a place opposed to knowing it intimately? Tell us your thoughts in the comments below!

Paris, Texas was originally released in the U.S. on November 2, 1984. It can be purchased on DVD or Blu-Ray through the Criterion Collection for home viewing.

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The Definitives

Critical essays, histories, and appreciations of great films

Paris, Texas

Essay by brian eggert august 30, 2023.

After walking through desolate valleys, driving across empty highways, and navigating the claustrophobic indifference of Houston’s skyscrapers, the long journey in Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas reaches its destination in a peep show called The Keyhole Club. Inside, a husband and wife, estranged for several years, sit opposite each other, separated by a one-way mirror. They talk by phone in a scene recalling a visitor to a prison. But it’s not the wife, the object of the peep show, in prison; it’s the husband, whose failure to process his wife’s autonomy sent him spiraling. Wenders shoots the husband’s distanced, third-person retelling of the marriage’s explosion in a long, eviscerating monologue, aided by the poetry of Sam Shepard’s words, exquisite composition by cinematographer Robby Müller, and a career-best performance by Harry Dean Stanton. Part confession, part apology, the speech supplies an overwhelming emotional release after two hours of silence, pain, and searching. With the film earning Wenders notoriety that elevated his status as an international auteur, including the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 1984, Paris, Texas goes beyond the wandering, existential uncertainties and unresolved tensions of the director’s career to this point. It transcends his usual road movie archetypes and pressing alienation, and it enters the realm of an almost mythic quest for healing and reconciliation after the emotional fallout of masculine violence.

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Movie Reviews/Paris, Texas

2 Summary of Film
3 Production
5 Long Takes
7 References

Overview [ edit | edit source ]

Paris, Texas is a film written and directed by German director Wim Winders and staring Harry Dean Stanton and Nastassja Kinski. Made in 1984 Paris, Texas is a film about American culture. Considered one of films most artsy and beautiful films, Paris, Texas has a lot going on behind what the film shows us. From its minimalistic style to the films use of color, it shows us what the film is trying to portray and the true meaning of the film. The film debuted at Cannes Film Festival where it won the Palme d'Or.

Summary of Film [ edit | edit source ]

The film follows a man named Travis who seems to be a wanderer in this desert plane who passes out when cold ice enters his system. He is taken to the doctors which pushes the movies central plot. The doctor calls his brother Walt who says that Travis has been missing for several years and that they have been taking care of Travis' child named Henry. Walt takes Travis back to his home where Walt and his wife Anne greet him with open arms. There is where Travis finally reunites with Henry and Henry doesn't seem to want to be with his father since his father for the past few years was Walt. Walt and Anne put on an old super 8 video of a fishing trip that Travis, Henry, Walt, Anne, and Travis's Ex wife Jane went on a few years back. This is where Henry starts to accept that Travis is his real father and Travis wants to go and find his wife. Anne tells Travis that Jane goes and gives money to a bank for Henry once a month and that day is coming soon so Travis gets ready to leave. When Travis tells Henry that he is leaving Henry pleads to go with him which doesn't take much convincing for Travis and he takes Henry with him back to Texas.

Their first stop was at a diner. Henry calls Walt and Anne who are worried sick over where Henry has been. Henry tells them what is happening and he hangs up as they continue their journey to Texas. They go to the bank to wait for Jane. After they spot her they follow her all the way to her job. Travis leaves Henry in the car and goes inside to what seems like some sort of bar, but when Travis heads downstairs he sees booths blocked off by curtains. In these curtains are phones and an operator takes the call and asks for who Travis wants. Travis explains what he wants and Jane wasn't there. He goes to the next booth and there she is. He can't seem to find the words to say until she tries to take her clothes off the Travis tells her to stop. They talk for a moment then Travis starts to berate her for a moment then apologizes when she tries to leave. After a moment of talking Travis leaves to stay the night somewhere with Henry. The next morning Travis puts Henry in a hotel and explains to him that he needs to be with his mother and that he can't be there with her. Travis goes back to Janes work and has another conversation with her this time explaining their life story together as he knew a friend who has had this life. Jane knows who is on the other side of the line and breaks down. Travis tells her that Henry is here and that he is in a hotel waiting for her. He leaves and goes to a parking garage that is outside of the hotel and watches as Jane reunites with Henry. After a moment Travis enters his truck and drives away.

Production [ edit | edit source ]

From the beautiful wide shots to the close ups with deep space, the film Paris, Texas takes a small and minimalistic approach to its production. The film was shot in about 4 to 5 weeks [1] in Texas which originally was not the plan. The film was supposed to be shot around the entire country, but the screenwriter that helped write Paris, Texas Sam Shepard advised Wim Wenders about the vast diversity of land in Texas. [2] The film was going for a minimalistic look. Shot on 35mm the film used a minimal set up with minimal lighting. Most of the outdoor day scenes used natural lighting. With the film being minimalistic the last shot of the film is a 8 minute long take that when it was developed the film reel turned out to be an 1000 feet long [3] that was all dialogue. Wim Winders when showing up for production did not have a shot list for the film so every shot was made up on the spot which adds to the beauty of the film. When going into production Sam Shepard and Wim Wenders had half of the script completed. Through out shooting they would write piece by piece by how the actors were portraying their characters. This meant that the end of the film could have been a completely different ending which all relied on who these characters were. [4]

Color [ edit | edit source ]

When Talking about color we must reference that the film is about American culture. The reason that this is important is the films main color scheme which is red, white, and blue the colors of the American flag [5] . This is seen as a constant throughout the entire film with the sky and wardrobe being the blues and the reds and whites being either wardrobes or set decoration. To wrap up the color scheme there is one color that is prominent throughout the entire film which is the color green. This color is mainly seen through out the lighting but it is also in the set decoration. Green symbolizes envy which is seen through out the entire film. Especially the final scene where Travis is looking at Jane and Hunter through the window and green is lighting up the parking deck. Travis longs for his relationship with Jane and Henry, but in the end he knows he cant have it. Then when Travis drives away in the car there is a red tint which symbolizes freedom knowing that what he did was hard, but he couldn't live the life he wanted.

Long Takes [ edit | edit source ]

As was previously stated in the Production section the long take at the end is pivotal to the story and aesthetics of the film. The long takes in this film help with the pace of the film. This is done very well in the last scene where Travis is talking to Jane for 8 minutes and the camera doesn't move. The audience just sits there taking in all of the emotion not getting the chance to look away from a broken man. The beauty of a long take comes from the preparation and readiness the cast and crew have to have. Having a long take could make your film interesting with some cool camera movement, but in Paris, Texas the long takes are stagnant making the audience sit with their emotions. The long take is a derivative from a type of cinema called slow cinema and Paris, Texas could feel like slow cinema at times with little to no camera movement, minimalistic look, and long takes, but the film never ceases to keep the attention of the audience.

Texture [ edit | edit source ]

Films can have their own textures and feels to them and that is the case with Paris, Texas. At the beginning of the film where Travis wanders Texas alone has a dry feel to the film where there is a lack of water it makes the audience thirsty. The film changes textures through out the movie depending on the location they are in. In the desert it feels dry but when they get to LA it is no longer dry and all of the surfaces feel smooth giving the feel of a safe space. Then when he returns to Texas you can feel that it gets dry again but this time is mostly because of the heat, and the textures are a little more rough.

References [ edit | edit source ]

↑ https://www.premiumbeat.com/blog/cinematography-paris-texas/
↑ https://cinephiliabeyond.org/paris-texas-wim-wenders-film-extraordinary-beauty-irresistibility/
↑ https://faroutmagazine.co.uk/how-paris-texas-almost-ended-differently/
↑ https://generalfeelings.wordpress.com/2015/08/02/colors-paris-texas/

Movie Reviews
Cinema Aesthetics

Paris, Texas movie review & film summary (1984)
Wim Wenders' "Paris, Texas" (1984) is the story of loss upon loss. This man, whose name is Travis, was once married and had a little boy. Then that all went wrong, and he lost his wife and child, and for years he wandered. Now he will find his family and lose it again, this time not through madness but through sacrifice.
Paris, Texas movie review & film summary (1984)
Paris, Texas. Roger Ebert January 01, 1984. Tweet. Travis (Harry Dean Stanton) traverses the American west in Wim Wenders' "Paris, Texas." Now streaming on: Powered by JustWatch. A man walks alone in the desert. He has no memory, no past, no future. He finds an isolated settlement where the doctor, another exile, a German, makes some calls.
Paris, Texas review
Movies. This article is more than 1 year old. Review. Paris, Texas review - Harry Dean Stanton unforgettable in haunting classic. ... Paris, Texas is a beautiful-looking, beautiful-sounding film ...
Paris, Texas
Rated 2/5 Stars • Rated 2 out of 5 stars 03/16/24 Full Review The D I'm not usually into slow, introspectional movies but Paris,Texas is exceptional. Beautifully shot and fantastic acting all round.
My favourite Cannes winner: Paris, Texas
Mon 27 Apr 2015 13.13 EDT. Last modified on Thu 22 Feb 2018 16.29 EST. A ccording to actor Dirk Bogarde - the president of the Cannes competition jury in 1984 - festival bosses were less than ...
PARIS, TEXAS (1984): A Review Of Wim Wenders Masterpiece
Introduction. Wim Wenders tells a powerfully quiet story in Paris, Texas (1984) which impeccably evokes emotion through flawless writing and cinematography. In the film, mysterious circumstances leave Travis Henderson stranded in the desolate deserts of Texas with no recollection of his past. After his brother Walt retrieves and reintroduces ...
Paris, Texas (1984)
Paris, Texas: Directed by Wim Wenders. With Harry Dean Stanton, Sam Berry, Bernhard Wicki, Dean Stockwell. Travis Henderson, an aimless drifter who has been missing for four years, wanders out of the desert and must reconnect with society, himself, his life, and his family.
Paris, Texas (film)
Paris, Texas is a 1984 neo-Western drama road film directed by Wim Wenders, co-written by Sam Shepard and L. M. Kit Carson, and produced by Don Guest.It stars Harry Dean Stanton, Nastassja Kinski, Dean Stockwell, Aurore Clément, and Hunter Carson.In the film, disheveled recluse Travis Henderson (Stanton) reunites with his brother Walt (Stockwell) and son Hunter (Carson).
Paris, Texas
Universal Acclaim Based on 13 Critic Reviews. 81. 77% Positive 10 Reviews. 23% Mixed 3 Reviews. 0% Negative 0 Reviews. All Reviews; ... Paris, Texas is a beautiful, realistic, depressing story, with a master performance by all the cast especially Harry Dean Stanton, Paris, Texas is just become one of my personal favorite and best films of all ...
Paris, Texas
Full Review | Original Score: 10/10 | Sep 30, 2021. Paris, Texas is the cinematic equivalent of a symphony. The film is composed in movements that chart the emotional lives of its characters -- of ...
Paris, Texas (1984) Movie Review
While imperfect in its first act, the story that Wenders tells with his screenwriters in the second and third is one of the most human stories ever told, sure to leave an impact on any audience, which is why this film stands the test of time as one of the greatest ever made.
Paris, Texas (1984)
Paris, Texas, what many consider to be the greatest film from director Wim Wenders, explores the complexity of human relationships, loss, and redemption, underscored by its poignant narrative and atmospheric visual storytelling.At its core, the movie is a study of its protagonist, Travis Henderson (played beautifully by actor Harry Dean Stanton), who navigates the intricate emotional terrain ...
Paris, Texas (1984)
Filter by Rating: 9/10. Masterful. gbill-74877 13 April 2020. Sometimes something happens with a person in your life that is absolutely devastating, your world is completely flattened and you're left adrift, wandering spiritually and unable to relate to anyone else. The desolation of the scenery in this film, the poor run-down towns in Texas ...
Paris, Texas (1984)
New German Cinema pioneer Wim Wenders (Wings of Desire) brings his keen eye for landscape to the American Southwest in Paris, Texas, a profoundly moving character study written by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Sam Shepard. Paris, Texas follows the mysterious, nearly mute drifter Travis (a magnificent Harry Dean Stanton, whose face is a landscape all its own) as he tries to reconnect with ...
'Paris, Texas': Wim Wenders' Film of Extraordinary Beauty and
Watch on. By Sven Mikulec In 1984, one film confidently rode through Cannes, sweeping prizes from all three juries at the most respected film festival in the world. Wim Wenders' Paris, Texas, the visually enticing road film that centers far more on emotion that action, that leans on subtlety and the inner world of its.
Paris, Texas Review
148 minutes. Certificate: 15. Original Title: Paris, Texas. Thusly fabled for its hypnotic beauty and poise, a haunting European gaze across the lonely highways of Texas, Win Wenders masterpiece ...
'PARIS, TEXAS' FROM WIM WENDERS
However, the film, at best, is extremely diluted Sam Shepard. The Cast PARIS, TEXAS, directed by Wim Wenders; written by Sam Shepard; adaptation by L. M. Kit Carson; photography by Robby M"uller ...
Analysis: Paris, Texas
Analysis and review of Paris, Texas, a 1984 film directed by Wim Wenders starring Harry Dean Stanton, written by Sam Shepard and L.M. Kit Carson ... Its director, Wim Wenders, "is attracted to the road movie," according to Roger Ebert in his 2002 "Great Movie" review. In the early 1980s, Wenders sought out the acclaimed playwright and ...
Paris, Texas
Paris, Texas review - Harry Dean Stanton unforgettable in haunting classic. Wim Wenders' iconic vision of American alienation, starring Stanton as a weatherbeaten drifter, has held its mystery ...
PARIS, TEXAS: European Art House Meets The Great American Road Movie In
Especially in its opening moments, Paris, Texas readily evokes a bit of the ruggedness of the Old West. What others might envision as the mystique of America with one of its distinctly original mythologies. It is the kind of imagery at home in a John Ford picture, a director who was himself one of the foremost purveyors of this mythos.. source: 20th Century Fox
Paris, Texas (1984)
After walking through desolate valleys, driving across empty highways, and navigating the claustrophobic indifference of Houston's skyscrapers, the long journey in Wim Wenders' Paris, Texas reaches its destination in a peep show called The Keyhole Club. Inside, a husband and wife, estranged for several years, sit opposite each other, separated by a one-way mirror.
Paris, Texas (1984)
I watch Paris, Texas when I'm curiously nostalgic for the type of loneliness you can feel under the vibrant and the expansive, seemingly endless Texas sky. You don't need a long road trip to ...
Movie Reviews/Paris, Texas
Overview. Paris, Texas is a film written and directed by German director Wim Winders and staring Harry Dean Stanton and Nastassja Kinski. Made in 1984 Paris, Texas is a film about American culture. Considered one of films most artsy and beautiful films, Paris, Texas has a lot going on behind what the film shows us.

movie review paris texas

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Paris, Texas (1984) | The Definitive Explanation

What is Paris, Texas about?

Movie Guide table of contents

The themes and meaning of Paris, Texas

A recap of Paris, Texas ‘s ending

A Tale of Two Parises

Through the Looking Glass

The Silent Farewell

The Rooms that Bind Us

Why is the movie called Paris, Texas ?

Shared isolation and loneliness

The illusion of idealized love

Finding redemption

The two-way mirror

Hotel rooms

The Photo of Paris, Texas

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