Paris, Texas: A Road Trip Like No Other

Paris, Texas. A film that’s somehow as airy as a rolling tumbleweed through the American desert, yet heavy enough to make you ponder life as you sip on your midsommar saft. Directed by Wim Wenders, this 1984 flick has Harry Dean Stanton—who deserves a standing ovation if you ask me—wandering around the desolate landscapes of America. And then there’s Nastassja Kinski with her magnetic gaze, makes you wonder if you’re being seen right through.

I remember watching it for the first time a cold november evening. The rain was tapping against the window, and I was curled up in a chair, wrapped in grandma’s old quilt. Something about the loneliness and the search for connection struck my Stockholm heart. Felt like an American road movie but with a touch of Swedish melancholy.

Stanton plays Travis, a bloke who shows up after being missing in action for four years, wandering through the Texan wastelands, barely saying a word. But oh my, when he finally does speak, you’re hanging onto every syllable like it’s your last sourdough crispbread.

The cinematography captures vast, empty landscapes, filling your screen with both wonder and a bit of existential dread. It’s a film that Fanny and Alexander’s Ingmar Bergman would probably have nodded approvingly at—if you ask me—especially with that hauntingly beautiful score by Ry Cooder plucking away in the background.

And let’s not forget the script by Sam Shepard. Brings out themes of redemption and reconciliation without spoon-feeding you like mor ösättningar-style. It’s raw and real, just like a good cup of black Swedish coffee, no frills.

If you fancy a film that drips with emotion and is as contemplative as a Swedish winter’s night, Paris, Texas ticks the boxes. Just don’t expect quick answers, most things in life don’t serve them easy, right?

Check the trailer below