Jim Jarmusch
Paterson

The protagonists are a young couple from another galaxy: two people and a dog live a life so simple, flat, and minimal that in some ways they resemble the works of Kaurismaki without reaching their heights. Paterson works as a bus driver in the city of Paterson, USA, and in his spare time writes poetry. Sloppy, ridiculous childlike compositions that he jealously guards in a notebook for no reason. The wife is even worse because she chirps all the time with a voice that induces instant diabetes and has an overwhelming and unjustified enthusiasm for any trivial banality. She naïvely, perhaps guided by her female instinct, dominates the husband who adores and worships her. They seem like adult bodies stuck in the minds of six-year-olds who still believe in Santa Claus. The dog is certainly the most human character, trying in vain to break the routine and bring them back to planet Earth.

118 minutes (a duration at the limit of legality) of innocence, sweetness, and poetry. We spend a week with these two aliens, and by Wednesday I already wanted to gouge their eyes out with a rounded-tip knife to try to make them see reality. An incredible bore, especially for an average person like me who needs a bit of action, healthy violence, a pair of boobs, and some swearing. Z-E-R-O.

I suffered, but I liked it. It invites us to appreciate every small and tiny triviality of daily life, to cultivate passions regardless of the results, to be less cynical and realistic, and to not give a damn about people's judgments. It's an extreme fairy tale but one that makes sense. Having a pinch of naivety and simplicity can help us survive.