You could say the film was desperately in search of John Lurie, and by fate even found him. Buddhist punk. The psychedelic free jazz with chimes and gongs, creates this sense of the ancient across the film, contrasts his total emptiness such as yo'yoing across the street, raising the banal and minuteness of mankind into some aimless grandeur. The currency seems to be who trades in absurd monologues. I thought punk rock--till the other review said No Wave, and sure enough that was a thing; how adorable that American cinema once had movements. Closing shot is great and why some say directors never surpass their first film. NYC there is a mirage, immense, packed, and crammed, nothing more than an extension of his mind. Surreal with these waters flowing straight to the city as if they're built from the ocean. With the haunting free jazz, suddenly the metaphor payoff of an entire film, has not only managed to interpret the city and its inhabitants but manages to gobble up the entire collective as the conclusion of this non-story. Of course the whole film is a total failure of generation X aimlessness, but the end shot made me think the failure was larger, not personal.
Review of Permanent Vacation
