Why is it when nothing supposedly happens (during the mundane, the routine, the regular), we assume that art can't be found? Paterson - both the film and the man in the film - are able to find the poetry in the mundane and value it just for being.
You know what's cool? Rock and roll music. Sloths. Jim Jarmusch. Kristen Sales espouses the coolness of all of these things, but it is primarily with Jim Jarmusch, the New York City-based musician/filmmaker with whom she is concerned during her second appearance on IDMB. She discusses how he's a dying breed of indie filmmaker, whether he's really as cool as he looks or really just a nerd (or both), and what is so quintessentially American about his work before recommending these three titles: Paterson (2016), Dead Man (1995), and Mystery Train (1989).
Shakespeare isn't Jim's forte. But it was Welles's forte and when one is so passionate about a subject and so immensely talented when it comes to conveying it, then some of that passion and appreciation is going to translate no matter what.
Buried somewhere within The Stranger is a great film. Unfortunately, due to the meddling of editor Ernest J. Nims we'll only ever get to see this pretty good version of The Stranger. Still, "pretty good" Orson Welles leaves gives us a lot to admire and appreciate, like how so many long takes actually adds value and importance to editing.
Tyler Smith rejoins IDMB to discuss the films of Orson Welles, who was actually quite a famous filmmaker (Citizen Kane, Touch Evil) before he voiced Unicron and was parodied on The Critic. Tyler makes the case for why Welles is and was an essential and path-paving filmmaker, hypothesizes why studio interference makes it difficult to define what "an Orson Welles film" means, and explains why he's not recommending either Kane or Touch of Evil before recommending The Stranger (1946), Chimes at Midnight (1965), and F for Fake (1973).