 A film in three minutes down by law. Jim Jarmusch is perhaps the archetypical author, filmmaker of American independent cinema. From his groundbreaking comedy Stranger Than Paradise to the gentle tragic drama of Broken Flowers, Jarmusch's films were once described by film critic Roger Ebert as being embedded with nostalgia, shabby sadness, and visual beauty. Words that could easily be used to describe his 1986 masterpiece Down by Law. Arguably the quintessential Jarmusch film for long-time fans of his work, as well as the best introduction to his craft for first-time viewers. The story follows the exploits of three men, Zack, a jaded, unaccomplished local DJ in New Orleans, played by Tom Waits, Jack, a pimp played by John Laurie, and Roberto, an Italian tourist who is imprisoned for manslaughter, played by Roberto Benini. Zack and Jack are both individually framed for a crime that neither man committed, and are forced to share a jail cell with Roberto, where the three bond, despite their tragic circumstance, and eventually hatch a daring plan to escape. Unlike with most prison films, Down by Law focuses less on the actual event of the breakout and more about the relationships each character has with one another. The hatred that Zack has for Jack and vice versa eventually erodes away thanks in part to the unbearable happiness of Roberto, whose lack of self-awareness and constantly upbeat attitude stands out in contrast with the countless doom situations the three find themselves in. The film was Benini's first outside of his native Italy, and its success would propel him to superstardom years later. In typical Jarmuschian fashion, scenes of the three men bickering and arguing can seem to go on forever, and are typically shot and edited with a minimalist approach. Photographed by longtime Jarmusch collaborator Robbie Mueller, the filthy, broken-down streets of New Orleans to the seedy, swampy Louisiana bayous are shot in stunningly beautiful black and white, which ironically gives the film more colour and character than if it were shot embracing the full colour spectrum. Mueller's slow camerawork is unobtrusive, very much acting like a fly on the wall, silently bearing witness to the quirkiness of each character as they complain, plot, and scheme against each other. The film's score, composed by Laurie himself, perfectly encapsulates the murky world of the Deep South with its scattershot symbols and hauntingly moody harmonica melodies enhancing Mueller's stark visuals. For those unfamiliar with his work, Dan by Law is, in my mind, the best introduction to Jarmusch's unique and unusual style of filmmaking. His strongly held independent streak allows him the creative freedom to make movies on his own terms, with the world of Law being no exception. Its characters and the relationships they have with one another act as a reminder of just how original the director's uvra is, as well as how malleable American independent cinema can be and forces me to agree with Roberto's atherism that it's a sad and beautiful world, because in Jarmusch's hands, it truly is.