As long as you accept that it's a sleepy, quirky little do-nothing independent by eccentric brainiac-auteur Jim Jarmusch, you'll be just fine.
If, on the other hand, you have high expectations whatsoever about it being a large, somewhat fundamental or mainstream studio production with fancy FX, you shall be sorely disappointed.
I like Jim, but you have to take him for who he is. He loves long, slow shots that extend several beats beyond awkwardness, unorthodox actors who relish standing in lines kibitzing like Hank and da boys from Mike Judge's King of the Hill, and simple, cinematic stillness that makes the Coen Brothers' Fargo look like Disney's epochal, action-oriented Star Wars.
Jarmusch's universe is populated by unique goofballs including Bill Murray, Adam Driver, Chloë Sevigny, Tilda Swinton, Steve Buscemi, Caleb Landry Jones, Iggy Pop, Carol Kane, RZA, and Tom Waits who pass for 'regular folk,' when we know darn well they ain't, no more than David Bowie was.
Everyone—and everything—feels alien here, and as far as I'm concerned, that's welcomed now and again, especially in a world that paints with black, white, or rainbow when so much is rather gray.
p.s. Country swooner Sturgill Simpson contributed the catchy title track (which you'll get to hear five or six times). Pay attention, though, and you'll see he also makes a cameo in which he drags a guitar tied around his ankle.
All this oddness is standard Jarmusch fare...just another day at the office and/or par for the course.
Imbibe and enjoy!
