One of the most exciting aspects of going to school in NYC is the artistry and magic behind the film industry here. As a film enthusiast, filmmaker, and actor myself, I have always believed that although the industry lies in Los Angeles, that the heart of indie, unique, and distinctive voices lies here. Being in the same environment where legends like Scorsese, Bob Dylan, Al Pacino, Spike Lee, and Robert De Niro stepped foot in and marked their paths inspires me everyday as an artist, but more importantly makes me want to forge my own path and my own artistic process. 

When I arrived in NYC to start classes, the first thing I set out to do was to visit the historic and iconic IFC Cinemas in the West Village. Upon seeing it I felt transformed. Despite having been in New York a few times before, I had never gotten a chance to explore it through my love for art, and even just seeing felt magical until now. They were doing a showing of Paris, Texas, a film that absolutely floored me the first time I watched it due to its philosophical richness and emotional depth. I decided that that would be the first film I would watch in New York City, and I couldn’t have chosen a better film to set the stage for such a monumental chapter in my life – the first year of college; away from home. 

What captures me about Paris, Texas is the striking portrayal of what it’s like to be on a search to find yourself, to see what your place in the world is and why it’s meaningful. The protagonist, Travis, is introduced to the audience as an amnesiac who is lost, wandering the desert alone without any idea of who his past self entailed. The film shows the journey he faces in reconstructing his life, but more importantly, how the choices he makes as he finds himself are different from those of the man he abandoned. It touches on a core belief of Jean Paul-Satre, that existence precedes essence; that the choices you make and reasoning behind them are what determines your destiny. Essentially, we are all born with a Tabula Rasa, or a blank slate. There could not be a moment that is more deserving of this ideology than going to college. When we enter college, we can all be a blank slate. You don’t have to be the same exact person you were in high school, and the choices you make while in college are what often set yourself up for what can be a very rewarding and fulfilling life.

As an artist and especially someone pursuing a fine arts degree, I think that we are all blank slates. We are all trying to find not only what motivates us to create art, but also our own niche and our own style of artistry. “I think college can be an opportunity where your art will grow, flourish, and expand beyond your very eyes with the help of your education and the people you meet. Even for non-artists or people who enjoy art as more of a hobby, this idea can be put into practice in careers. We are trying to find what makes us good at what we are, what makes us want to pursue what we are pursuing, and more importantly we are exploring who we are as people. 

Another aspect of Paris, Texas that I find is worth mentioning is its ideas regarding time, memory, and space. Director Wim Wenders uses a variety of open, vast shots, where the characters are seen as miniscule behind the scenery of the American west. This choice is intentional, as is any choice a filmmaker makes in the creation of their films, but what makes this such a valuable choice is the statement it makes about our place in the world. Arguably we are only a very small fraction of history, of the world, of time.

Like Travis at the start of the film, we are immediately subjected to being in the vast, empty, and almost liminal south Texan desert, leading us to feel the same confusion as him. After he gets reunited with his brother and begins his journey to find his ex-wife, the closer he gets to the city and urbanization the more his memories start to return back to him. Paris. Texas not only evokes the fact that memory keeps us all grounded, but also suggests that time can reshape itself. We can’t necessarily forget our past, but maybe we don’t have to. Being able to self-reflect and grow from our past, while also keeping the value in the memories that matter is a lesson that I think anyone should take from this film, and also this important stage in life. In a city like New York, you can almost feel as isolated and stuck with your own thoughts as if you were in the desert, but being able to use those moments with yourself and feel connected to what feels like home is often what gives us the motivation to keep going towards our goals and dreams. 

What left me most in awe after exiting the theatre during this showing was the ending of the film. On the big screen, there is absolutely nothing like it. The green light on the empty parking lot roof that overlooks the twilight sky, seeing Travis leave his child with Jane after he finally tracked her down, and ending with him being alone once again is more open to interpretation than I can think of.

The main thing that I find powerful about the ending is the idea of space, silence, and letting go. The fact that he lets Jane and their son go off, without his physical intervention, shows the way in which internal redemption doesn’t always end in a “happily ever after.” He acknowledges that his past self did harm, and rather than go back, he decides that keeping space between them is the best course of action he could take, but leaves satisfied in his ability to fix something. His transformation and character growth was introspective, and despite being left in the same physical predicament that he started (alone, wandering, a nomad), he isn’t who he was at the start of the film because he remembers his past. In more ways than one, I think this is reflective of how I see my college journey. Wenders captures brilliantly the weight that lies within silence, within solitude, within goodbyes, and within starting over, and similarly, college can feel like that too. You are learning your place in the world, you are saying goodbye to a life that you can’t completely go back to, and you are learning to become your very best company. College forces you to confront the idea of who you think you are, and will lead you to grow inwardly and internally, rather than it being a big, climactic moment. 

Change can be scary, college can be scary, even being alone can be scary. But it doesn’t always have to be. Change can lie in what feels familiar and can push us to new corners if we let it.

By Avril Walter

Avril Walter is a Sophomore at New York University, majoring in Drama and Cinema Studies. Coming from an Argentinian background, she loves anything related to futbol, steak, and dulce de leche. When she is not in class, she can be found playing the violin, running, cooking, or at the movie theatre.

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