The long and tedious train journey, from the East, is almost a film in itself. It commences with a carriage full of finely dressed folks, then a little while later William awakes to find that his travelling companions have become slightly more scruffy (although they're still people he can identify with). However, his fellow passengers are definitely steadily deteriorating. William is sure that he's reached the end of the line when the entire compartment of bearded, dirty and unidentifiable men jump to their feet and start blasting at the buffalo grazing by the rail tracks. The town of Machine is scarcely more welcoming, particularly with the doom-laden words of the train fireman (Crispin Glover) ringing in his ears. Luckily Dickinson's factory appears like a beacon of hope in this wilderness.
Sadly such optimism is ill-founded, which might almost be expected when you realise that William's letter is two months old. The chief clerk John Scholfield (John Hurt) takes some pleasure in pointing out that the vacancy has long since been filled, leaving William in the lurch. He may have spent every penny getting to Machine but that cuts no ice with John Dickinson (Robert Mitchum). For an innocent like William to be stranded here (and in such an awful suit) is pretty soul-destroying but at least flower girl Thel Russell (Mili Avital) takes pity on him. Cruelly this just allows William to shoot Charlie Dickinson (Gabriel Byrne), the treasured son, before taking up with an Indian called Nobody (Gary Farmer). Not an ordinary Western.
The charms of Dead Man take time to reveal themselves but when they do - stand back, the cumulative effect is staggering. This is no asphyxiating wham-bam action flick but a piece altogether more sublime, a complete melding of image, sound and atmosphere. The first aspect of this triumvirate concerns the superbly luminous, textured cinematography. To see the depth, shades and dynamic range made possible by Robby Muller is to feel like weeping at the sheer beauty of it all (and realise the flatness of many films). Each sunbeam, tree-trunk and glitter from William's eye-glasses stands out from, and yet fits in with, the whole. The sparse, almost one-note, score from Neil Young pulls off the trick of seamlessly fading into the background, evoking appropriate feelings when necessary. This is a powerful combination of sound and light.
All of this loveliness would be for nothing without characters and narrative. Jarmusch doesn't disappoint, building a transcendental atmosphere via masterful use of great roles and empty space. William, at the centre of everything and searching for a way to die, is fantastically portrayed by Depp. A slight expression or intonation speaks volumes in his capable hands, while the transformation of William never appears less than believable. Depp really seems to be getting better with every film. Not that the other roles are poorly played, because they're not (especially Gary Farmer). Every actor emerges from Dead Man well, aided by great but minimal dialogue. After viewing Dead Man you too will believe in bounty hunters cuddling teddy-bears and behaving as stupidly as anyone else - but be prepared to work for this insight.