This film is Wim Wenders' own anti-Wenders movie, a self-commentary on (even great) overblown moviemaking. After years of making increasingly larger and more grandiose (though excellent) films, with Lisbon Story, Wenders has made a film as much about quiet and reflection as about image.
It's a refreshing exception to most of film as a media, which is driven almost entirely by image, and sometimes leaves our other senses by the wayside.
Seen through the eyes (or more rather heard through the ears) of the main character (a sound and sound effects engineer) we hear, see, and feel Lisbon.
And we see that Wim Wenders can make a small and intimate movie as well as Until the End of the World. This film is slow by Hollywood standards, but slow like a long soak in a hot tub, not something you would want to go any faster.
It's a refreshing exception to most of film as a media, which is driven almost entirely by image, and sometimes leaves our other senses by the wayside.
Seen through the eyes (or more rather heard through the ears) of the main character (a sound and sound effects engineer) we hear, see, and feel Lisbon.
And we see that Wim Wenders can make a small and intimate movie as well as Until the End of the World. This film is slow by Hollywood standards, but slow like a long soak in a hot tub, not something you would want to go any faster.