Marion Naccache

A giant pot is ascending from the sky. Twenty winsome damsels are landing on planet earth, coming out of the pot filled with two-hundred and eighty pounds of spaghetti. A battle for sauce and survival ensues.

We're alone in a car with the director and Tom Jarmusch, Jim's brother, who tells us stories — about the 1990s, about the city, about cinema — as we drive through New York.

Dawn in Venice Beach, California. Every morning, the homeless living by the beach wake up and have to tidy up the space where they spend the night. As the sun slowly rises, their voices express their views of the world. Every morning, as in a Sisyphean play, it looks as if nothing has changed. Every morning, little by little, the neighbourhood by the sea they call home and the country are changing in strange and terrifying ways.

We're alone in a car with the director and Tom Jarmusch, Jim's brother, who tells us stories — about the 1990s, about the city, about cinema — as we drive through New York.

We're alone in a car with the director and Tom Jarmusch, Jim's brother, who tells us stories — about the 1990s, about the city, about cinema — as we drive through New York.

Dawn in Venice Beach, California. Every morning, the homeless living by the beach wake up and have to tidy up the space where they spend the night. As the sun slowly rises, their voices express their views of the world. Every morning, as in a Sisyphean play, it looks as if nothing has changed. Every morning, little by little, the neighbourhood by the sea they call home and the country are changing in strange and terrifying ways.