Two ancient vampire - Eva (Tilda Swinton) and Adam (Tom Hiddleston) live in different parts of the world (it is in Morocco, he - in Detroit), love each other, traveling first class and aestheticism in his own way. People they despise and called zombies, though they stopped to eat. But each of them has its own supply chains of fresh blood in the face of familiar vampires. In the case of Eve is neither more nor less, and the poet and playwright Christopher Marlowe of the XVI century (John Hurt), better known as one of the alleged authors of the works of Shakespeare. In addition, Adam has a deft trouble-free one, and Eve - sister rock out with insatiable bloodlust (Mia Wasikowska).
That's all. The story, of course, get some development and something even happens with the characters, but do not forget that it's still Jarmusch, which may cause the viewer to enjoy a half hour selflessly ridiculous ridiculous characters talk over a cup of coffee and a cigarette. In "Lovers" at first, too, offers simply admire: views on top of the maze eastern streets, which confidently walks with casual luxury dressed heroine, artistic trash and fabulously expensive guitar hero, gentle dialogues long dead, but still in love with each other people, countless cultural allusions and irony over by the genre.
Once published almost 5 years ago, "The Limits of Control," which critics and audiences and choir director named in failure, as if Jarmusch has returned to himself. "Lovers" - a characteristic of a film-lace, in which exquisite drawing each frame and piercing close-ups much more important it is expected plot twists, meaning and morality.
Over the past decade the vampire theme in the movie so well-worn and soaked teenage girl's tears that Dracula himself fit to drive a wooden stake. And from this point of view, the choice of theme Jarmusch after a long silence may seem a bit risky. However, the skill does not spend on drink, and his duty genre director gives a touch of traditional vampire aesthetics, while not devoid of stylization and cynical references to stereotypes.
Probably, "Lovers" would have remained pretty sad tale of love, if not deadly fatigue, skvozyaschaya in every gesture and every phrase of the main characters. This age-old weariness and longing found its material embodiment in a small pool of rare wood. It can be assumed that the bullet was intended Jarmusch, the director, and if so, then let it lie down until somewhere pigeonholed some abandoned apartment in Detroit.