Director Jim Jarmusch with Adam Driver and Golshifteh Farahani

One of those films where practically nothing happens. (The one potentially dramatic incident is over in seconds and was not as life-threatening as it seemed at first.) It’s a week in the life of a bus driver called Paterson living in the town of Paterson – one of many mirrorings/twinnings in the film. He drives the same route every day, overhears conversations, writes poetry in a notebook and admires William Carlos Williams – who also wrote an epic poem, “Paterson”, about the city.

The film is a kind of poetic depiction of ordinary life as experienced by kindly, gentle people. They have their pleasures, their interests and their dreams which may never be fulfilled but are nonetheless fulfilling. The camera moves slowly and I had to rein in any impatience. Paterson’s (unimpressive) poems are an essential part of him – just as painting everything black and white is important to his wife. Theirs is a very loving, gentle relationship; her ambitions are a bit flaky (cup cake queen or country and western singer? . . . decisions, decisions), but she is not unsuccessful. The dog (who deserves his own Oscar) destroys Paterson’s notebook of poems, and for a while there is a sense of loss – until a chance encounter sets him back on his path.

In many ways it’s a film that transcends the quotidian life it depicts – like Perfect Days or Nomadland. Unlike some films – I’m thinking of Jeanne Dielman – there seemed to be no underlying ideology/political message. It wasn’t a Ken Loach film about a bus driver. It was about ordinary people and their relationships with other ordinary people and the world around them.