Conversely, there are glimpses of America, much like we see in Wenders' own Alice in the Cities (1974), but these seem strangely alien and forced. B encounters a man, played by none other than Sting, who lives in a caravan close to the spot where Eddie Cochran died in a car crash in 1960. He sings "Three Steps To Heaven," but the juxtaposition of the song to the setting of a quiet road outside the village of Chippenham reduces it to the absurd. Later on, B admires the lines of a vintage Cadillac and sits in it, only to be told "it doesn't suit you." When he drinks - swigging from a can of Guinness at the wheel, a hip flask on a seaside pier, or a solitary pint in a pub - he lacks the cool sheen of Hollywood's alcoholic anti-heroes.
If B lacks cinematic cool, then he is also lacking in many other respects; his detachment from any kind of emotional response, whether the death of his brother, the affections of a beautiful woman, or being beaten up in a pub position him closer to the Mersault of Camus' L'Etranger than any of the Kafka protagonists his name would suggest. His very blankness does render him lacking in a certain degree of sympathy, though it does allow him to be a cipher to explore other characters' behaviors and attitudes. He, like the film, appears to have come from nothing, and does not appear to lead towards anything.
One scene, and in particular one song, lingers more than others. A pub jukebox plays Wreckless Eric's "Whole Wide World" almost in its entirety, while B just sits down and slowly finishes his pint. What does it mean? Seemingly nothing. The song, incidentally, is one of the greatest to emerge from the punk period, a deceptively simple song about being lonely but spurred on by hopes however impossible. Perhaps it offers a key to this film about trying to find something, but not knowing what that thing is or where to go about finding it.
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