Jim Jarmusch’s latest film, “The Limits of Control,” has been categorized as a thriller, and I’m not really sure why. You see, to qualify for that genre, not only does there need to be some kind of underlying tension in the story, but an actual story needs to exist. There are crumbs of plot development scattered throughout – something to do with a man (Isaach De Bankolé) sent to Spain on a secret mission – but it goes nowhere fast as the audience is forced to watch him perform menial tasks like sleeping, meditating, and waiting around for his next contact. All of the people he meets with greet him the same way, and one of them – a lustful woman played by Paz de la Huerta – is completely naked throughout, seemingly for no particular reason other than to tempt Bankolé’s reserved assassin. This has to be one of the dullest films ever made. Jarmusch isn’t so much telling a story as basking in the beauty of Spain, and though Christopher Doyle’s cinematography is as gorgeous as ever, it’s the film’s only redeeming trait. Falling somewhere between “Coffee and Cigarettes” and “Ghost Dog” in tone, “The Limits of Control” is simply too pretentious for its own good. You’d be wise to keep the remote nearby for this one, because you’ll be fast-forwarding more than you’d like to admit.

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Wong Kar Wai isn’t the first filmmaker to go back and fix one of his earlier movies, but it is the first time that it’s happened on a film as insignificant as “Ashes of Time.” Though it makes sense to want to improve a movie that didn’t necessarily work during its initial release (as opposed to Francis Ford Coppola and George Lucas, who meddled with films that were already considered perfect), “Ashes of Time” remains a colossal disappointment for fans of the director. Constructed as a broken narrative of flashbacks, the film stars Leslie Cheung as Ouyang Feng, a lovesick hitman who wanders the desert hiring swordsmen to carry out contract killings. For as interesting as that may sound, however, “Ashes of Time” is the cinematic equivalent to watching paint dry. The performances are fine and Christopher Doyle’s cinematography is beautiful as usual, but the film is so boring, lackadaisical and drenched in philosophical narration that you might just find yourself dosing off. Many would argue that all of Wong Kar Wai’s movies operate the same way, and while that may be true, they usually always win you over with some combination of grace and charm. “Ashes of Time” does not, and though it’s been dubbed as a martial arts epic, it’s really just another love story dressed to look like one.

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