American Highways, American Deserts: An Essay on “Paris, Texas”

“Paris, Texas” is a portrait of a man who has exerted all his rage. In his 1984 film, Wim Wenders explores protagonist Travis Henderson’s (Harry Dean Stanton) search for family, love, and identity. When Travis’s brother (Dean Stockwell) finds Travis wandering alone through the Texas desert, it is the first time anyone has seen Travis in years. Travis abandoned his son (Hunter Carson) and wife (Nastassja Kinski) four years prior to the events of the film without any plan or explanation. His brother, Walt, has been taking care of Hunter. Travis is found in the Texas wasteland sunburnt, mute and barely conscious. 

Travis Henderson is a man we meet broken, devoid of both anger and love. He is now nothing, a shell of a person, so much so to the point that he does not even speak. His life has become so tragic that he cannot change it, he has no choice but to leave it. This isn’t suicide, but instead a sort of social disassociation. His troubles were not with the people around him, they were him. Staying would hurt both himself and the ones he loved. What he does not seem to understand is that silence can be just as painful as harsh words, and his absence was more damaging than he could imagine. His choice was primal, inexplicable, one driven by intense fear and confusion. It may have been better than the alternative, possibly preventing something worse. 

What may be the most upsetting part of this story is learning the explicit details pertaining to Travis’s abandonment of his family, alcoholism and domestic abuse. Initially, this seems so crushing because we spend the whole film giving Travis our sympathy. Being the protagonist, we instinctively emotionally attach ourselves to him, maybe because a small part of us continues to feel for Travis. But this is not the whole reason. The true reason is because we always knew. Yes, these are the first explicit details we hear, but we knew. We knew he married someone too young for him, we knew he abandoned her and his son. We knew this could not have produced such unfortunate results unless Travis had done something horrible. And we feel for him regardless, even though deep down, it was there all along. 

So why do we care? He has committed unspeakable acts, and yet can still win us over. He is regret personified, but he is hope that we can move past our mistakes and become different people. Even though he may not deserve our affection, he gets it. Travis exists upon the raw, human desire to hope for the best in others. To hope that others are truly good. And maybe if we can forgive Travis, we can forgive ourselves. 

Around halfway through the film, Travis tells his son Hunter that he had a positive relationship with his family, but there was a tension between his parents that he could not put his finger on for years. His father was not a bad man, but was superficial. His father wanted a “fancy woman,” and he would go so far as to inadvertently mock his wife by saying he met her in Paris, only to reveal that it was in fact Paris, Texas. 

While Travis’s brother Walt seems to be stable in his adulthood, Travis appears to have taken on some of his father’s insecurities in relation to masculinity and love. His father was obsessed with appearances and was willing to put down his wife to feed his insecurities. Travis is controlling and paranoid in love, another kind of insecurity. He is constantly in fear that his wife, Jane, will leave him. 

Travis’s father also, of course, has an effect on how he deals with his son. The only difference being that Travis is more mature when he has to deal with fatherhood. Moments of his inherited insecurities poke out, but as his relationship with his son develops throughout the film, he treats him with a level of respect that is implied to be new to his character. This does not change the things he did, but being with Hunter and his family allows Travis to grow into a kinder and more loving person. 

The film is composed almost entirely of highways and deserts with very little in between. The highways are loud and jarring. The sound design allows the cars to dominate over any conversation being had near the road. The highways are almost a character in the film, completely inescapable no matter where you turn. Their presence shows director Wim Wenders, a German native, taking note of excessive American industrialization. Contrastingly, the landscapes in the film are quiet and peaceful, and Travis seems to be the only person who appreciates that. Whether or not Travis was looking for Paris, Texas, or any other location, it is clear that in the beginning of the film he had some sort of tranquility that came from walking in the desert without distraction. 

The contrast between the highways and open land is representative of the relationship between Travis and Jane. The highways are representative of when the two were together. Loud, unpleasant to be around and resulting in turmoil. That is not to say there are no advantages, but it feels overwhelming and unsustainable. The undeveloped land represents Travis being alone. It is quiet and peaceful. There is a tremendous somberness that comes from it, but also a tremendous beauty. It isn’t necessarily better, it is quite lonely. It’s scary in a sense, the lack of people. But it is calm and undisturbed.

This is not a film that asks for your sympathy, just as Travis Henderson does not ask for the love of his wife or son in the film’s conclusion. He is a character that is easy to dismiss as a bad person. But in “Paris, Texas” it isn’t that simple. Because in life it never is.