Hal Hartley

Whatever its charms as a celebration of “the empty page,” of the pauses at the end of poetic phrases which allow the mind to wander into the poet’s head, or in this case — into films similar in tone and tenor — “Tree’s Lounge,” “Factotum,” “Henry Fool” — I was desperate for any hint of Jarmusch’s droll wit, for the humor of “Mystery Train,” “Night on Earth,” “Broken Flowers” or “Coffee and Cigarettes.”