Jim Jarmusch‘s modus operandi has always been one of creating the unexpected. And like all great auteurs he has a few signatures moves up his sleeve; meta narratives, casting musicians (Tom Waits, Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, Joe Strummer) and a line up of recurring faces, from Steve Buscemi to Bill Murray and Tilda Swinton.

In the early 1980s, Jarmusch immersed himself in New York’s underground music scene, playing keyboard in places like CBGB and the Mudd Club with a No Wave band called The Del-Byzanteens. Soon he became deeply influenced by the spirit of punk rock. “The aesthetics of that scene really gave me the courage to make films,” the director later recalled . “It was not about virtuosity. It was about expression.”

That mentality fed into his film-making work. With it’s basis in unorthodox subversion, Jarmusch’s cinematic output bends the boundaries between reality and fantasy, creating a world entirely his own.

A one man movie making machine, Jarmusch’s prolific catalogue of  work is a mindfuck of the highest acclaim. Trace his dazzling career with a brief run through of his five defining films. And then watch them all one after the other. What better way to spend a day?

Mystery Train (1989):
Set in Memphis – home of The King, Elvis Presley – Mystery Train is an ode to the city, in all it’s bedraggled beauty.

As with many of Jarmusch’s films, the narrative follows multiple stories, three stories glancingly connected. The characters in all three check in, more or less by chance, at the same hotel. This hotel is on life support, ready to collapse in at any moment.

And what brings these people to the hotel? Jun and Mitzuko, two aloof, teenage Japanese tourists, are on a rock and roll pilgrimage. They share earphones plugged into the same Walkman. She loves Elvis. He’s a purist, preferring Carl Perkins. With one suitcase suspended on a pole between them, they wander the streets belonging to this iconic US ghost town, visiting iconic venues such as Graceland and Sun Studio.

In the following segment we are introduced to Luisa, who having come to Memphis from Italy to pick up a coffin containing her husband’s dead body, meets a con artist who tries to panhandle her with that old story about the guy who picked up a hitchhiker outside of Memphis. (A hitchhiker who wanted to be dropped off at…Graceland. Guess who?) Then Luisa’s followed on the street by three young men, and darts into the hotel. In the lobby she meets Dee Dee, frightened, happy to share a room for the night. We find out later why she’s scared and why she’s heading for Nanchez in the morning. From another room, they hear a gunshot.

In the third story, set in a pool hall named Shades, a Brit named Johnny (played by the late Clash frontman Joe Strummer, no less) slicks his hair and sideburns so artfully that everyone calls him “Elvis.” Johnny is getting drunk with his brother-in-law Will Robinson, and produces a gun. Terrified, Will calls Johnny’s best friend Charlie before they end up cruising the streets and ending up at the same hotel as the other protagonists.

Night On Earth (1991):
Five different taxis in five different cities, yet all taking place during the same night. Jarmusch’s fourth commercially released feature Night On Earth examines the relationship between man (or woman) and taxi driver. Two strangers sharing a journey, but with contrasting motives.

In Los Angeles, chain-smoking taxi driver Corky (played by Winona Ryder, with mega cult appeal) picks up movie agent Rowlands and inadvertently persuades her she’d be right for a role Rowlands is casting. In New York, the cabby is perhaps the worst driver in the city. In Paris, he faces discrimination before picking up a blind woman; in Rome it’s that driver who never stops talking; and finally we arrive in Helsinki just before dawn, where the driver swaps sob stories with a trio of drunken men.

Having wrote the screenplay in just 8 days, Jarmusch perfectly nailed that blend of dark wit and psyche exploration he is synonymous for.

Dead Man (1995):
Jarmusch’s downbeat acid western Dead Man contains all the traits needed for an instant cult classic: a Wild West narrative, indie black and white aesthetics, and a young Johnny Depp in the prime of his acting career (we won’t mention The Lone Ranger if you don’t).

The plot traces Depp’s character, William Blake (not that one), who ventures westward by train to the dystopian town of Machine in search of work, but ends up getting a whole lot more than he bargained for.

With Neil Young’s hypnotic minimalist score and Jarmusch’s typically deadpan rhythms perfectly harmonised, Dead Man is a ‘prime position’ necessity for any film collection.

Coffee and Cigarettes (2003):
How do you know when a film is 100% worth watching? Well how about when it’s cast list boasts names such as Steve Buscemi, Iggy Pop, Tom Waits, Cate Blanchett, Steven Wright, Meg White, Jack White, Alfred Molina, Steve Coogan, GZA, RZA Bill Murray, William Rice and Taylor Mead.

Impressed? Well you should be. So just how does Jarmusch manage to cram all these diverse names into one movie? Here’s the basis, the film consists of 11 short stories which each show unexpected combinations of actors/musicians/artists sharing coffee and cigarettes. Simple.

Watch out for the segment starring Tom Waits and Iggy Pop ‘Somewhere in California’. Having agreed that they have given up smoking, they smoke – which is OK, they agree, as long as they’ve given it up. You can’t argue with logic like that, nor would you argue with these two musical heavyweights.

Only Lovers Left Alive (2013):
Jarmusch’s latest film to hit the cinemas sees him get his vamp on. Starring Tom Hiddlestone and Tilda Swinton as Adam and Eve, two vampires with a deep affinity for vinyl, literature, and an addictive thirst for blood, engaged in a centuries-old love affair.

Shot digitally — a first for Jarmusch – the film’s impeccably stylish approach combines retro-chic aesthetic and analogue era rock, resulting in a catalogue of instantly iconic scenes that highlight Jarmusch’s malleable eye. Vampire romanticism never looked so good.