This is a film to clear the palette. The mundane consistency it presents provides a release that's almost heart-breaking. Paterson's character is small and fragile as much as the city. He is an undiscovered beauty, trapped in the middle of a world growing in distractions and loud repetitions.

His wife is unlikeable as she should be. She is everything the outside world-- outside of Paterson-- is. And Paterson, the character, clings to her gently as a mild attempt to keep himself awake, or to keep himself above water. Not to lose himself too much in the pages that he both loves and fears.

The pages had to be destroyed. They couldn't be anything beyond what they are, and they should not leave Paterson. To duplicate them, to translate them, to mimic them is a de-service to their purity.

This is a film to watch alone, when the sun is rising, and the room is quiet.