Jim Jarmusch (“Mystery Train”, “Dead Man”) is a smart filmmaker, and his new movie is so original, that I wish I liked it more. I was fascinated by its premise at first, about two vampires (Tom Hiddleston and Tilda Swinton) who’s been in love for centuries. For reasons unexplained, they now live in different parts of the world. He is isolated in an apartment in Detroit, while she lives in Tangier. Still with me? Good cause at some point you may well ask: and then what happens? The answer is “nothing much” or perhaps “nothing you can’t see coming a mile away”. For some (mainly Jarmusch devotees), this is a sign of an artistic film. But unlike those devotees, I became impatient. I knew exactly where the story was headed, yet Jarmusch and his talented actors lingered on every point, long after emptying their bag of tricks. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for art house films and slow, character-driven storylines. But I just couldn’t care less about any of the characters in “Only Lovers Left Alive”. I admire and respect the filmmaker’s intention, but I’m sorry to say I grew tired of his movie.