If this pandemic has given me one thing, it’s been time to revisit certain filmmakers and reignite my fire for their work. Early in the year, I had the joy of seeing Terry Gilliam’s latest film, The Man Who killed Don Quixote. I loved it and began the train of thought that Gilliam was a filmmaker whose catalog was one in need of revisiting. Then life happened. We sold our house. I left my job. We packed up and moved. Pandemic. All the while, I began writing again, more and more. There was now plenty of time to the thing I wanted to do. Criterion helped me out by putting an expiration date on The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen. I made sure to watch the film before it disappeared and it hit me like a bolt of lightning. A new idea was born. A week by week, long form piece about Gilliam’s career.
In my research, I’ve come to a conclusion: Gilliam has subconsciously been a major inspiration for my own work, my entire life. The first novel I ever finished is littered with influenced imagery from Gilliam. He’s a fantastic world builder and always, good or bad, executes his vision — as uncompromising as they sometimes come. The Gilliam “look” is unlike any other filmmaker I can conjure up in my mind. He is unique. The thing I’ve come to appreciate the most from his work is the dry wit that exudes through every scene of his films. He is unafraid to tackle dark subject matter and often finds the most beautiful way to bring levity to each project.
It’s no secret that Gilliam caught his big break with the legendary comedy troupe, Monty Python. As the only American member, he quickly left his mark as an animator before elevating to co-director of their masterpiece film, Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Terry Jones handled the actors while Gilliam was in charge of the cameras. There’s nothing special about his work on this film but it bears mentioning because he learned early to get the shot a scene requires. I could talk more about his work on the third Python film, The Meaning of Life, but he didn’t actually direct that film. Gilliam directed a short film which plays beforehand. It’s brilliant and full of the Terry Gilliam futuristic antique look we love.
For the record, He had two of his own films under his belt at this point.
Gilliam is bold and unapologetic. He’s also a bit of a polarizing figure right now because of his recent comments in support of Harvey Weinstein and his remarks about being tired of white men being blamed for everything. I don’t agree or support his point of view in any way, shape, or form. I’m here, and it is admittedly difficult sometimes, to separate the artist from the man. I want to do this partly to reckon with myself and my own feelings and partly because his art is beautiful and pure.
The thing that excites me the most is that with Gilliam, I always have strong, gut reactions to his work. Sometimes elation and sometimes deflation. That’s what great art does. I’ve also recently watched a film of his that I loathed upon its initial release only to find myself riveted by the film today. This is gong to be fun.
And we begin this project with his solo directorial debut, the 1977 film, Jabberwocky.
This is an interesting film, and one I’d never seen until earlier this week. It’s not available to stream but I was lucky enough to procure a blu-ray from the Criterion Collection which is always the way to go if possible. Jabberwocky is based on the poem from Lewis Carroll. It should come as no surprise that Gilliam would be a huge fan of Carroll’s work, he’s found ways to pay homage to the man throughout his lengthy career. Here, Gilliam fully lets loose with his vision. Everything is heightened to the max and we see the beginning of Gilliam’s “look.” We’re treated to a heavy dose of deep focus shots in order to lend a hand to the viewer in understanding all of the characters’ unease. Jabberwocky is the story of a poor peasant named Dennis who travels to a bigger city, hoping to make something of himself. While in the city, he becomes accidentally embroiled in a quest to kill a giant beast that is feasting on people in the surrounding forest. The film’s tone is all over the place and Gilliam struggles to maintain hold. Most of the time the film plays like a live action Loony Toon but veers into more dramatic territory here and there. It feels like Gilliam is pushing against his former constraints and trying to free his inner lunatic. He’s a wonderful world builder — the production design is gorgeous. He treats us to so many visual tricks and gets the most out of his make-up and costume teams. Dennis is almost always facing a low angle shot, in order to express his inferiority. Everything else leaves us feeling off-kilter, like many of the characters.
Michael Palin plays our hero, Dennis, with a boyish charm that begs us to root for him, no matter how often he fails. Gilliam spends a lot of time whisking us around Dennis’ town and then the larger city — he lives for the guts of it all. Every single detail we could wish to pore over is on screen.
The film, overall, plays like an elongated Python sketch — this is both good and bad. It’s good that it focuses on one subject but considering Carroll’s poem is a bunch of nonsense, the movie is as well. There’s no real point to anything here but it sure is fun arriving at that conclusion.
And what a conclusion it is. The Jabberwock reveal is breath-taking. The creature is beautifully horrific to behold and the creature’s designer, Valerie Charlton, is a hell of an artist.
My ultimate takeaway is that Jabberwocky is a fun initiation into Gilliam’s world. There are stories of his fights for more money and control with the studio — something that will continue throughout his career. He unveils a huge bag of visual tricks and creates a fantasy film that subsequent entries into the genre such as Willow, owe a huge debt.
Next Friday, I’ll dive in to a film I’ve not seen in a long time, Time Bandits. I cannot wait to revisit that world. See you then — love each other.
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