Gilliam Friday #9 – The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus

We can’t dig in to the next film on the list without, again, beating the Quixote drum. I now see just how much Gilliam was reeling from the destroyed project that consumed him for nearly a decade. He had previously tried to shake himself loose from his rut by taking on two projects so close together that they were released in the same year. The first, Brothers Grimm, was unfocused and messy. The second, Tideland, was the darkest material Gilliam had tackled. It felt more like an exorcism than a full fledged film. Now, four years later, I found him still trying to work through the pain of his failed magnum opus.

What should also be noted is how the production of The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus ran into trouble at every turn. First there was the death of actor Heath Ledger during principal photography, then upon completion, a producer died, and then during post production, Gilliam himself was hit by a car. This film still getting made and released is a small miracle in and of itself.

Onto the reason we’re together today, the 2009 film, The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus.

It tells the story of an aging conman/magician/mystical person named Doctor Parnassus who is really more of a gambler. He is constantly engaging in bets with the devil, losing those bets and doubling down to try and dig himself out of a hole. At first, he won and was granted immortality. He quickly realized that immortality was not all he thought it to be and made a new deal to be granted youth so he could be with the woman he loved. The payment was that if he ever had a child, at the age of sixteen, that child would become property of the devil. The film begins only a few short days before Parnassus’ daughter’s sixteenth birthday.

Parnassus, his daughter, and two assistants have been relegated to performing in their own traveling sideshow where they attempt to trick people into passing through their magic mirror. Once inside the mirror, the person is now inside of Parnassus’ imagination. Of course, what they see and experience is also partly dictated by their own imagination. It’s here that they will then be given a choice between two locations — one represents Parnassus’ theory on life while the other represents the devil. Parnassus struggles to find people who don’t succumb to the devil’s promises and thus is digging himself even deeper.

One night, they happen upon a hanging man beneath a London bridge and rescue the man. He’s played by Heath Ledger and has no memory of his previous life. The film really takes off from here as Ledger joins the troupe as a thank you for saving him. He is wonderful in this film — a natural con artist full of exuberance, wit and charm. With Tony’s help, Parnassus begins to gain the upper hand with the devil and just may be able to pull off one last wager and save the soul of his daughter.

Up to this point in the film, there are a few things to note. First, the imagination on display is second to none. Gilliam is fully in his wheelhouse. The monks’ snow covered temple, for example, is extraordinary. Again, Gilliam is giving us a vision only he could give, warts and all. Like many of his previous films, it takes a little while for the tone to settle and gel but we get there — Gilliam, like many auteurs, forces you to buy in to his vision and leave your own shit at the door. The material again is on the darker side. Many of the scenes and dialog and actions toward the daughter, Valentina, are problematic. She’s only sixteen and this does lead to some uncomfortable moments. Gilliam knew this and framed it around the devil’s wishes to soften, or at least explain, the questionable antics. There’s also a moment of blackface in the film which has no business being there. There is simply no excuse for it. It was done to serve a joke but the punchline is not worth a second of the journey taken to get there. So, the film is definitely an imperfect film.

Now, as I’m watching, I’m still digging the film because it’s really about the world each of us holds inside our mind. It’s around the halfway point where LEdger’s character, Tony, first enters the mirror. The result propels the second half of the film ever higher than its setup. It’s also where we first get a glimpse of the genius idea Gilliam had to get the film finished despite his lead actor’s death. He gathered a few of Ledger’s friends to play the late actor’s role. Tony goes into the mirror on three separate occasions and the mirror world inside Parnassus’ mind changes Tony’s face. The first time this happens, Ledger transforms into Johnny Depp. This is the shortest of changes and also the least effective. I love Depp. He’s one of my all time favorites and was brilliant in Fear and Loathing. Here, he plays Tony with a smirk and a wink. It’s more brooding and a little off from Ledger’s take. The second time Tony enters, he transforms into Jude Law. This is the best alternate version of Tony. Where Depp did his own thing, Law matches Ledger’s tone and nervous energy. It’s a damn near perfect match. It’s also our longest look inside the mirror world. I remember thinking that Gilliam should’ve been the one to make a live film version of Alice in Wonderland. He’s always been in love with Lewis Carroll and has paid homage to the writer on countless occasions. You could make the case that this film is his version of Alice in Wonderland. It’s equal parts whimsy, moral fable, and nasty legend. The final time Tony enters the mirror, he transforms into Colin Farrell. This is where we finally see Tony for the bastard he truly is and Farrell is good, not great. The problem here is that Colin Farrell has too kind a face. It’s just hard to buy in that he sucks as a human being. He manages to pull it off but barely.

The entire film is wonderfully absurd but it also begs the question of whether Gilliam has problems with women. Here, Valentina is constantly objectified as a sixteen year old and serves mostly as a plot device. Her plight propels the narrative forward but she doesn’t really hold any other weight. This is what holds me back just a bit from the film. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a very good film but some tweaks to the script could’ve landed Gilliam firmly back on his feet. The more I searched my feelings on this film, I came to realize that Valentina and Parnassus specifically are stand-ins for The Man Who Killed Don Quixote and Gilliam himself. This story is really about an old man questioning his choices and loyalties on the eve of losing what he cherishes most.

The film is visually extraordinary and brimming with ideas — perhaps too many ideas. It’s dark, daunting, and proves Gilliam’s tenacity as a filmmaker. It won’t win any converts but it shows an artist willing to try and dig himself out of a hole that has consumed him for over a decade.

Next week, The Zero Theroem. Until then, love each other.

Gilliam Friday #7 – Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas

Holy hell. This one was wild. I knew it, sort of. Like many of Gilliam’s films, it had been quite awhile since I last saw Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas. I liked it then and I like it even more now. Gilliam is just showing off with this film. Every single aspect is firing on all cylinders. Reading about all of the behind the scenes trouble that permeated the entire production is absolute bananas when the finished product came out this polished.

The film is based on Hunter S. Thompson’s semi-autobiographical novel of the same name. It took years of development to arrive at the point where they could actually begin filming this thing. Johnny Depp, for his role as Hunter/Raoul Duke, lived with Thompson for four months. He studied the writer’s habits and mannerisms. Nearly all of the clothes and props that Depp wears/uses in the film are actual items that Thompson owned. Depp even bought the red convertible and drove it non-stop before filming began. Hell, Thompson himself shaved Depp’s head to match his own male pattern baldness.

The film itself never lets up. If you’re in, you must be in all the way. I’ve never seen a film that made the viewer feel higher and more off balance in my life. It is exhausting. As Duke and Gonzo spiral further into madness we spiral along with them, looking for anything we can hold onto that will keep us tethered to our own sanity.

Gilliam’s trademark use of deep focus shots and extreme Dutch angles is more effective in this film than any other film of his to date. Where The Fisher King and Twelve Monkeys may be better overall films, I’d argue that Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas is Gilliam’s most accomplished effort as a director. I cannot imagine anyone else in the world being able to pull this off and tell Thompson’s story in Thompson’s way. There are narration passages that are so stunningly beautiful they feel like the words of God. These asides are also refreshing for us, the viewer, as a welcome respite from the drug fueled mayhem. It’s when the film goes introspective that it elevates itself to masterpiece territory. It perfectly and beautifully captures the haunting mania of Thompson’s writing. This is important because if you’re looking for a plot-centric story, this is not for you. The film wants nothing to do with plot and everything to do with studying a fugue state. Like I said at the top, You have to be in all the way.

My notes I took during the film (I watched it 2-1/2 times in three days) make no sense. I couldn’t help but laugh as I sifted through all of the WTF’s and underlined words like: insane, nuts, lol, what the actual fuck, etc. As a comedy, the film works. It is insanely hilarious and Depp gives one of the best performances of his career. He delivers his lines like a typewriter punching words onto a page. It’s perfect in its deadpan delivery of madness. Gilliam counters the deadpan delivery by using his camera like a drug addict along for the ride. It is never quite stable and makes us feel as high as Duke and Gonzo.

Speaking of Gonzo, Benicio Del Toro hovers over every scene like a devil on Duke’s shoulder. He’s constantly egging him on to further depravity. I wonder if Gonzo even really exists or if he’s the ego to Duke’s Id or vice versa. They both tell the same stories about each other and it often leads to hilariously uncomfortable results.

We could go further into the guts of the film and examine some of the outrageously over the top moments like the reptile hallucination or the flying Fellinis or the entire circus for that matter. Even Depp’s walk is outrageous. In lesser hands, this could all have devolved into indigestible bullshit but Gilliam fully commits and convinces everyone involved to join him. What we get out of the deal is a special film that has more than aged well and can provide many different types of film lovers something to chew on. Unless you’re that business man who happened upon Duke and a stranger in a bathroom doing lsd off the sleeve of his flannel. If you’re that guy, you’re life is ruined for having the curtain pulled back on a life you didn’t know existed.

The only bad thing about this film is that it marks the end of Gilliam’s prime. A prime that spanned thirteen years and five films. Upon this film’s release, Gilliam began shooting the Man Who Killed Don Quixote, a film that would plague him for twenty nine years and rob him of the momentum he had as an artist. From this point on, he struggled to regain it and we’ll see that in the next few weeks. There is always a story to tell. We’re in the second half now but there is still some wonderful places to go.

Next week, a double feature with The Brothers Grimm and Tideland. Until then, love each other.