Gilliam Friday #12 – The Wrap-Up

We find ourselves at the end of the Terry Gilliam project — twelve straight weeks of the madman’s work. We began with his Monty Python efforts and ended with his finally finished dream project, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. What a ride. I was reminded of films I loved, found new love for films I originally struggled with, and some old loves now fell flat. Throughout this project, I was reminded that from a visual standpoint, Gilliam stands alone. His films are each unique in their own way and even more when compared to where cinema was in general when each of those films released.

But seriously, what did I learn from all of this?

Let us begin with Gilliam as a visual artist. Every single film he has ever crafted has been visually stunning. He is a true auteur, unafraid of any subject matter and uncompromising in his vision. He forces the viewer to buy in. Whatever you gain from viewing his work will always come on his terms. This is something that will shut down some viewers and keep them away. The flip side to this ideal is that those who buy in willingly, typically come away astonished. I also learned that Gilliam hates bureaucracy — hates it. Most of his films have a subtext dealing with the annoyance of red tape and failed governance. He is also an artist obsessed with paranoia and juxtaposition. You will find this on a constant basis in his films with the palettes he uses and his deep focus camera shots. Everything in his films is heightened in order to hold the viewer’s supreme focus while still keeping them off balance.

One other thing we must get to right away is that I now wonder if Gilliam has a problem with women. It cannot be overstated that his comments earlier this year about how tired he is that white men get blamed for everything, is extremely troubling. He has also thrown support behind Harvey Weinstein which is blatantly wrong-headed. I don’t sanction or agree with any of this — hard pass for me. With that said, I wonder where this stems from? And that’s the craziest aspect of all of this: Gilliam the person is still largely a mystery. We can infer all of these things we’ve already discussed but he has still managed to keep us all at bay — protecting his innermost desires to the end. I both like and dislike how he views the world. He paints in his films with a childlike wonder. Gilliam shows us worlds that are like electric carnivals used as a mask for societal rot and despair. He also shows heart here, especially with how he depicts the homeless in many of his films — the unfortunates are ignored and trampled by the powerful. This is in stark contrast to his depiction of women in most of his films. The truth is, as I’ve gone film to film, the women are mostly seen as annoying, trouble, or both. Many times they are devices to serve the plot. His visual talent is so extraordinary that I think these themes become overshadowed but they are there if you look hard enough. Two films stand out to me where this was not the case: The Fisher King and Twelve Monkeys. They also happen to be two films that Gilliam did not write. This definitely begs for further discussion.

The final thing we’ll discuss today is how Gilliam’s career is split into three sections (and hopefully an upcoming fourth). His early work is where he found his feet. Working as a member of the Python troupe allowed him creative freedom. It’s the least populated portion of his career. He followed this up with a thirteen year prime where he dealt masterful film after masterful film. This is an insane run from a filmmaker uninterested in making typical studio fare. Brazil, The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen, The Fisher King, Twelve Monkeys, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Any filmmaker would kill to make one of these films. Gilliam made them all…in a row.

Of course, with the highs come the lows. Gilliam’s disastrous attempt to make his dream project, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, derailed his career. He then entered a ten year funk where he still hit some high notes but his films felt more disjointed and angry — lacking the intrepid energy from his earlier work. He began to regain his footing with The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus and again, tragedy struck that film multiple times.

Terry Gilliam finally got the proverbial monkey off his back when his dream was finally realized. The Man Who Killed Don Quixote showed me that the madman still has the goods to be a true auteur. We will see if he has the stuff to give us some more to chew on.

I’ll leave you with this, a ranking of his solo films. This means that I’m not counting the python work. Worst to first, here we go:

The Brothers Grimm

The Zero Theorem

Jabberwocky

Time Bandits

Tideland

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

The Man Who Killed Don Quixote

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

Brazil

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Twelve Monkeys

The Fisher King

And that is a wrap. I had fun revisiting these films and filmmaker I have adored nearly my entire life. I found it enlightening and not always in a good way. I now look at Gilliam a little differently because of his depiction of women on film — something I was either not able to see while younger or just willfully ignorant of until now. I guess I learned some things about myself as well — things I still need to work on. I’m willing to do the work.

Next up on the docket is another of my faves, Sofia Coppola. I’ll outline the project next week and then dive into The Virgin Suicides on Friday, September 18th. Until then, love each other.

Gilliam Friday #11 – The Man Who Killed Don Quixote

Finally, the monkey is off his back. After decades of struggle, heartbreak and misfortune, Gilliam finally achieved catharsis in getting his magnum opus onto the big screen. To some, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote may seem like just another film, a weird film, but still just a film. To those of us who have followed Gilliam’s career, this film being released is everything. Before we get any further into the film itself, let’s chronicle the entire production just to gain some perspective on this journey.

Gilliam began work on the film in 1989. This was shortly after the financial debacle of The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen. Hollywood didn’t really have a good sense of how to deal with Gilliam as an artist. He began writing Quixote while taking on directing jobs for two films he didn’t write: The Fisher King and Twelve Monkeys. It took Gilliam nine years (and a third straight success with Fear and Loathing) in order to secure funding for his Don Quixote project. Soon after, he secured the services of Johnny Depp as his star and they began the shoot in 2000. The production did not last long. Flooding, illness, and other monetary (not to mention insurance) issues ended production of the film. Gilliam would try and resurrect his project several times to no avail. Eventually, Depp had to drop out and many of the sets were completely destroyed. This hammered several nails into the film’s coffin. While they were filming, Gilliam began shooting behind the scenes footage for a “making of” supplement to the film. This became the documentary, Lost In La Mancha, and was released in 2002. It stood as a chronicle of disaster.

The troubled, disastrous production of, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, plagued Gilliam for the latter part of his career. From the distracted job he did with The Brothers Grimm, to some serious dark material in Tideland and Doctor Parnassus, the filmmaker was trying to shake himself from a depression.

Well, he finally did it.

The Man Who Killed Don Quixote finally hit screens and it is largely a triumph. Gilliam still has the goods and really really really knows how to cast. He stepped in a golden pile of shit by casting Adam Driver and Jonathan Pryce together as his leads. They are perfectly balanced in opposition. Pryce is no stranger to Gilliam and he digs into his role as a man who believes himself to be the famed adventurer. Adam Driver, is a wonderful counterbalance as the young filmmaker who’s spent the last several years trying to find his true self. Gilliam has altered his film to better fit the dark period this new vision was born from. Quixote is a film at once about the folly of youth and the regret of old age. We can sense the freedom of spirit that Gilliam rediscovered in finally getting his pet project completed. The production design is exquisite and the script is better than ever. I couldn’t imagine any other actors than Driver and Pryce in this film now — call it kismet. I love the idea put forth of a story about two men, one old and one young, whose lives never amounted to what they once hoped for themselves. Quixote is chock full of second guessing, calling men out on their views of the world, silly fight scenes, musical numbers, and ultimately immense heart. This is Gilliam laying it all out and reclaiming his position as one of film’s unique auteurs. I hope he gets to make more films, at least one more, before he hangs it up. He deserves a victory lap and one last dance now that he is free from his albatross.

Bravo Mr. Gilliam, bravo.

Next week, the wrap-up. Until then, love each other.

Tales From The Loop Explores The Human Condition With Some Robotic Twists

I always get excited when I see new, original, smart science fiction. Amazon’s Tales From The Loop definitely fits this bill. Over eight episodes, it tells the story of a town surrounding a device known as The Loop. This device allows amazing and seemingly impossible things to become possible.

Each episode follows a new character and is set in various time periods of this town. Characters overlap and the star of one episode may turn up as a secondary character in another. The storytelling is slow and methodical but ultimately deeply rewarding. The entire production of the show is top-notch. In particular, the filmmakers make great use of sparse and somber music and imagery. Following that, the cinematography is breathtaking, sweeping us off our feet as we follow the wind of these stories.

Each episode catches its characters in life altering situations. Nothing will ever be the same for any of them. Instead of specifics, the show uses its devices to explore bigger themes. My notes are littered with questions as I focused on discovering these themes and why we see them when we do. Loneliness. Displacement. Identity. Time. The fleeting nature of young love. Loss. Fear. Helplessness. Hope. Grief. Sacrifice. Tales From The Loop encompasses so much of the human condition.

The cast is universally great but I want to point at another stellar turn by Jonathan Pryce. He’s the man in charge of the loop and his big episode comes at the halfway point of the season. He is, as usual, Marvelous. This episode in particular hit me very hard. It made me cry, sob actually, as it reminded me of when my great grandmother died — a person I was very close and connected to.

The season falls off a bit as the second half winds down but hits us with a wonderful one-two punch with its final two episodes. We get an awesome story set almost solely on an island which fills in some much needed backstory for one of the characters. And then the finale is sad and bold in equal measure, all about the sacrifices we make for love and learning.

Over all, this is a fantastic series and I hope Amazon sees fit to allow these filmmakers to tell us more Tales From The Loop. I’ll leave you with a quote:

That’s what makes things special — they don’t last.

Next week, Little Fires Everywhere. Until then, love each other.

Gilliam Friday #3 – Brazil

Here we are in week three of the Gilliam project and we’ve already had some surprises. This week, however, no surprise with Brazil and its genius. This is a film I check in on every few years and like other high-level art, it is a film that strikes me as more relevant than ever.

Brazil stars Jonathan Pryce as Sam Lowry, a middle-of-the-road office worker for the totalitarian Ministry of Information. Gilliam begins the proceedings showing us another worker hunting down a bug, killing it, and creating a misprint on a docket labeling an innocent man as a threat to society. They are after a known terrorist named Tuttle (played by a game Robert DeNiro) but instead arrest a man named Buttle. The innocent man is tortured and accidentally killed because his heart condition wasn’t disclosed on the other man’s medical history. This is clarified in a hilariously inept exchange between Sam and a friend who happens to be the torturer. It is an indictment on the increasingly bureaucratic tendencies of modern government. All anyone does is blame another department, create fixes that break more things and eventually try and quiet dissenters.

We first meet Sam in the midst of a fantastical dream. While asleep, Sam sees himself as a majestic winged warrior, fighting monsters in order to save the damsel in distress. His dreams are shot with Sam mostly attacking from above, lending an air of superiority. This is in stark contrast to his real life which is mundane and small — with an overbearing mother to boot. Sam is content in his life until he sees an image of the woman he has been dreaming of. This sets Sam off on an adventure to find this literal woman of his dreams. The woman in question was a neighbor of Buttle and is searching for what happened to the innocent man. Sam gets wrapped up in her quest while also dealing with the real terrorist, Tuttle, who pops up every now and again to help Sam out of a pickle. These small events in particular are key in understanding where Gilliam is ultimately going with the story.

Gilliam has constructed two worlds in this film, one of majestic beauty, while the other is a hulking dystopia. Sam feels powerful in the world of his dreams and Pryce portrays him as calm and confident. The real world is where Pryce truly shines by playing Sam as a smallish yet determined man full of nervous energy. He so desperately wants a win and to do something that truly matters. He’s willing to go the distance. In a wonderful twist, Sam is actually way more heroic in the real world. Gilliam loads up the real world with trope imagery. All office workers look and dress the same, managers are the same, assistants are the same, kids all are the same — you see where I’m going with this. The society is beholden to the technology they crave — TVs and radios are everywhere. In classic Gilliam fashion, the future again looks antiquated. We quickly realize how this film represents a perfect marriage of material and artist. Gilliam has always had an adversarial relationship with authority and Brazil is a commentary on this aspect of society — it is also so much more. Gilliam is also rubbing our faces in our own fascist relationship with technology. The more we seek the comfort and ease of tech, the quicker and easier we become a slave to it. Is tech a stand-in for God?

Gilliam blasts out of the gates on fire. His camera creates terror, confusion and paranoia in nearly every scene. It is constantly chaotic and hilariously absurd. This is also the director’s most focused film to this point in his career. He bought in and the film is instantly laser focused. Another thing of note is the whimsical, musical sensibility Gilliam instills in the real world setting. This creates a perfect and telling rhythm to the film and Gilliam never loses it here. Everything works like a finely tuned piece of machinery from start to finish.

It’s important for Gilliam to maintain total control as the narrative spirals into madness. The stakes get higher and Sam’s fantasy dream world begins to blend into the real world. I feel like Brazil was a major influence for the film, Being John Malkovich. With that said, there is still more to unpack with the film because it would stand as a classic without even delving into the twist of the finale. Eventually, Sam is captured and before he can be tortured, he is rescued by Tuttle and other insurgents. Sam and Tuttle are chased with Tuttle literally disappearing in a storm of loose papers. The chase for Sam continues as his dream world and real world fully blend together. Sam is then confronted and chased by his own failures as a man and by every facet of society he has thus far faced. Gilliam is showing us that middle age is a confrontation of what happens if you give up on your dreams — you’re destined to be imprisoned by your own shortcomings. This is the cost of what we give up in order to join the rat race instead of chasing the wants and hopes of our youth. Sam is confronted by his mother who, through plastic surgery, now looks just like the woman from Sam’s dreams. Sam then disappears into a void and ends up rescued by his dream woman — rescued by love.

Except he isn’t rescued at all. Sam is last seen having been captured and lobotomized — destined to live out his days in the bliss of a manufactured simpleton.

What does it all mean?

I’ll stake my flag right here saying that Sam was actually Tuttle all along. The Tuttle we saw represented by DeNiro was never really there, nor was the woman of Sam’s dreams. No, Sam was captured early on and tortured in order for the Ministry of Information to maintain control. This is a sour ending to a visually joyous film but it’s also a profound lesson for us to learn about how delusion can alter our perception of even the simplest of things. Gilliam hit one out of the park with Brazil, one of his best films, and one of the most inventive films Hollywood has seen. I loved it my whole life and I love it even more now.

Next Friday is the day for the Baron. Until then, love each other.