Color Out Of Space – Two Cages For The Price Of One

Sometimes everything clicks in a film — the stars align in the exact right way and you’re left with a cosmic masterpiece. Richard Stanley’s adaptation of the H.P. Lovecraft story, The Color Out Of Space is exactly this phenomenon. It is a film firing on every single cylinder, providing the viewer with an out-of-body experience like no other. Stanley has always been an interesting writer and filmmaker but I have no qualms with declaring this effort as his greatest to date — it knocked my socks off.

It starts innocent enough, like many other smaller budget horror films before it, spending its early runtime easing us into the lives of a family fleeing life in the “big city.” Seriously, Cage describes their previous residence as just that, and it’s a howler of a line. In fact, after fifteen minutes, I wasn’t sure I was even going to like this film much. The family dynamic was hokey and Cage himself was fine — nothing special. What kept me going was how beautifully shot this film was. It is gorgeous. Soon, a meteor of sorts crashes right near the farmhouse the family now lives in and from here, the film gets weird — like, really weird. The meteor is of some unexplained cosmic design and begins to produce colorful flowers all around. These aren’t normal run-of-the-mill flowers or colors — everything is heightened. Soon, strange insects begin to appear and soon after that, people begin to get infected by this new strangeness. The film takes off like a rocket from this point.

We’re treated to a few extraordinary scenes with Tommy Chong as a local whose had strange visions of what is to come. He’s the harbinger and he’s magnificent in his small role. The slow burn of the film is over and the fire is raging. Nicolas Cage quickly goes from fine to odd in the way only Cage can. It’s here where we begin to see Cage’s character fighting his own infection. It’s taking hold of him and in the process, Cage has created two distinct characters. Not many actors can go over the top like Cage can and it’s become a bit of a recent joke in his career. Here, he is in top form. Two Cages for the price of one is only the beginning.

From a technical standpoint, Richard Stanley takes off as an artist as well. The sound design is impeccable. He focuses on all of the little things, helping us to sense the horrors that await us. The shot composition and cinematography pull every last ounce of feeling from each scene. The score, for its part, is equally wonderful. You add this up and include a central Nicolas Cage performance that truly requires a buy-in and you have something unique on your hands.

For the record, this film won’t be for everyone but it was definitely for me.

Back to Cage because this film requires him to go as big as possible and at about the seventy minute mark, Cage goes completely supernova. I’ve seen Cage do this before, sometimes much more effectively than others (most recently in the awesome, Mandy) but he has never been more effective with it. It is an astonishing performance from him. And shortly after this Cage all but winks at the audience and proceeds to go super-supernova because why the hell not? I stood up and clapped. The audacity of the performance is one for the ages. The craziest aspect of Cage this time out is how necessary his Cage-y-ness for this story. Stanley requires it from his leading man and Cage delivers in spades. What they created together is a horror film for the ages, one of the best, if not the best Lovecraft adaptation, and a film destined for my year end best list.

I loved it. Loved it, loved it, loved it.

Next week it’s time I tackled my thoughts on my favorite show on Netflix, Dark. Until then, love each other.

Sofia Coppola Friday #0 – A Short Intro

Short piece today. Fridays have morphed from Gilliam Fridays to Sofia Coppola Fridays. Beginning next week, the eighteenth, I’m diving into the oeuvre of one of my very favorite filmmakers. I’ve had some truly special experiences with Sofia Coppola’s films — experiences which I will also discuss on a weekly basis. Very few filmmakers have captured the ennui of everyday life better than she has and I am excited to dive back in to these films I love so much. Also, this will line up nicely for her brand new film, On The Rocks, to release in October. Next week is The Virgin Suicides. Until then, love each other.

The King of Staten Island – Apatow’s Love Letter To The Precarious Nature Of Life

Judd Apatow is responsible for many of my favorite comedies. Before we get to it, I have a story. In the wake of Freaks and Geeks, Apatow made another tv show: Undeclared. In one episode, the group of students plays a prank and duct tapes someone inside of a phone booth. This tickled me to no end. So much so, that I concocted a similar plan to carry out with my brother and two of our friends. Unfortunately, there were no longer any phone booths in our town so the plan had to be adjusted. What I came up with was to wait at a local diner and when someone parked in the back and then entered the diner, we would duct tape their car shut. We tested the plan out on another car in a different parking lot. Two people up top and two people laying on the ground, passing the roll of tape between each of us — this way the duct tape would wrap from roof to undercarriage. We executed the plan to perfection — nearly.

We unwittingly chose the car belonging to the daughter of the chief of police.

Long story short: my plan accidentally got my brother arrested.

On to the task at hand.

Apatow’ s latest effort is, The King of Staten Island. The film is partly inspired by star Pete Davidson’s real life. First off, Davidson is great in this film. He has an odd charm. I don’t know how else to put that because it’s indescribable. Davidson has something unique on screen where he can equally make you groan while still rooting for him. This is also due in part to a terrific and realistic script. One thing that is universal in Apatow films is how natural his characters talk to and act around each other. His films are shaggy and maybe run too long in spots for some viewers. This has never been the case for me. I’ve mentioned this countless times here but it bears repeating: character over plot. There is no discernible plot in this film other than if Pete’s character will ever properly deal with the trauma of his father’s death and actually grow up. There is no real resolution because his journey is our journey and our journey is never finished until the day we die. Instead, Apatow loads the film with scenes of friends and acquaintances just shooting the shit and I am here for all of it. The scene’s with the friends are countered with more serious ones involving the family. Everyone is still dealing with not only their own shit but everyone else’s shit as well. Everything feels so natural. I love the ebb and flow in the tone.

Eventually, Pete’s mother, played wonderfully by Marisa Tomei, wants to try and move on with her life. She begins to date a neighbor played by Bill Burr. Pete immediately hates him for obvious infantile reasons but goes apoplectic when he finds out that Burr is a firefighter. This kicks the biggest plot point of the film and focuses the story for a bit. We can feel how personal this all is for Pete in real life. After all, his father was a firefighter who died on September 11, 2001. In the film, his father also perished in a fire and Pete cannot fathom why his mother would want to potentially go through that again. There is also an incredible conversation about why firefighters would have children and potentially scar them for life when they tragically died. The film cuts deep when it wants to. This is also when we meet Steve Buscemi as a firefighter in the same house as Bill Burr. Now, I didn’t know that Buscemi was a firefighter in real life before becoming an actor. On top of that, he went back to work after September 11th in order to help with the rescue efforts — amazing and heroic. In the film, Buscemi steals it all in only a handful of scenes. His sincerity rings loud and echoes throughout our hearts and minds.

The film still reserves plenty of time for idiotic antics and weird asides. There is a scene featuring Action Bronson, a real life rapper, as he stops by the firehouse looking for help. The entire crew is on a call and only Pete is there sweeping the floors. Bronson has been shot or stabbed or something — he is hilariously vague about what happened to him. It all almost feels like an SNL sketch or something ripped from another film. This is what I love about Apatow: if it works, it goes in. The scene is odd and misplaced on the surface but actually provides much needed levity from the more serious subject matter the film begins to delve into. Apatow is an expert at this. As serious as Burr’s character is on the surface, Burr plays him with a maniacal grace that provides gut busting laughs. It’s a thing that permeates every moment of the film.

This is what I appreciate most about Apatow’s work — it’s real. He views life like a bodega shelf — there’s a little bit of everything taking up space. It may be dusty. It may be expired. But it may just be exactly what you’re looking for.

Next week I was planning on doing a piece on season three of Westworld but the truth is I don’t have much to say about it other than I didn’t like season three of Westworld. There it is. Print the review. Instead, I think I’ll write about an awesome horror movie, The Color Out Of Space. Until then, love each other.

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.

My Blue Heaven and Goodfellas are Siblings, Who Knew?

Well, I button-hooked ya, didn’t I? My intention was to write about The King Of Staten Island this week but some interesting news came my way and I switched things up at the last minute.

The year was 1990 and two mob movies came out within a month of each other. Those movies were: Goodfellas and My Blue Heaven. I saw them both as a kid and loved them both. In the spirit of honesty, My Blue Heaven is a movie that has largely fallen by the wayside for me in the decades since its release but the other day, I stumbled upon a story about its release which led me to a rewatch and an idea for this post.

The story is this: Goodfellas is the true story of Henry Hill, a mobster who turned on his friends and associates in exchange for immunity. He then went into witness protection. My Blue Heaven is also about Henry Hill though they changed the name in the film and the events are fictionalized for comedy.

I never knew this and just you wait because the story gets better.

Henry Hill, while in witness protection began meeting with a writer in order to tell his life story. That writer was Nicholas Pilleggi and over the span of a few months, he got to know Hill and began writing his story. The book was called, Wiseguy, and when Martin Scorsese got ahold of it, there was no denying him a chance to put that story up on the screen. We know it as Goodfellas.

But we are not done.

While interviewing Hill, Pilleggi’s wife began conceiving an idea all her own. Her name was Nora Ephron and she was a screenwriter. She took her husband’s experiences with Hill and wrote a comedic take on everything which became the movie, My Blue Heaven. The same studio optioned both of the movies and released them one month apart. I find this all marvelously interesting. We could even look at My Blue Heaven as a quasi-sequel to Goodfellas.

So, onto the movie. How does it hold up?

It is still a wonderful film, all these years later.

The production of the film got off to a rocky start because they couldn’t lock down a cast. Steve Martin was originally hired to play the FBI agent Coopersmith with Arnold Schwarzenegger slated for the role of the mobster Vinnie, er Tod. Schwarzenegger dropped out in order to star in Kindergarten Cop which left a huge hole in the production. Steve Martin stepped up and suggested he could switch roles and play Vinnie. Rick Moranis was soon hired to play Coopersmith and the rest is history.

Starting with the cast of this film, we are in for a treat. Steve Martin is a treasure and was always a big part of my life growing up. From SNL to films like The Jerk, Three Amigos, Dirty Rotten Socundrels, Planes, Trains and Automobiles, Parenthood, etc. Martin was a mainstay in our house. The same could be said of Rick Moranis. There was SCTV, Ghostbusters, Honey I shrunk The kids, Spaceballs, Little Shop Of Horrors, etc. so yeah, no-brainer. Joan Cusack is also wonderful in this film, another 80s star who found her way into many of our favorite movies. Last but not least is Bill Irwin. He steals this movie for me. His dancing is super humanly hilarious and put a permanent smile on my face. In the last few years, watching Legion, Irwin’s character became my favorite and I had a hard time figuring out why I instantly connected with him. I remember now. His performance in My Blue Heaven is spectacular.

The movie is exactly my kind of movie as it’s not interested in plot at all. Instead it sets scenes for these characters to use and shed a little light on who they are. Not to sound like a broken record but I ALWAYS prefer character over plot. Steve Martin is so brilliant as Vinny, perfectly capturing the larger-than-life persona in one of his silliest performances. Rick Moranis, for his part is one of the greatest ever at conveying awkwardness. You can’t help but root for him in every role he’s ever played. I miss him dearly. Hollywood misses him dearly. I’m holding out hope that he’ll eventually return to acting and continue spreading his brand of joy to the world. Speaking of joy, My Blue Heaven is chock full of it. You’ll know if you’re in or not within the first five minutes and if you are, the smile will never leave your face. The jokes are stellar and multi-layered, sometimes you’ll find yourself laughing at a joke told a few minutes prior. The script is tight and the dialog fantastic. Martin is an impeccable asshole and plays Vinnie like a quasi-sequel to his character from The Jerk. Again, he is a treasure. The production design is vibrant and full of life. The shot composition adds to every moment — I swear I could sense the weather in every scene. I don’t think the film gets enough credit for how incredible the entire production conveys multiple things at one time — supreme talent on display here.

What started as an exercise on a story told from two different perspectives became a wonderful examination on what breathes excitement and life into our lives. This is a story about people and what a wonderful story it is.

Next week, Staten Island gets its due, I promise. Until then, love each other.

Gilliam Friday #10 – The Zero Theorem

This film doesn’t work. On paper, it sounds great but in reality, it never lifts off the page. The film is set in another dystopian future, though this time it is one speckled with vibrant color. It’s definitely pleasing to the eye. I particularly liked the opening few minutes where Waltz’s character leaves his dark and dreary home and steps outside into a bright and vibrant, yet dilapidated world. Gilliam’s playfulness with lighting sells this. Now, the story follows a worker, obsessed with his own impending death, being tasked by management to prove a theory that everything in life ultimately adds up to nothing. This is known as the Zero Theorem, hence the title. If this sounds intriguing, that’s because it is intriguing but the subsequent film is a joyless affair. Everyone is either openly depressed or masking their depression. It was all too bleak for my taste.

The cast is a good one but most aren’t left with much to do. Christoph Waltz is good but his character is so dour, it’s hard to root for him because even he doesn’t know what he really wants out of life. David Thewlis, as his supervisor, injects at least some life into this film every time he is on screen. Ben Whishaw and Peter Stormare are two actors I love to see but they’re are in the film for only a few short minutes. The same can be said for Tilda Swindon. Matt Damon plays management in the film and again, I love him in nearly everything else he’s ever done but he just doesn’t mesh with Gilliam as a creative partner. His scenes are stale. This puts a lot of pressure on Waltz to carry everything off himself but the script doesn’t allow that to happen. The only people who truly come alive on screen are Lucas Hedges who plays the son of management and Melanie Thierry, who plays a sex worker named Bainsley, and Waltz’s character’s(Qohan) muse. She is electric and the only one who looks to be having any fun. I looked up her imdb page and was shocked to see that she hasn’t really broken out in Hollywood. If nothing else, this film should have launched a big career for her.

One thing I must note is that this is yet another story where the main female character is objectified and sexualized by all of the male characters. This has become a running theme throughout Gilliam’s career and something I will be certain to dive into when I write my wrap-up in two weeks.

There are cool and interesting moments in the film for sure. Qohan has a computer monitor in his home that allows him to view an expanding black hole. There’s a moment where he projects himself and Bainsley into space, nearing this black hole that is nothing if not revelatory. They discuss the idea of the soul and how life must mean something. Qohan is dealing with unknown trauma and it’s making him increasingly nihilistic. Him choosing the black hole as his favorite place to visit leads Bainsley to ask this question: Is THAT what’s inside of you? How do you live with all that…emptiness? It’s a profound question and one that Qohan doesn’t have a good answer for because he’s unwilling to accept what may or may not reside inside of him.

At first, I thought this film was an allegory about mankind becoming a slave to technology and while that is part of it, the film is actually diving much deeper. The film is really about the soul of mankind and the world that lives within us. We can become shut-ins who are desperate to remain in the dark with our secrets. It’s familiar territory for Gilliam and he’s explored it better in the past — most recently in his previous film, Doctor Parnassus.

There are neat tricks Gilliam pulls off in an attempt to excite and seduce us. As Qohan begins to unravel, the camera becomes more active — leading us off balance and jolting us awake. It’s a shame that we desperately need this push because everything else has landed so flat. Qohan proves the theory to management’s satisfaction but not his own — he is not convinced that he sufficiently proved that everything adds up to nothing. This is partly because he is in love with Bainsley and partly because he’s never let go of his old trauma. By the end, Qohan has attempted to purge himself of his pain but instead gives in. He ends in a digital afterlife where he can hopefully be content and happy with Bainsley. There is evidence during the credits that Qohan may not have been successful but it’s all vague.

The Zero Theorem is a quiet, ponderous film about the entirety of life. It has ideas but they never lift off and instead feel like a film version of reading a textbook. And this may be the point of the film, like the title suggests — but there’s no joy anywhere near it.

Again, I cannot overstate how devastating the failed project of Don Quixote was to Gilliam as an artist. Ever since his legendary struggles began with that cursed project, he flailed about. He managed to recapture some of his early magic here and there but more often than not, Quixote was an albatross, hanging from his neck and dragging him into the muck. Nearly every film in the wake of that disaster felt like his own commentary on what went wrong. The effort here is admirable but not necessarily enjoyable.

I cannot wait for next week when we’ll finally talk about the Don Quixote project. Until then, love each other.

Motherless Brooklyn – Old School Noir With A New School Skin

I’ll start by saying this: I’ve never read Lethem’s novel this film is based on. I have nothing against Lethem or his undeniable talent as a writer, he’s just not a writer I seek out. Who I do tend to seek out is Edward Norton. You take Norton and put him in a noir-ish story and I’m there twice. So I was actually looking forward to this film quite a bit.

And you know what? I liked it.

First off, the film is surprisingly funny, especially early on. The banter between Lionel and his cohorts is great and honest in the way long time friends speak with each other. The film is well cast from top to bottom. Guru Mbatha-Raw is the star of the movie, the camera cannot get enough of her and she still maintains a nuanced performance amongst a sea of scene chewing sharks. Baldwin is a terrific villain and Willem Dafoe is unable to give a dull performance — his scenes crackle. The same can be said of Cherry Jones, who the more I think about, is just like Dafoe in her ability to always be interesting. The overall score of the film is great, lending a slightly modern take on the classic, lonely jazz of an old school noir film. Thom Yorke’s contribution to the music is also great. As for the production design, great care went into this to transform the New York City area into the Brooklyn of old. The photography here is also marvelous — a very handsome production.

Now, let’s dig in and begin with the actors in a little more detail. I’ll begin with Norton, who took some stick for his portrayal of a man battling Tourette’s syndrome. I don’t want to start an argument with any experts or those suffering from Tourette’s but I worked with a man suffering from this affliction and after four years working with this man, I know what Tourette’s looks and sounds like and Norton nailed it. I understand when someone might see this film and think Norton is playing it for laughs but Tourette’s is extremely awkward for those afflicted and they often lean into it in an attempt to deflect from the affliction itself. I watched the manI worked with use his tics and attempt to turn them into little jokes. As for how his character relates the the film’s plot, he’s a great underdog early on. He is classily dogged in his pursuit of the truth but he’s physically at a constant disadvantage. Alec Baldwin hovers over the early proceedings like a malevolent specter, before exploding to the forefront in the second half. Films like this often require a huge villain and Baldwin uses his natural charisma to create a compelling one. Cherry Jones crushes her scenes as a player in this game railing against what the elite are trying to accomplish. Equaling Jones’ big performance is Willem Dafoe who is all nervous energy. This creates multiple dynamic character interactions and helps the film continue to slide right along. Then comes Gugu Mbatha-Raw who is pure bright light in this darkening sea of criminal activity. She practically walks on water. Michael K. Williams is also great in his small role — he’s always the coolest guy in the room.

Onto the story and it’s a timely one. It’s about the secret (and not so secret) power play for land in the city. We get a cautionary tale about politics and the lengths powerful men will go in order to secure more power. This is not subtle. It’s framed within a story about housing and gentrification of minority neighborhoods — something which is still going on to this day. The film is on the longer side at around two and a half hours but the length is earned. This never felt like a slog to me. It’s chock full of ideas yet never comes across as overstuffed.

Like I said at the top, I liked this film. It’s a well made plate of comfort food for me — dogged hero, huge villain, electrifying side characters, story with enough humor to provide some levity.

That’s all I have. Next week we’ll do The King Of Staten Island. Until then, love each other.

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 #8 – The Brothers Grimm & Tideland

It cannot be overstated how much the struggles of trying to get The Man Who Killed Don Quixote made weighed Terry Gilliam down. It was an anchor attached to his neck, dragging him under the surface. I cannot help but sense that his immediate post-Loathing efforts were of the flailing variety. The man could not have been in a good head space. He still managed to get two films released in 2005 though, so I guess that’s something to write about.

As for the films themselves?

Let’s start with The Brothers Grimm. I’ll keep it short because the less said about this film, the better. When I first saw this in 2005, I remember liking the film. It wasn’t my favorite Gilliam but after seven long years, it was nice to have something new from the filmmaker. Grimm boasts some nice trademark touches. The production design is stylish and grimy in all the right ways. Heath Ledger is awesome in this. He’s so earnest and funny — love his performance. Matt Damon, however, feels wrong. It’s rare to say that about Damon because he is seemingly an actor capable of doing anything but here he just feels out of place and miscast as one of the brothers. The rest of the film follows suit. What on paper should be a slam dunk for Gilliam, ends up looking, sounding, and feeling like something coming out of a blender with the top off. Reimagining the Grimms as grifters is an idea I have no problem with. Their stories are perfect for this type of riffing. The problem is the film lacks focus. There’s a disconnect with tone. It veers wildly from horror to comedy to drama and can never justify these drastic shifts. Granted, this is typically the hardest thing for a film like this to nail down but it still leaves us feeling disappointed. Looking back, it makes sense for the film to be as unfocused as it is, Gilliam was reeling creatively. Unfortunate.

And next?

Next up is Tideland, a film Gilliam also released in 2005. I cannot stress enough how much I loathed this film upon its initial release. It felt mean and dangerous in all the wrong ways. It felt dirty and irresponsible. Now, fifteen years later, I’ve watched it again. And it’s a lesson in how time and life and everything that comes with those two things can shift our perspective. I’ve never changed my mind more on a film. I was riveted by this film from the start. It is unrelenting and harrowing and dangerous as all hell. Gilliam veers into some of the darkest territory of his career. He’s bold and unafraid to tell this story.

And the story is?

It centers on a young girl whose parents are useless drug addicts (played by Jennifer Tilly and Jeff Bridges). Her mother dies and her father takes her to his old, dilapidated family home where he soon overdoses and dies. The girl, left alone, enters into a fantasy world of her own creation as a way of coping with her harsh reality. There is a family close by where a woman and her mentally ill brother live. Janet McTeer plays this woman, a stand in for the evil witch in stories like this, with an astonishing reckless abandon. She is the best thing in the film. Her brother who she cares for, is the subject of many of the most troubling scenes of the film. His relationship with the young girl is inappropriate to say the least. We feel scared for the little girl in every frame of this film. It’s exhausting for us to watch this for two hours but that’s the point, isn’t it? Gilliam ends up crafting a mesmerizing albeit difficult journey about abuse and neglect. Yes, the film feels dangerous and at times irresponsible but perhaps that’s just us projecting our own feelings on the film. We have different and more hopeful and naive world views when we are younger. By the time we enter middle age, we’ve seen the horrors this world holds and it hardens us. We are enlightened to the harsh truths of society. Tideland feels like Gilliam exorcising a demon and reclaiming at least a piece of his artistic career.

Next week, another case of an unfortunate and disastrous film production. That’s right, it’s The Imaginarium Of Doctor Parnassus. Until then, love each other.