Film: Twelve monkeys
Terry Gilliam is one of directors whose artistic goal is mainly bringing us imaginative, stylish visuals; his main tool is imagination; that's why he's often put in the same group with Tim Burton, Coen brothers, even Joe Dante. Not unrelated, these directors have often been accused that their films are all style and no substance - they often get too overwhelmed with their imagination which is, after all the main reason they make films. Though, this is perhaps said less often for Gilliam than others.
Gilliam is, on the other hand, accused that he puts too many ideas in his films, too many even for a mind to grasp, which makes them sometimes too crowded. This is particularly evident in "Adventures of baron Munchausen’s" which has, I believe, been voted for the worst film of that year on some occasions. But this is actually where Gilliam’s magic lies: he's simply crazy. He is somewhat similar in sensibility with Burton, in that they both started as animators and thus their images contain quality of stylization found in animation (and they both have beautiful comic-strip storyboards) and also in that they both look in their fairy-tales spiced childhood for inspiration, but there's a great difference: while Burton remained a child inside, and is making films for grown-up children, Gilliam grew up and went insane. Now he's making films for people who are in touch with their irrational side, or is trying to help them make that connection.
And that's the point with exaggerated, loud, even grating imagery of "Baron Munchausen’s"; that's the point with all the little details in "Brazil", and then, that's the point with hallucination epic of "Fear and loathing in Las Vegas"; Gilliam seems to be walking on the cliff, and all the time, he continues making steps toward the abyss, but somehow, when we think he's bound to fall, we realize that he's still on the edge. the explanation might be in imagery of "Indiana Jones 3" where a bridge appears under your feet as long as you believe, but somehow I think that the road runner explanation is more accurate: he can't fall because he doesn't know of the law of gravitation.
Gilliam is, as many know, one of 6 Monty Python guys, the one who did animations and appeared only in short roles, appearances, rather. Though, it wasn't because of the lack of acting skills - if nothing, he swallowed an entire banana in one bite, live on stage during the famous Hollywood Bowl performance. Boy, was he sweaty when he did that.
Later, Gilliam made a reputable directing career, probably the most successful and continuous of all post-Monty-Python careers, with probable the least calling up on old glory. Yet he did remain faithful to Python's absurd; take, for instance, De Niro in "
Gilliam is, again, one of those directors that producers dread of. Old style directors who not only break the schedule and are always late, but also break the budget and ask for more money; then they won't even let you re-edit it, and, in the end, there’s no guarantee that film won’t be a commercial flop (and Gilliam had his deal of flop films that gained cult status only years later). Old style producer's nightmare, that’s Gilliam’s reputation. Interesting documentary "Lost in La Mancha" describes unbelievable set of bad circumstances that lead to never finishing his "Don Quixote", including unexpected storms over the Spanish desert that Gilliam pchoose for the set because of the particular colour of the stone and dirt, or the illness of the actor who was the only one Gilliam saw as don Quixote. Although some of this was eccentricity, Gilliam is one director in
Needless to say after my intro, I love all these films, except for “Jabberwocky” which was too much alike Monty Python's medieval sketches, but it didn't quite click with him as a main author. The rest is one of my favourite directing careers, imaginative, various, always surprising. That's why I had a problem deciding whether to rant and rumble about "
Because for one, he doesn't save the world; at the ending, he is shot as he is about to stop the virus spreader, while information he provided to his center may or may not serve any purpose. At the same time, he as a boy is there, seeing his own death.
In fact, Willis, playing James Cole, is in this film far from the action hero we're used to; he stumbles around dazed, sleeps on streets or spends time tranquilized in a nuthouse; he isn't sure of what he wants or what he has to do; he is almost instinctively searching for information he is sent for, but he'd rather spend time listening to old jazz hits like "what a wonderful world" or "blueberry hills". At one moment, he actually believes that he's mad and that everything's just a figment of his imagination. In short, he is lost and confused. But that's Willis, and, because of his typecasting, we expect an action hero; we expect a certain kind of film; that's why this film is a big twist on a rehashed topic and why an ending like this comes unexpected.
The key thing is, he saw his own death as a child, thanks to time travel he is caught up in a loop and not being unable to escape from preordained is the main theme of this film. Starting with the fact that superiors send him to past not to try to change it but merely to watch and collect information; through presence of voices coming from walls and trackers installed in teeth; to the final scene where he just can't escape, and being shot by airport guards seems inevitable - until we realize that he as a kid is watching the entire scene and being set for the defeat. Now tell me: how is he supposed to believe that he is going to escape or even stop the apocalypse - if he saw with his own eyes that he won't. Two Coles, each knowing other's future, are in a curious, paradoxes relation.
There's a tight net of motivations in this film, tightly related to time travel: Cole is inclined to convince himself that he's mad, because than the incoming apocalypse is a figment of his madness too: no SF character has ever been so insecure. Escape is his final and only motive, punctuated by the utopian soundtrack.
Said that, "Twelve monkeys" is more respectful toward time travel paradoxes than most of time-travel films, even though it's still not without it's own problems.
This film was the first to bring Brad Pitt (at that point, a boyish-looking star that teenagers swooned over) to a serious role. He exercised a frantic acting style that became a prototype for his later roles (especially in "fight club"). He’s definitely one excellent madman as James Goines, even if a bit too baroque.
When we talk about baroque, that's a word with which you can describe Gilliam’s style, dedication to details and fondness of crowding them, but also the use of wide-angle cameras and unusual camera angles that force a specific, disorienting but insider (perhaps because characters being disoriented, we identify our disorientation with theirs) point of view on audience. This camerawork is present in this film too, but there is also a visible restrain, this film is more conventional than any other of Gilliam’s. Yet, it's still highly stylish: take the example of an ordinary dialogue scene that is made visually exciting, just by placing it on a circular staircase and applying Gilliam’s camerawork. One of the first scenes has Cole crawling in the middle of a snow desert, and, of course, there is a beautiful scene near the end with wild animals running around town and a herd of giraffes strolling across the bridge. This hopeful sight matches the only moment where main characters are full of hope. but then, film ends with no hope.
My opinion is that "
1 Comments:
aww, but you completely left out The Fisher King which is classic Gilliam and continues to explore "Holy Grail" territory. If 12 Monkeys is Gilliam's best horror/sci-fi/drama, The Fisher King is easily his best comedy.
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