Gilliam dazzles without purpose

Heath Ledger, Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell all conspire to create a film that lacks fizz, says Andrew M Brown

16 October 2009

Even after his star, Heath Ledger, died a third of the way through production, director Terry Gilliam was able to complete The Imaginarium of Dr Parnassus using three additional actors to play the Ledger role. That he was able to use four actors in a part intended for one, without it mattering much, says a lot about the kind of film this is.

The producers have said the multiple actors represent "the many aspects of the character Heath was playing", but I don't think Gilliam is interested in character. He started out as a cartoonist before joining Monty Python. In this film he still indulges his much-vaunted "imagination" in producing surreal visuals, but nothing much links or explains the images and he offers little in the way of narrative drive or human interest.

Fantasy and the surreal appeal to children, but I doubt Gilliam intends this for children. In any case, what's missing is that sense, which you need for a decent children's story, of an elemental conflict between good and evil where a terrible threat imperils the hero or heroine. Moreover, he forgoes humour. One brief sketch, reminiscent of Python, evoked a weak smile and that was when a troupe of high-kicking policemen in fishnets and mini-skirts sing: "Join the Fuzz, we love violence."

The plot, such as it is, contains thematic echoes of earlier Gilliam extravaganzas, notably The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, which Gilliam also co-wrote with Charles McKeown, along with Brazil, their other big flop. Baron Munchausen represented the imagination that was opposed to the forces of conformity and mediocrity - a conflict which mirrored Gilliam's own battles with Hollywood studios over control of his movies.

Set in the present day, the plot of the new movie concerns a travelling theatre, Dr Parnassus's "imaginarium", whose main exhibit is a magical mirror a bit like the one Alice passes through in Through the Looking Glass. The Victorian-style theatre can be folded up after performances when it becomes a caravan and serves as the home of Dr Parnassus (Christopher Plummer) and his associates - his 16-year-old daughter Valentina (Lily Cole), a dwarf named Percy (Verne Troyer) and Anton, a youth (Andrew Garfield). We see the theatre set up in a funfair in front of Tower Bridge, by Southwark Cathedral, and parked for the night in wasteland near Battersea Power Station. We see a horse pulling it through the Dickensian streets of the City of London.

To begin with, the imaginarium is suffering dwindling audiences. Then, in a scene of heightened ghoulishness, Parnassus and his troupe come upon a man in a white suit (Heath Ledger) hanging under Blackfriars Bridge, seemingly dead. Revived, he claims amnesia, though we soon find out he's Tony Shepherd, embezzling head of a children's charity, on the run from creditors. The creditors, Russian gangsters, turn up later. Tony joins the band, having taken a shine to Valentina, and revitalises their show. He persuades female members of the audience to part with heaps of cash for the privilege of passing through the mirror and entering alternative worlds. On the far side of the mirror these women encounter the other Tony Shepherds. First, for a few minutes, you have Johnny Depp, who grimaces and smirks. Then Jude Law, then Colin Farrell. Perhaps they look alike; certainly they are hardly differentiated in personality and merge into one another in a collection of unsubtle, overdone performances which seem to lack any fizz.

Christopher Plummer's Parnassus is the powerful presence in the film. His hair and make-up give him the look of an Oriental shaman, but he is a wounded figure with a boozy, depressed air. And it's no wonder, since the devil, aka "Mr Nick" (Tom Waits) is threatening to steal his daughter. Waits, on sly, rasping form as the devil, wears a pencil thin moustache and tangerine-tinted hair. Aeons ago he granted Parnassus immortality for winning a wager. But Parnassus couldn't stop gambling; he struck a second bargain with Mr Nick that offered up Valentina as the prize. When Mr Nick comes to claim, Parnassus is forced into a risky all-or-nothing wager - his last hope of rescuing his lovely daughter from an unspeakable fate. These are high stakes and they should chill the spine and quicken the pulse, but they don't. There's no suspense and no investment on the part of the audience in the characters and their fate.

Lily Cole as Valentina looks as delicate as a china figurine. Her round face resembles one of those Japanese anime characters, but she warms up and becomes surprisingly lively, showing unexpected cheek-dimples when smiling.

The Imaginarium could do well at the box office with its all-star line-up and the fact that it's Ledger's final picture. And there must be hosts of Gilliam enthusiasts who relish the wacky imagery. That imagery is impressively realised - not only the dazzling, Oz-like realms but the grimy London scenes as well. No one doubts that Gilliam can create fine visual effects; the question is whether he can put them in a coherent drama.