Reeling Backward: "Life of Brian" (1979)

Is there more to Monty Python movies than a pastiche of loony sketches? "Life of Brian" seemed to be their most ambitious attempt to make a movie with a coherent story and theme -- in this case, ridiculing the notion of organized religion.

The setup is that a fictional Jew, Brian Cohen, is born in the manger next to Jesus' and ends up living a parallel life in which he is mistaken for the messiah, vexed by a horde of worshipers and eventually strung up by the Romans for his trouble. Many people believe it to by the comedy troupe's best film, though I consider it their weakest.

I should add I still haven't caught up with their first, "And Now for Something Completely Different," though that was just a remake of sketches already aired on British television.

For that matter, defining exactly what belongs in and out of the Python filmography is not as easy as it sounds. If you exclude "Now," their 1982 concert movie and 2014 stage show, there's really only three feature films: this, "The Meaning of Life" and their (imho) apotheosis, "Monty Python and the Holy Grail."

If you want to open up the definition, much of troupe member Terry Gilliam's early solo directorial efforts had a very distinct Python flavor and often featured fellow players, notably "Time Bandits," "Brazil" and "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen." Gilliam's one of my absolute favorite directors, so for me the humor of Python has no clear demarcation from his darkly absurdist fantasies.

And then there is "The Crimson Permanent Assurance," the 17-minute short film directed by Gilliam that opens "Meaning of Life," which for my money packs in the most Monty Python hilarity frame-for-frame.

There's a lot of good stuff in "Brian," though it works more as satire than as out-and-out comedy. The Romans are sent up with the easiest jokes: Pontius Pilate talks like Elmer Fudd, and his visiting friend, Biggus Dickus, sprays sibilant s's all over the place. The Jewish crowd, responding to Pilate's offer to release one prisoner from crucifixion as a gesture of goodwill, continually names starting with R or S to keep the party going.

It's interesting how times change. I also remember one of the biggest laughs in "The Princess Bride" is when the bishop opens the wedding scene: "Maiwwage is what bwings us togethaw today." I'm guessing it's only a matter of time before funny-sounding speech impediments go into the rapidly expanding chest of PC no-go zones for comedy.

The Jewish rebels are portrayed as penny-ante bureaucrats more concerned with activity than action. Calling themselves the People's Front of Judea, they throw about anarchist talk while never actually doing anything besides holding meetings and taking votes. In addition to the Romans they're also at odds with the various other factions, including the Judean People's Front, who eventually turn up and are equally unhelpful.

You know the Python shtick: the six members, who all co-write their material -- Gilliam, John Cleese, Graham Chapman, Eric Idle, Michael Palin and Terry Jones (who also directs) -- each play multiple parts, without even bothering to try to hide the fact. They use chirpy voices, various accents of the British isles and even changes of gender to swap things up. The most notable drag player is Jones, who uses a signature screeching caterwaul to play matronly figures, in this case mother of Brian (Chapman).

One female character, a rebel named Judith, is played by an actual woman, Sue Jones-Davies. I suspect this is because of her frontal nude scene after bedding Brian (who also flashes his front naughty bits) and confronting his mother. I don't think even the Python fellows thought they could fake that.

Speaking of blurring gender lines, one member of the PFJ suddenly announces that he wants to be known as a woman from now on, and after some initial confusion, the others accept this openly. It may be the very first positive portrayal of a transgender person in mainstream film.

For me the best part of "Life of Brian" is when he first gains followers -- which he does after running from the Romans by hiding in a lineup of street prophets spouting off their various philosophies to the masses. Brian repeats some stuff he heard Jesus say in the Sermon on the Mount. Soon his newfound apostles are following him everywhere, mistaking his every word or action for heaven-sent wisdom and/or miracles, including when he loses a sandal. They pick up the smelly relic and declare it an artifact. One enterprising woman advocates for using a gourd as their holy symbol instead.

As Brian, Chapman is a nervous, kvetching would-be messiah, constantly wondering why people are so mad for their faith, or to crush another's. He spends much of the movie with his eyes bugged out and mouth set in a rictus of anguish.

Chapman was an interesting figure who died very young at age 48. He was openly gay in the early 1970s, which was unheard of for a public figure, let alone a private one. Chapman had a long struggle with alcohol but, worried that he couldn't play the lead in "Brian" while drinking, gave it up shortly before production began. He never imbibed again.

"The Life of Brian" seems to argue not just against religion in general, but on the vagaries of morality. People who do ill are rewarded, and those who behave nobly befall horrid fates.

For example, during the march to crucifixion with Brian and other convicts, one spectator bravely steps forward to help one of them as he stumbles under the weight of his cross. The condemned man immediately skedaddles off to freedom, while the helper is forced back into line with the rest and ultimately crucified.

In typical English stiff-upper-lip form, he barely complains.

Similarly, when Brian's name is read after (eventually) being pardoned by Pilate, another fellow pretends to be Brian as a joke, which leads to all the other crucified men proclaiming that "I'm Brian!" in a send-up of the end of "Spartacus." Still, the jokester is the one freed, even after revealing the gag, while the real Brian remains.

"Life of Brian" is a classic example of a better idea for a movie than the one they actually made. In general I'm a Python fan, but here I'm their cinematic Judas.

Video review: "Jupiter Ascending"

One of the largest box office bombs in recent memory, “Jupiter Ascending” just may mark the end of big-budget filmmaking for the Wachowski siblings. After lighting up imaginations and accountant spreadsheets with “The Matrix,” the Wachowskis have failed to capture lightning in a bottle again.

This lackluster sci-fi adventure represents their last, dim spark.

Mila Kunis and Channing Tatum are two underwhelming performers, and their combination yields exponential results in sheer thespian dreadfulness. Kunis substitutes a pinch-faced pout for emotion, and Tatum’s expression when his character is in turmoil mostly closely resembles constipation.

She is Jupiter Jones, lowly maid who turns out to be the inheritor of the Earth – literally – who’s being hunted by her family (sorta), an all-powerful galactic clan who harvest entire planets for the life essence of the inhabitants. Eddie Redmayne slithers and whispers as the main baddie.

He is Caine Wise, a disgraced military man-turned-bounty hunter, who becomes Jupiter’s protector and, inevitably, romantic interest. It’s essentially one big chase story, with Jupiter being repeatedly kidnapped and rescued by the various warring factions.

There’s a plethora of cool, bizarre creatures, but they’re here and gone so fast they barely have time to register. Similarly, the action scenes are filled with nifty CG special effects, but are staged confusingly.

“Jupiter Ascending” is the sort of disaster that is best experienced as unintentional comedy. Invite some friends over for some “Mystery Science Theater 3000”-style spoofing.

Bonus features consist of a number of making-of featurettes. The DVD comes with “Jupiter Jones: Destiny Is Within Us” and “Jupiter Ascending: Genetically Spliced.”

Upgrade to the Blu-ray and you add “Caine Wise: Interplanetary Warrior,” “The Wachowskis: Minds Over Matter,” “Worlds Within Worlds Within Worlds,” “Bullet Time Evolved” and “From Earth to Jupiter (And Everywhere in Between).”

Movie:

Extras:

Review: "Jupiter Ascending"

"It's the sort of awful where you don't even really want to complain or criticize. You just feel bad for everyone involved."

That quote is from me, answering an email from a colleague who missed the screening of "Jupiter Ascending" due to circumstance. Normally I don't presume my e-scribblings to be worthy of sharing. But I realized as soon as I dashed it off that it's a perfect 22-word version of everything else you're about to read.

The Wachowski siblings made "The Matrix," which will stand the test of time as one of the great science fiction films. Their work has gotten more head-scratching as time has gone on, through two increasingly worse "Matrix" sequels, a daffy Day-glo romp in "Speed Racer," and the confusing-yet-still-grand "Cloud Atlas."

You can always count on the Wachowskis for sumptuous visuals, dazzling CG action and mind-trippy plots. "Jupiter Ascending" has all that, minus anything resembling a soul or artistry. If "Cloud Atlas" was nearly incoherent, this one gets us all the way there.

Watching it feels like being stuck in a bad video game we can't turn off.

The action scenes are so frenetic and fast-paced, you can barely even follow what's happening. And when things do slow down, you've got Mila Kunis and Channing Tatum to stumble, glassy-eyed, through some ridiculous dialogue. Over the years I've riffed on them separately as lifeless performers, but finally we have a movie where they can combine their wondertwin powers in terrible acting.

She is Jupiter Jones, daughter of a murdered Russian astronomer spending her days as a maid in Chicago, cleaning toilets along with her mother and aunt, and hating life. Then one day Tatum shows up as Caine Wise -- I know, I know, these sound like porn actor names -- to protect her.

Tatum's get-up in this flick is just seriously weird. He's got brown hair but a blond goatee that looks like a Brillo pad spray-painted and stuck to his chin, plus heavily mascaraed eyes and pointy elf ears. Caine claims to be a genetically spliced half-wolf ex-military legionnaire "skyjacker" who used to have wings but they got cut off when he was court martialed for biting someone, and now works as a bounty hunter.

Y'know, just a boy from the block.

It seems the universe is actually controlled by competing siblings of the noble Abrasax clan, who like to let inhabited planets fill up with people and then harvest them to be turned into this blue goo that they use to stay immortal.

What's more, Jupiter is not just a lowly maid but the genetic "reoccurrence" of the Abrasax matron, which means she's actually royalty who owns the Earth, or something. The Abrasax overlords compete to see who can control Jupiter's fate, and she ends up getting kidnapped so many times we lose track of who's on first.

The worst of the lot is Balem, played by Eddie Redmayne using a strange low whisper/moan like he's trying to channel Greta Garbo on Valium. He sees Jupiter and her kin as mere playthings for the amusement and profit-making of their bettors.

"Life is an act of consumption. The humans on your planet are but a resource waiting to be turned into capital," Balem says, just in case the we-are-the-99-percent motif wasn't obvious enough for you.

Each of the three Abrasax factions has their own set of spaceships and henchmen, so we're treated to a constant parade of bizarre figures who appear and disappear quickly, including androids, lizardmen and a little elephant guy. A lot of the imagery is imaginative, but we're barely given enough time for it to register before more eye candy is thrown at us.

At one point, Gugu Mbatha-Raw turns up as a flunky with ears so ridiculously big and fake, they actually make Caine's seem cool.

The only time I smiled was when Jupiter and Caine wade into an intergalactic bureaucracy to establish her birthright, and it's a dense Dickensian steampunk fantasy of hobbit-like figures and gadgetry, and I thought we'd suddenly wandered into a Terry Gilliam movie. And we did, or at least a brief homage, complete with Gilliam himself.

But then it becomes "Jupiter Ascending" again, and how depressing is that?

Reeling Backward: "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen" (1988)

As a confirmed Terry Gilliam fan, I'm always discovering new things in his movies every time I see them. His films are such dense cauldrons of imagination, it's easy to miss all the ingredients he puts into every strange (but usually wonderful) brew.

For instance, after seeing "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen" for the first time in many years, I learned that Sally Salt, the young girl who accompanies the baron on the aforementioned adventures, was played by a wee Sarah Polley.

Polley would go on to become a well-regarded queen of indie films, along with the occasional mainstream one (like last summer's "Splice") and directing "Away from Her" (which is a lovely film, but as I've pointed out before, the story of a woman with Alzheimer's growing distant from her husband should properly have been titled, "Away from Him").

"Munchausen" was regarded as a special-effects extravaganza when it first came out (barely -- in a dispute over the changing of studio regimes, the film was only released on 117 screens). More than 20 years on, the effects already look a bit dated, but I think this only adds to the film's antiquated charm.

Like many of Gilliam's cerebral, impish films, "Munchausen" toes the line between rationality and fantasy, gleefully incorporating both into the same story. Trying to describe a Gilliam narrative is like trying to catch the amorphous tail of a passing zephyr.

The story is set in the 1700s -- "The Age of Reason," an opening title helpfully informs us. In this case, monarchs and politicians enable a 30-year-long war governed by rules and laws that only serve to prolong the suffering. Because it's Wednesday, the soldiers of an (unnamed) European city are compelled not to fight back against the Turks laying siege. The sultan and the European leader (Jonathan Pryce) argue about whose turn it is to surrender

The Pryce character, The Right Ordinary Horatio Jackson, orders one of his soldiers (a cameo by Sting) beheaded for heroism, since his extraordinary actions will make the other soldiers feel bad about themselves. It's a mindset that twists rationality into a trap that further debases humanity.

Into this carefully ordered madness steps the Baron, played by John Neville in an underrated performance of wit and bravado. Neville had mostly been known as a stage and television actor until then; Gilliam casting him in the lead role while in his early 60s rejuvenated his film career.

Based on a real historical figure known for exaggerating his exploits, Baron von Munchausen is a fantastic liar who claims to be the greatest truth-teller the world has ever known. He's an emissary of imagination, urging those around him to abandon their reasoned thoughts -- even if but for a little while -- and let their minds wander.

Aged and decrepit, the baron stumbles into a theater troupe performing the story of his life and interrupts the play, howling at the inaccuracies. He proceeds to tell the real story ... or at least the one he has just made up.

It's interesting that the story, by Gilliam and longtime collaborator Charles McKeown, is essentially one long attempt to gather up the Baron's old team. The actual battle with the Turks is barely more than a coda.

There's Gustavus (Jack Purvis), a dwarf -- Gilliam's fondness for Little People is evident in the fact he always includes at least one in his movies -- with extraordinary hearing, and lungs so powerful he can blow down a regiment of enemies at a gust. Albrecht (Winston Dennis) is huge and strong, but secretly yearns to be subservient and dainty.

Berthold (Eric Idle) can run halfway across the world in an hour -- his legs are so powerful, he must wear a ball and chain on each lest he take off like a shot. And Adolphus (McKeown) is the greatest marksman in the world.

Sally is the daughter of the theater troupe director, who stows away on the baron's air balloon. As is often the case in Gilliam films, the child represents the innocent nature of mankind, not yet weighed down by rationality and workaday concerns.

The various sequences veer wildly in tone and look. There's the strange sliding cityscape of the kingdom of the moon, where the king and queen seem to be the only occupants, and whose heads tend to come unstuck from their bodies. The head of the king (Robin Williams) can't stand his body, being forced to endure crass things like flatulence and orgasms, but is flummoxed when he gets an itch on his nose.

One of the most memorable sequences is when they land in the underworld of the god Vulcan (Oliver Reed), a petulant ogre dealing with labor problems from the cyclops union. An 18-year-old Uma Thurman, in one of her first screen roles, plays Venus, emerging nude from her clam shell in a stunning, indelible moment that blends mythology, lust and bon vivant romance.

I really enjoy how the Baron ages back and forth according to how well the adventure is faring -- after arriving on the moon, he is rejuvenated back into a man in his prime. After Vulcan tosses them out of his realm, he reverts to an old codger.

It's an apt metaphor for watching Gilliam's films, which always make me feel like a child again. Would that real life could flow the way it does in "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen."

3.5 stars out of four

Video review: "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus"

"The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus" is a fitting final bow for star Heath Ledger, who died midway through the shooting of this kooky, wonderful flight of fancy from director Terry Gilliam ("The Fisher King").

Ledger plays Tony, a mysterious figure with amnesia who gets adopted by a traveling theater troupe whose featured act, Dr. Parnassus (Christopher Plummer) is a (literally) ancient mystic. Living like circus carnies, they put on a show in which people can wander through a dreamscape of Parnassus' creation, where they're tempted by the Devil himself (Tom Waits).

Since reality is unsettled inside the Imaginarium, Tony changes appearance every time he goes inside (Jude Law, Colin Farrell and Johnny Depp lent a hand to stand in for Ledger). Even though it's an ad-hoc necessity, it's still a lovely storytelling device.

Gilliam spins his most Gilliam-esque tale, one full of strange metaphysical themes, computer-generated universes and shadowy motives.

The film died in theaters, but I'm truly hoping audiences will give it a chance on video. I would hate the idea that, like Parnassus, Gilliam is a forgotten old man spinning his odd tales for a world that has stopped listening.

As you might expect, DVD extras on this film wouldn't be complete without an exploration of how the production was affected by the death of Ledger, and "Parnassus" certainly delivers.
The most wrenching bits are costume and makeup tests with Ledger, and an audio interview right before shooting started. Gilliam says cast and crew gathered to discuss if it was even possible to complete the movie.

Seven featurettes explore various topics such the CGI creative process and the film's red carpet moments. In an introduction and feature-length commentary, Gilliam is an amusing and illuminating guide -- at one point he confesses that even he's not certain of Dr. Parnassus' exact history and powers.

He says he started out wanting to make something "light and joyful," without the neuroses that he'd been exploring all his career. If that was his aim with "Parnassus," then he certainly failed.
But for real Gilliam fans, it's the very irrational nature of his imagination that make him such a compelling filmmaker.

In addition to the aforementioned features, the Blu-ray version also has "The Imaginarium of Terry Gilliam" and remembrances of Ledger by cast and crew.

Movie: 3.5 stars out of four
Extras: 3.5 stars

Review: "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus"

To my mind, there really are only two kinds of people in the world: Those who think that Terry Gilliam is a cinematic genius, and those who are mistaken.

The former animator and member of the Monty Python troupe has had his ups and downs -- more down lately. In fact, he seems cursed.

Gilliam's last film, "Tideland," was barely released. The Don Quixote project he spent years trying to make fell apart -- the only tickets sold were for "Lost in La Mancha," a documentary chronicling the fiasco.

Consider his latest, "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus." His star, Heath Ledger, died tragically less than halfway through shooting. One week after wrapping, producer William Vince passed away. During post-production work, Gilliam was hit by a car and broke his back.

It's a minor miracle that "Parnassus" was even finished. That it's Gilliam's best film since 1991's "The Fisher King" should be considered a sign the gods are smiling on him, despite his misfortune.

The subtext of this film couldn't be clearer coming from a 69-year-old director whose battles with the studio system are legendary: It's about an ancient mystic who believes storytelling is what binds the universe together, spinning his tales for a world that has stopped listening.

Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer) lives like a sideshow carny, travelling around London in a ramshackle wagon/stage/domicile, using psychic powers to offer passers-by a chance to wander through his mind, where their own imaginations can run wild.

Gilliam uses computer-generated imagery to depict the fantastic worlds conjured inside Parnassus' brain, where ladders rise miles high into the sky, or giant jewels twinkle like celestial stars lassoed and pulled down to earth.

Like James Cameron with "Avatar," Gilliam uses computers to paint his screen with images impossible to render with live action, rather than letting special effects overwhelm his story. It's like watching one of Gilliam's "Monty Python" morphing animations brought to life.

Joining the doctor's troupe are his teen daughter, Valentina (Lily Cole), who yearns to give up vagabond life for hearth and home; Anton (Andrew Garfield), the emcee who secretly adores Valentina; and Percy (Verne Troyer), a pint-sized figure whose supernatural pedigree is at least as complicated as Parnassus'.

Troyer delivers a great line early on, when asked where they are: "Geographically, in the northern hemisphere; socially, on the margins; and narratively, with some way to go."

One night after a typically disastrous performance, they stumble upon a man hanging from a noose under a bridge. Discovering him to be somehow still alive, they soon incorporate the amnesiatic fellow into their stage act.

This man, whose name is eventually found to be Tony, is played by Ledger. The obvious question everyone will have is how much the movie suffers from having its star unable to complete much of his filming. And the truth is, not as much as you'd think.

Gilliam, who co-write the script with Charles McKeown, cleverly uses Johnny Depp, Colin Farrell and Jude Law to play Tony during scenes inside the Imaginarium. Since reality is bendable in there, and Tony's loyalties remain in doubt, it actually seems logical to have his physical likeness in flux.

The plot is driven by a wager between Parnassus and the Devil himself, Mr. Nick (a sly and scrumptious Tom Waits), with Valentina's soul at stake. The doctor will spin tales of light and goodness, and Nick of lust and fulfillment, to see which they choose.

"The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus" can best be described as Terry Gilliam's most Gilliam-esque movie. It's fun, playful, shocking, silly, and bursting with originality.

3.5 stars