This is Terry Gilliam's third existentialist science-fiction movie, after 'Twelve Monkeys' and 'Brazil', which explores the idea of trying to find meaning amongst chaos. In those movies, the off kilter art direction felt more restrained, as well as more symbolic of the underlying themes being explored. Here, the visuals are as loud, eye-popping, and inventive as ever, but come close to self- parody, and begin to look gaudy, cluttered, and ludicrous. It's a world that's harder to believe in, as it looks more transparently staged than any other Terry Gilliam film. This is partly the result of Terry Gilliam lacking the budget that was needed in order to invent a world that looked truly futuristic or dazzling.
The philosophy fits into the world Gilliam's created, but falls flat when removed from its context. Much of the film consists of ham- fisted discussions on the meaninglessness of life, inside a decaying junk shop chapel which Quohen spends most of his time in. Maybe that's it; the meaningless of life is more just talked about, rather than delivered, and leaves it feeling like a theoretical exercise. The threat, danger, and tragic, inescapable conclusions in some of Gilliam's best films are absent here. There just doesn't seem to be much at stake and thus less reason to become wrapped up in Quohen's search for meaning. The other thing is that unlike Gilliam's earlier films, the attempts at humor in this film rarely land. However, there's a great metaphor about searching for meaning, which involves Quohen Leth piecing blocks together on a high-tech computer system, only for them to explode apart, leaving him to start back over again.
Where the film does succeed, like the Imaginarium in Gilliam's previous feature film, are the sequences set in a virtual reality system, which includes a tropical beach where the sun doesn't set, and a void in outer space. Although still highly stylized, these moments elevate the movie, giving it a romantic, dreamlike, and magical air, and feel like the intimate, refreshing antidote we needed to the zany clutter of Quohen's otherwise existence. However, although it opens up the possibility of unlimited imagination, it lacks the ever changing excitement of the Imaginarium, as these two environments are the only places that seem to be featured in the virtual reality system.
Another point where the film succeeds is the romantic, emotional, human elements of it, which are as ever handled with subtlety and a lack of sentimentality, although the breakup seemed too abrupt and forced. Terry Gilliam has always known how to wrap a story up and this is no exception. The film ends on a peaceful, optimistic, and quietly touching note, leaving a tinge of aching loss, and as ever, asks the viewer to decide what's real or imagined, it also features a droll cover of 'Creep' by 'Radiohead'. It leaves with a message, which seems to be that it's only when you fully embrace chaos and emptiness that you find peace.
The philosophy fits into the world Gilliam's created, but falls flat when removed from its context. Much of the film consists of ham- fisted discussions on the meaninglessness of life, inside a decaying junk shop chapel which Quohen spends most of his time in. Maybe that's it; the meaningless of life is more just talked about, rather than delivered, and leaves it feeling like a theoretical exercise. The threat, danger, and tragic, inescapable conclusions in some of Gilliam's best films are absent here. There just doesn't seem to be much at stake and thus less reason to become wrapped up in Quohen's search for meaning. The other thing is that unlike Gilliam's earlier films, the attempts at humor in this film rarely land. However, there's a great metaphor about searching for meaning, which involves Quohen Leth piecing blocks together on a high-tech computer system, only for them to explode apart, leaving him to start back over again.
Where the film does succeed, like the Imaginarium in Gilliam's previous feature film, are the sequences set in a virtual reality system, which includes a tropical beach where the sun doesn't set, and a void in outer space. Although still highly stylized, these moments elevate the movie, giving it a romantic, dreamlike, and magical air, and feel like the intimate, refreshing antidote we needed to the zany clutter of Quohen's otherwise existence. However, although it opens up the possibility of unlimited imagination, it lacks the ever changing excitement of the Imaginarium, as these two environments are the only places that seem to be featured in the virtual reality system.
Another point where the film succeeds is the romantic, emotional, human elements of it, which are as ever handled with subtlety and a lack of sentimentality, although the breakup seemed too abrupt and forced. Terry Gilliam has always known how to wrap a story up and this is no exception. The film ends on a peaceful, optimistic, and quietly touching note, leaving a tinge of aching loss, and as ever, asks the viewer to decide what's real or imagined, it also features a droll cover of 'Creep' by 'Radiohead'. It leaves with a message, which seems to be that it's only when you fully embrace chaos and emptiness that you find peace.