The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (Terry Gilliam, 1988)
Writing about the Baky version of Munchausen got me to thinking about Gilliam's version, and I decided to do a little post on that. Just a few random thoughts.
Even though it's far from my favorite Gilliam film, I think it's one that goes a long way towards explaining why I consider him my favorite filmmaker. He's such an odd bird in the American film industry, which is generally divided sharply between big-budget film-as-spectacle productions and small, idiosyncratic films. Gilliam's films seem to stretch across this void, being both idiosyncratic (to say the least) and great spectacle. Which is exactly why he has so much trouble getting films made.
The first time I saw Munchausen was an interesting experience. I was in D.C., visiting my friend Tercio, and he had some extremely good pot. We got incredibly stoned and went to eat Ethiopian food. This was my first experience with Ethiopian cuisine, and it blew me away--I remember that meal more vividly than the movie. It was so intensely flavored, and so alien. You didn't even use silverware--just break off a piece of pita-like bread and scoop up one of the various piles of brightly-colored mush on the plate.
Then we went to see Munchausen, and smoked even more on the way. By the time we got seated, I was completely baked, and being in a strange city only intensified that experience. I remember that the theater was really nice, with a huge screen, and we got good seats in the center near the front. I was so stoned that I actually zoned out for maybe 15 minutes. Watching it later on video, I didn't recall the Hephastus scene at all. I just remember Tercio, who was watching it for the second time, nudging me and saying "watch this" during the great battle sequence at the end, and realizing that I hadn't really been watching the film for a while.
I believe the part he was pointing out to me was when Albrecht the strong man lifts up the anchor chains of the turkish ships and spins them around, hurling them into the distance, which is such a monumentally astounding Gilliam move (certainly not one unenhanced by the effects of marijuana). There's just such a try anything attitude in this movie.
I wasn't overwhelmingly positive about the movie on that first viewing. I thought it was a visual treat with a sloppy, uneven narrative that could have used a little discipline. In particular, the scenes of Munchausen being pursued by the angel of death seemed extraneous and distracting, and the meta reality-within-reality stuff seemed overplayed. Now, with the sophisitication that comes with age, this is the stuff I find most interesting about the film.
There is one aspect that does still grate on me just slightly. The film is set in "The Age of Reason," and one of the central themes is the conflict between The Dreamer, represented by Baron Munchausen, and the cold logic and utilitarianism of society, represented chiefly by Jonathan Pryce's character, The Right Ordinary Horation Jackson. Jackson is a beurocrat who believes only in logic and reason, and who denounces heroism and risk as well as fantasy (in an apocalyptic fantasy out of Ayn Rand, he sentences a military hero to death for being exceptional). Now, I lean pretty far towards the Dreamer side of this equation myself, but even I feel a little uncomfortable with how far Gilliam's ideology pushes this idea. When Munchausen demands, in the film's climax, that the city "Open the gates," despite there being no reason to believe (at least from the townspeople's point of view) that there is not a Turkish army on the other side waiting to kill them all, I can't help but think of that quote from the Bush aide snearing at the "reality-based community." Dreams are great and all, but when you throw Reason out the window, you leave the door open to any two-bit wannabe dictator that comes along to sell you your own doom disguised as a monorail.
Even though it's far from my favorite Gilliam film, I think it's one that goes a long way towards explaining why I consider him my favorite filmmaker. He's such an odd bird in the American film industry, which is generally divided sharply between big-budget film-as-spectacle productions and small, idiosyncratic films. Gilliam's films seem to stretch across this void, being both idiosyncratic (to say the least) and great spectacle. Which is exactly why he has so much trouble getting films made.
The first time I saw Munchausen was an interesting experience. I was in D.C., visiting my friend Tercio, and he had some extremely good pot. We got incredibly stoned and went to eat Ethiopian food. This was my first experience with Ethiopian cuisine, and it blew me away--I remember that meal more vividly than the movie. It was so intensely flavored, and so alien. You didn't even use silverware--just break off a piece of pita-like bread and scoop up one of the various piles of brightly-colored mush on the plate.
Then we went to see Munchausen, and smoked even more on the way. By the time we got seated, I was completely baked, and being in a strange city only intensified that experience. I remember that the theater was really nice, with a huge screen, and we got good seats in the center near the front. I was so stoned that I actually zoned out for maybe 15 minutes. Watching it later on video, I didn't recall the Hephastus scene at all. I just remember Tercio, who was watching it for the second time, nudging me and saying "watch this" during the great battle sequence at the end, and realizing that I hadn't really been watching the film for a while.
I believe the part he was pointing out to me was when Albrecht the strong man lifts up the anchor chains of the turkish ships and spins them around, hurling them into the distance, which is such a monumentally astounding Gilliam move (certainly not one unenhanced by the effects of marijuana). There's just such a try anything attitude in this movie.
I wasn't overwhelmingly positive about the movie on that first viewing. I thought it was a visual treat with a sloppy, uneven narrative that could have used a little discipline. In particular, the scenes of Munchausen being pursued by the angel of death seemed extraneous and distracting, and the meta reality-within-reality stuff seemed overplayed. Now, with the sophisitication that comes with age, this is the stuff I find most interesting about the film.
There is one aspect that does still grate on me just slightly. The film is set in "The Age of Reason," and one of the central themes is the conflict between The Dreamer, represented by Baron Munchausen, and the cold logic and utilitarianism of society, represented chiefly by Jonathan Pryce's character, The Right Ordinary Horation Jackson. Jackson is a beurocrat who believes only in logic and reason, and who denounces heroism and risk as well as fantasy (in an apocalyptic fantasy out of Ayn Rand, he sentences a military hero to death for being exceptional). Now, I lean pretty far towards the Dreamer side of this equation myself, but even I feel a little uncomfortable with how far Gilliam's ideology pushes this idea. When Munchausen demands, in the film's climax, that the city "Open the gates," despite there being no reason to believe (at least from the townspeople's point of view) that there is not a Turkish army on the other side waiting to kill them all, I can't help but think of that quote from the Bush aide snearing at the "reality-based community." Dreams are great and all, but when you throw Reason out the window, you leave the door open to any two-bit wannabe dictator that comes along to sell you your own doom disguised as a monorail.
posted by Chris Oliver at 3:55 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home