Crazy Heart (2009)

Crazy Heart tells the story of Bad Blake, a washed up country singer who is still touring the southwestern United States. He lives out of his old van and cheap motel rooms, and he hasn’t written a new song in over a decade. He ends up playing gigs anywhere that will hire him—bowling alleys, dive bars—and he seemingly lives largely off a diet consisting solely of whiskey. While on tour in a small Texas town, he meets a younger, attractive reporter, and they begin seeing each other. He later gets a chance to play bigger arenas again, but he would in turn become the opening act of one of his former protégés. If this story is starting to sound familiar to you, it’s because it’s really nothing new. For a recent example of this story, 2008’s excellent The Wrestler immediately comes to mind. Thankfully, the film succeeds because of its strong performances and assured direction. The film doesn’t have to rely on forced histrionics or big life lessons to convey its story. First time director Scott Cooper (who also adapted the screenplay based on Thomas Cobb’s book) shows great talent for handling these scenes. It keeps its focus on Bad Blake’s life, trying to make sense of his journey to find and keep love, friendship, and his musical career. It doesn’t hurt that Bad Blake is played by Jeff Bridges, who infuses Bad Blake with a sense of loss and world weariness that can be seen through each and every move. He also infuses a lot of wit and humor into his performance—his laconic drawl, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, a half cocked smile. It’s the little nuances that show you what an excellent actor Bridges can be, and it makes the film a pleasure to watch anytime he’s on screen (which is pretty much the entire film). Bridges even plays and sings his own songs in the film, and his stage persona during the performance scenes brings forward a naturalism that feels like he’s been on the road for years honing his craft. It’s the type of performance that already comes naturally to Bridges, but he fills in the blanks with such nuance and charisma that it becomes just so entertaining to watch.

While Bridges’ performance is the primary driving force behind the film, the supporting cast here is also strong enough to compliment him. Maggie Gyllenhaal, who plays the reporter Jean Craddock, effectively conveys the struggles of being both career-minded and a single mother, and her concern for Bad Blake also weighs heavy on her mind. Bad Blake’s protégé turned superstar Tommy Sweet (played effectively by Colin Farrell, who also sings his own songs) could have easily been set up as a ruthless antagonist, but by the time we met him, he’s respectful and loyal to Bad Blake, making sure not to forget his own roots. Robert Duvall (who played a washed up country star in 1983’s Tender Mercies) even shows up later as a bartender and an old friend of Bad Blake. Most of the conflict in the film comes from Bad Blake’s inner demons, and while it could have gone to darker places with Bad Blake’s alcoholism, it also doesn’t rely on being overly sentimental. The film seems to understand the toll a life on the road can take for a musician, and how lonely that life can often become.

Thanks to Bridges and company, effective writing and directing, and an excellent soundtrack, the film remains very enjoyable throughout (the soundtrack features both songs from Waylon Jennings and Townes Van Zandt and original songs written by T-Bone Burnett. “The Weary Kind”, written by Burnett and Ryan Bingham, shows its Van Zandt influence to create a song that is very effective. Also, original song “I Don’t Know” is highly infectious). The film may play it a little too conventional at times (more so during the final third of the film), and some of the subplots don’t seem necessary (Bad Blake trying to contact his son seems forced, and the film would not have lost anything if the whole subplot was cut altogether). For any of its faults, however, Crazy Heart more than compensates by containing one of the best lines in recent memory—there is a scene where Bad Blake is being interviewed by Jean in his hotel room. They’re obviously being flirtatious, and when she asks him what he wants to talk about, he replies, "I want to talk about how bad you make this room look. I never knew what a dump it was until you came in here." It’s the type of line that catches you off-guard, puts a smile on your face, and you like it immediately. Much like this film.

Rating: 4 stars (out of 5)

Le Samouraï (1967)

We are introduced with a quote from the “The Book of Bushido”, stating, “There is no solitude greater than a samurai's, unless perhaps it is that of a tiger in the jungle.'' We find ourselves in a spacious apartment room, sparsely furnished. The room is dark, but two large windows illuminate the space with the evaporating light of the sunset. The space at first seems uninhibited, but then we suddenly see a thick cloud of smoke slowly rise from a bed in the lower section of the frame. A man is smoking in bed. He gets up, puts on a trench coat and fedora, and walks outside onto a busy Paris street. He calmly hijacks a car, and pulls out a key ring consisting of what seems to be over one hundred keys. One by one, he methodically begins inserting keys into the ignition, finally finding one that works. He drives to a mechanic located in a remote location, who proceeds to change out the license plate. The unidentified man gets out of the car and holds out his hand. Is he offering a handshake? His stern look suggests otherwise. The mechanic opens a drawer and pulls out a gun and hands it to the man. The man gives the mechanic some cash and drives away, finally arriving at a woman’s apartment. As she is about the open the door, she says the man’s name—“Jef”. This is the first line of dialogue spoken in the film, occurring nearly ten minutes into the running time. What’s fascinating about these opening scenes is that we’ve learned everything we need to know about Jef, our protagonist, without even hearing a single word uttered. He is cold and methodical in his actions. He is a solitary man, choosing to live a life free from many possessions or much interaction. He is impeccably cool.

Jean-Pierre Melville’s excellent film Le Samouraï is well versed in cinema’s history and various genres, all while taking those conventions and paring them down to their essence all while adding a existentialist bent to the proceedings. Melville’s knowledge and love of past genres is always present, ranging from gangster films of the 30s, film noir of the 40s, samurai films of the 50s and even the French New Wave scene of the 60s. Even though these influences are always present, the film thankfully never feels like a rehash but instead creates its own character and style through Melville’s confident direction. There is hardly a wasted shot in this film, as we follow around hitman Jef Costello as he calmly, methodically goes about his day. We see him enter a nightclub and take out a hit on the owner in a back room. Unfortunately, he is seen by one of the singers, and he is later arrested and taken in for a police lineup and questioning. Most films would probably only spend a minute or two in the police headquarters and then get back to the action, but Melville chooses to create an entire extended scene out of the police headquarters, creating a highly engaging and captivating sequence. The entire time at the headquarters is also largely wordless, charged almost entirely through characters’ glances and psychological games, trying to get some answer out of any of the witnesses or to break any alibis. Jef’s clever thinking keeps his alibi sound, but the police inspector is dubious. On top of that, Jef’s arrest sends a red flag to his employer, who in turn decides to betray Jef. The story stays thrilling as Jef tries to elude all the forces that are after him, and the suspense is constant all the way up to the end.

Melville has crafted a film that is the epitome of cool but thankfully never feels like an empty exercise in style. The film takes conventional plot points (police procedural, assassin on the run, revenge, the code) and turns them into something that feels wholly unique just by stripping them down to their essence. Melville’s attention to detail also enhances both the characters and style of the film. Jef’s only worldly possessions besides clothes and little furniture seem to be rows and rows of water bottles, stacks of cigarettes, and a bird that he keeps in a cage in the middle of his apartment. The bird is a curious detail, but it even provides slight comic relief later in the film (Jef’s apartment is later bugged, and the cops get to listen to hours of tape of a bird chirping). Credit should also be given to cinematographer Henri Decaë for the film’s visual style, using a cool palette of blue and greys to convey not only the sparse interiors and dreary exteriors but also reflecting Jef’s mindset throughout the film. The acting is also top-notch all around, complimenting the film the entire way. Alain Delon gives an effective performance as a quiet, cold-blooded killer, only interested his code and his mission. He never relies on histrionics for the performance, choosing instead to introvert his character’s actions, in turn making his motives and determination all the more effective. Francois Perier, who plays the police inspector, also gives an incredible performance, creating a man determined at any cost to catch Jef on his bluff. The entire subway sequence is a master class in suspense and tension, all while creating a sense of claustrophobia for the main character as he tries to escape the cops. Film critic Roger Ebert also wrote, “The movie teaches us how action is the enemy of suspense--how action releases tension, instead of building it.” This is key to the film’s success, as it does not rely on typical action beats but rather trusts the viewer will find the story thrilling through the characters instead of action.

It’s easy to see how Le Samouraï has gone on to influence countless films, especially ones rooted in the crime drama. John Woo’s The Killer is proudly indebted, and I also immediately saw how this film’s minimalist style directly influenced the work of Jim Jarmusch (his 1999 film Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai also pays homage to Melville’s film). There is not a wasted scene in this film, and the patience the film shows with its story pays off in spades for the viewer. Melville’s masterful ability to create a sense of place through the most minimalist means creates a rich and rewarding viewing experience that will not be forgotten.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

Birdemic: Shock and Terror (2008)

(note: before I begin the review, I want to direct everyone to Birdemic’s craptastic trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgAbVfh6WYg

Incomprensible acting? Check? Mind-boggling special effects? Check. The incredible metal song proclaiming “THIS IS BIRDEMIC!!!!!”? Check. It’s everything you would want (and need) out of a trailer to make you excited about seeing this movie. In fact, it’s probably what you should watch instead of the movie.

Rating: 5 stars (out of 5)

Ok, now that we all have that out of our system, onto the review…)

Oh boy. This review may come as a shock (shock and terror, you say?) to some, and perhaps an obvious statement to others, but Birdemic: Shock and Terror is a terrible, terrible movie. Not even achieving “so-bad-it’s-good” status, Birdemic is content on being an incompetent, incoherent mess. About halfway through watching this wreck of a movie, I wondered, “Surely, this is just an elaborate joke being played on the audience—an endurance test of sorts.” Had I walked into a Lars Von Trier movie by mistake? Am I supposed to be provoked into a ball of frustration, anger, shock and…terror? I was definitely provoked, alright. But more on that later.

The movie opens with a nausea-inducing credits sequence, where the camera seems to have been placed in the passenger seat of a car driving through the northern California hills. We meet Rod and Nathalie, two twenty-somethings that meet cute and begin dating. He’s an engineer shopping ideas around for a “big sale” (did someone say….one million dollars?); she’s a model on her way to becoming the cover girl for Victoria’s Secret. After a night of “passion”, something goes awry—that’s right: birdemic! Cue the metal song (or not, since it’s nowhere to be found in the movie. I kind of wish it was. It at least would have added some fun to the proceedings.). The couple proceed to fight off birds with…coathangers….then make their escape with another couple to a van containing semi-automatic weapons. They then proceed to drive along the interstate, helping people along the way, shooting birds, and stopping for the occasional picnic outside (the birds conveniently leave our heroes alone while enjoying an afternoon picnic). They also encounter some strangers who proceed to tell them about the dangers of global warming and how the birds are just angry at all the people driving their cars and wasting fossil fuels. Then, (spoiler alert?), after many lives have been lost due to leaving the windows rolled down in their cars (or maybe it was the bad musak version of John Lennon’s “Imagine” that caused them to keel over) the birds get bored and fly away. Cue end credits. Seriously, they get bored and fly away. The end.

Director James Nguyen, self-proclaimed “Master of The Romantic Thriller™”, created the movie as a labor of love and owing an obvious debt to Alfred Hitchcock’s classic The Birds. The problem here isn’t the sincerity—it’s the actual lack of any talent whatsoever. Of which there is none to be seen. The acting is wooden at best. The movie has a home video quality to it, with no lighting choices to be seen. All the audio is recorded through the camera, so if a car passes by during a scene of dialogue, good luck deciphering what was just said. The editing is downright atrocious—some scenes go on much longer than is necessary, others seem to cut off abruptly. Any scene which has a character wax poetic about global warming brings the film to an absolute halt. The ending is downright lazy. And what to say of the CGI birds? They’re by far the best thing about the movie, and they are about the only source of comic relief from the director. The birds seem to envelop the whole of the screen, never portraying any sense of realism or depth perception in the slightest. They also seem to have the ability to leave explosive poop droppings, which at least made me laugh every time that happened—just out of the sheer absurdity of it all.

So what to make of Birdemic’s rising status as a cult movie among midnight movie circuit? The movie is less than two years old (and only this year has it seemed to gain a following, seeing multiple releases among selected theaters), but it has captured some sort of cultural zeitgeist (at least among the film geek crowd). Much like another recent midnight movie hit, Tommy Wisseau’s wonderfully awful The Room, Birdemic has been bringing people in expecting at least something so bad they could laugh and enjoy themselves. Upon attending the midnight screening at Nashville’s excellent Belcourt Theatre, we were informed that we would probably leave the movie “seething with rage and anger”. We all laughed it off, knowing that we were inflicting the pain ourselves. At least we would have a good time with it, we thought to ourselves. Uh-huh. Well, when the movie finished, we were definitely filled with rage, but that enjoyment factor never really arrived. As I walked out of the movie, I said aloud “well, that was just awful,” and everyone around me gave me a nod of approval. They were probably just as speechless as I felt. I just couldn’t believe it. I’ve seen plenty of terrible movies in my day—how did this one somehow trump them all?

The problem with Birdemic isn’t that it doesn’t try. It tries really, really hard. I never doubted its earnestness for a second. What makes me angry is that the filmmakers had to realize what they created was a steaming pile, and they decided to release it anyway. There seemed to be no effort to make it better—this is what was created, and this is what the audience will get, and they’ll like it (or not). You could say I brought this all upon myself by watching it (I mean, you watched the trailer, right? What did you expect?). However, what seems to separate Birdemic from most other terrible movies (The Room, Ed Wood’s work) might just come down to a kind of cult of personality. The Room is also awful, no doubt, but it has been lovingly embraced by its audience, creating a truly incredible theatrical viewing experience (really the only true way to watch The Room—I doubt watching the movie on DVD will render it anything but an awful train wreck). The other factor that benefits The Room is that its auteur, Tommy Wisseau, is a genuinely odd dude, but this fact also informs his entire film. You can’t escape it. You come to the realization that Tommy Wisseau the character (or Johnny in the movie) and Tommy Wisseau the man aren’t that much different. The same can be said for something like Ed Wood’s Glen or Glenda, a truly strange movie. Ed Wood spends half the movie walking around in women’s cardigan sweaters, and you get a sense this isn’t an act. This is a look into the man himself, and what you see is truly weird, confounding, and somehow memorable (in its own terrible way). I don’t get any of this watching Birdemic. The movie doesn’t get weird enough to become memorable, and I don’t even get the feeling that the director has contributed anything to this movie. I also don’t think the audience really gets the ability to latch onto anything and make it their own. That’s because there is nothing in here worth riffing on, unless it’s the groan inducing speeches about global warming being the reason the birds are attacking. This movie should not have been released to an audience. It makes most other terrible movies I’ve seen in my lifetime not as terrible by default. This just makes me wish I had watched The Room instead.

Rating: Zero stars (out of 5)

Ski School (1991)

Ski School is a third-rate Animal House, where the fun-loving party animals are pitted against the humorless preppy gang. That tells you pretty much everything you need to know about this venture. I wonder which group is going to win out in the end? If movies have taught me anything, then my guess is on the preppies. It’s the type of movie you would find on USA Network’s Up All Night programming block at two in the morning as you are drifting off into your dream state, where all your fantasies of becoming a slacker ski instructor can vividly come to life. It contains the all the comedic tropes and fashion sensibilities of a raunchy (even though it feels decidedly un-raunchy) film that would have been made in 1986, even though it wasn’t released until 1991. Seeing how it aims to be low-rate comedy, it comes packaged complete with your usual checklist of necessary details--sex, parties, alcohol, practical jokes, the “new guy”, the romantic interest, one-line zingers, a mysterious entrepreneur that could double as a prostitute, a skiing competition for the ownership of the mountain—you know, everything you could possibly want from any fun time! In its quest for verisimilitude, however, some questions still linger—namely, if the group of party animals are so lazy, how come they not only possess uncanny video editing skills (as seen in the scene where they edit the video of the two of the prepsters about to get into bed together—hilarity ensues!), but they also seem to have an unlimited supply of cash and resources at their disposal (note the endless cases of beer, the funds to host party after party of the entire mountain. Where is the riveting documentary on ski school I was promised?

It’s pretty obvious the filmmakers and actors were having fun with the material, no matter how flat the jokes land or how broad the characters are painted. It’s not aiming to be high art by any means, but it at least could have contained some (any) humorous scenes. Viewed in a time capsule, the movie does provide an interesting purgatory between the sensibilities of the 80s low-brow comedy with the existential phenomenon of Gen-X culture on the horizon (except for the fact that Richard Linklater’s breakthrough film Slacker came out the same year, so maybe Ski School was already dead on arrival). It was also most likely one of the direct influences for Hot Tub Time Machine. You probably already know exactly what type of movie this is. However, if you still aren’t quite sure yet, here’s a test—this Ferris Bueller-esque nugget of wisdom, spoken by the lovable Dave Marshak (Dean Cameron) in a pep talk, sums up everything about Ski School’s sensibility: “It’s not how far you go, it’s how go you far.” If you just looked at that with a dead-eyed stare, then it’s probably the same way you’ll feel about this movie. At least it didn't go as far as Birdemic.

Rating: ½ star (out of 5)

Iron Man 2 (2010)

The beginning of the summer blockbuster season has officially begun, but unfortunately it’s stumbled out of the gate with Iron Man 2. One of the problems with the movie isn’t it’s willingness to please, it’s the fact that the filmmakers are trying to please everyone, thus robbing the film of much of its own personality and in turn creating very flat, disengaging viewing experience. While it succeeds in giving the audience a bigger spectacle than the efficient first film, Iron Man 2 tries to cram in too many characters and sub-plots, leaving me caring less and less about the characters and their stories by the end of it all. Director Jon Favreau was able to give us a breezy and witty first film, so what exactly changed?

Part of the problem was that the plot becomes so busy with multiple characters and unrelated scenes that it almost becomes an exercise of connecting the dots to figure out how the plotline you enjoy the most will come to its tidy conclusion. Are you ready for this? You have Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr., his performance still one of the highlights of the movie) relishing in his success with “privatizing national security” with Iron Man suit now coming under scrutiny from the government (led by Garry Shandling playing an oily senator). You also have physicist Ivan Vanko (Mickey Rourke, giving the character an introspective menace) building his own suit to take revenge against the Stark for some unresolved issues between his father and Stark’s father. There’s also Justin Hammer (Sam Rockwell, relishing in the weasely qualities of his character, even seemingly sporting a bad spray-on tan in some scenes), who is trying to build his own army of robots for the government to push Stark out of the business. Also, Stark’s assistant Pepper Potts (Gwenyth Paltrow, somewhat confusingly giving her character a more frazzled personality than the first movie) has now been given the keys to Stark Industries, and she’s having to deal with not only the pressures from the outside world but also Stark’s indifferent attitude towards his own company. Potts hires mysterious new assistant Natasha (Scarlet Johansson, unfortunately reduced to little more than flirtatious glances and a few acrobatic moves), who may know a little more than she’s leading on, and also the return of Stark’s buddy Lt. James Rhodes (Don Cheadle, replacing Terrence Howard from the first film), whose big scene comes when he has to break up a party by brandishing one of Stark’s old suits and becoming sidekick War Machine. Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson, hamming it up just so he doesn’t get lost) also shows up to talk about the Avengers project. Oh, and Tony Stark’s chest plate is also causing him to die, further increasing his downward spiral into alcoholism. Are you still reading? It’s a lot to take in, and at least half of the sub-plots were entirely unnecessary--namely, Scarlet Johansson’s character and Sam Jackson’s appearance as Nick Fury.

One of the primary joys of the original Iron Man was its sense of wonderment and discovery that Tony Stark feels as he builds and tests the abilities of his newly acquired suit. Thankfully, that sense of joy translated well to the audience, and the movie contained a certain sense of energy that was hard to deny. Couple that with a wonderfully egotistical performance from Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark, and the movie succeeded by keeping the plot lean and efficient. Thankfully, Downey is still one of the primary highlights of the sequel, not losing a beat as the hyperactive and narcissistic Stark. I always felt that the least interesting part of the first film were the fight scenes, especially the final fight between Iron Man and his nemesis. It almost felt like an unnecessary add-on to all the engaging interactions the characters had experienced prior to that point. Unfortunately, Iron Man 2 seems to at least double all the action, which still stands to reason as the weakest point of these films. Both movies seem to do well with their interactions among the characters while managing to fall flat when it comes to action. It seems almost counter-intuitive for superhero flicks to have the action scenes become the most boring part, but I found more energy and excitement in the scenes between Downey and Rockwell or Rourke when they were sitting down debating physics instead of duking it out like Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots.

The movie isn’t incompetently made by any means, and thankfully the filmmakers knowingly keep the proceedings filled with wit and humor. It’s just unfortunate that the film manages to succumb to the inherent problem with many sequels--it’s too busy. I found myself bored with at least half of the subplots, and the action felt borderline generic to a fault (save for one exciting sequence involving Mickey Rourke’s character tearing up a Formula-1 racetrack.). The movie feels more like a misstep that could easily be corrected by removing all unnecessary characters or hints of future sequels (yes, we all know about the future Avengers movie. If it has almost nothing to do with the main plot, please stop advertising so brazenly here.). They say actions speak louder than words, but for Iron Man 3, here’s hoping Tony Stark can just talk all he wants.

Rating: 2 ½ stars (out of 5)

The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus (2009)

It’s difficult to discuss The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus without mentioning anything about its infamous production. Director Terry Gilliam, not known for his luck with his productions (his troubled attempt to get his Don Quixote movie off the ground is famously chronicled in the 2002 documentary Lost in La Mancha), was faced with the shocking and sad news of Heath Ledger’s death mid-production. However, despite this potential setback, Gilliam and crew managed to complete the film with a rather ingenious concept of using actors Johnny Depp, Jude Law, and Colin Farrell to fill in for Ledger’s role during certain sequences of the film. The fact that we are actually watching the film as opposed to becoming an aborted project is an accomplishment within itself, even if the film doesn’t always work despite its ambition and inventiveness.

The film tells the story of Doctor Parnassus and his ragtag crew of misfits as they travel around the streets of London, offering their services to the locals. Their carnivalesque act allows the locals to enter a world of their own imagination controlled by the doctor, where they are given a choice between blissful edification or eternal damnation. Even though the world has gotten tired of the good doctor’s show, the crew find and save a mysterious stranger named Tony from near-death. Tony then helps the doctor modernize his act for an unsuspecting audience just in time to settle a score with Mr. Nick, a devilish character who is always sneaking around in the shadows and waiting to pounce on anyone’s misfortune. Mr. Nick of course relishes the misfortune of Doctor Parnassus the most, since centuries ago the doctor made a deal for eternal life and later for the love of his life in exchange for the devil to collect his daughter upon her sixteenth birthday. As a reult of this wager, Parnassus puts all his faith in Tony, hoping that Tony will be the one able to save both his daughter and himself from the devil’s oily grasp.

If the film’s plot sounds a bit meandering, it’s because it often struggles to find the right tone between the offbeat humor and whimsy contained within the script and gravity of some of the concepts presented. The film touches on the ideas of personal fate vs. free will, good vs. evil, the nature of identity and the consequences of making deals with the devil that you’ve now come to regret. The concept of faith and religion are also obliquely touched upon (there is one particular scene where Doctor Parnassus is required to “collect” twelve disciples). It’s all very interesting stuff, but the film’s plot struggles to keep it all afloat. It’s clear that the project is very personal for the director, and Gilliam’s screenplay (co-written with Charles McKeown, who also was a co-writer on The Adventures of Baron Munchausen) at least tries hard to get all the ideas across in a cohesive way. Also, the last-minute decision to use the three actors to replace Ledger definitely works in favor of some of the film’s setpieces. Every time Ledger’s character enters the imaginarium, his character is replaced with one of the actors. This idea not only plays into the dreamlike state of the imagination world, but it also plays with the nature of identity while in the dream world and the mysterious nature of the character.

Another asset to the film is that the actors, who are often working their hardest not to get lost in the plot. Heath Ledger gives an effective performance as the stranger Tony, playing the character frantically but still with a hint of mischief. Of the three actors that replaced Ledger (Depp, Law, Farrell), Colin Farrell seems to fare the best at capturing the womanizing traits and capitalistic ambition of the character. Tom Waits also gives an always-reliable performance as the mischievous Mr. Nick. The film’s best performance, however, belongs to Christopher Plummer, who plays the aforementioned Doctor Parnassus as a man whose past decisions in life are finally catching up with him in a truly heartbreaking way. His interactions with his daughter show a hint of sadness and regret, and Plummer plays this sense of sadness beautifully. His portrayal provides both the heart and soul to a film that is often in desperate search of one.

While the film’s shifty plot and meandering nature prevent the project from working sucessfully as a whole, the film is bursting with enough imagination, ideas and ambition to make it enjoyable to watch. The film’s visual playfulness also gives the proceedings a kinetic energy that is hard to dislike. The film may not have the scope of Brazil, the cohesiveness of 12 Monkeys, or even the go-for-broke manic experience of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but it has something that the aforementioned films often lack—a heart. Gilliam, much like Parnassus, is trying against all odds to find a connection amongst the crazy fantasies and dreams we all experience, and as long as we go along for the ride, we’ll be treated to something unique and memorable. Sometimes, that’s all that’s necessary.

Rating: 3 ½ stars (out of 5)