There are few filmmakers working today with a vision quite as singular as Terry Gilliam, and even less possess the sheer force of will to bring it to the big screen. His battles with producers are now the stuff of legend and, as seen in the wonderful documentary Lost in La Mancha, it literally takes a force of nature to bring one his productions down. While he remains an endearing figure in cinema and will always be a director to watch, he hasn't really made a great film since Twelve Monkeys, and that was over twenty years ago. His more recent films, most notably The Brothers Grimm and Tideland, have underwhelmed and somewhat flown under the radar, and this may have also been the case for his 2009 effort The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus if it hadn't been for the tragic death of star Heath Ledger during production.
Ledger plays the mysterious Tony, a man found hanging from a bridge by a travelling theatre troupe headlined by the titular Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer). The group also consists of the Parnassus' old friend, the wise Percy (Verne Troyer), the old man's daughter Valentina (a charming Lily Cole), and former beggar Anton (Andrew Garfield), who is head over heels in love with Valentina. Tony has a mysterious and shady past, so he is happy to work for the Imaginarium in an effort to disappear from a very public life, and soon sets about transforming the show's old-timer decor and feeble efforts to attract an audience. Usually setting up the stage in dingy car parks or other undesirable locations, Parnassus' only boast is that of a magical mirror that can transport anybody who enters it into their own imagination. Anton is unhappy at the sudden appearance of this handsome stranger, who naturally attracts the attentions of Valentina, but the troupe may face a larger threat thanks to Parnassus' ancient wager with the Devil (Tom Waits).
There's a great idea in there somewhere, but the script by Gilliam and co-writer Charles McKeown (who also worked together on Brazil and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen) is so haphazard and unsure of itself that it often feels like three films crammed into one. This is no doubt down to the in-production re-writes that were necessary following Ledger's death (Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrell were brought in to play alternate versions of Tony when he ventures behind the mirror), so sections of the film feel awkwardly patched together. But there is also much to like. The design of the Imaginarium itself is wonderful in its own tatty, weather-beaten way, and Waits, complete with pencil moustache, cigarette-holder, and that signature raspy voice, is irresistible as Satan himself. The moments set within the imagination are often silly and plagued with questionable special effects, but they also occasionally sparkle with the same kind of magic of Gilliam's Monty Python animation. While it may not be the ideal film to finish his short career on, the film plays a lovely tribute to Ledger and will always be a reminder of the talent we lost far too soon. Sadly, this is likely all Imaginarium will be remembered for, but its a sporadically entertaining ride while it lasts.
It may now be 12 years old, but Ang Lee's Brokeback Mountain, based on the short story by Annie Proulx, is still more relevant than ever. At the time of its release, the debate around gay marriage was raging, and continued to do so in the subsequent years. Thankfully, same-sex marriage is now practised in many countries across the world, although it would still be deemed a crime and a sin elsewhere. But anyone who thinks that the themes explored in the film only relate to a relationship between two gay men or women have profoundly missed the point. The story applies to the love between any two people which may be considered taboo, or just plain wrong in society's eyes, whether this be for religious, political or sexual reasons, and this is something that will continue to be a talking point for many years to come.
Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) and Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) are two down-on-their-luck young cowboys in 1963 Wyoming. They arrive at Brokeback Mountain looking for work, and are hired by the bigoted Joe Aguirre (Randy Quaid) to herd sheep over the summer months. The work is hard and dangerous, and the pair spend most nights winding down passing a bottle of whiskey. After one particularly heavy night of drinking, Jack makes a move on Ennis and the two make passionate, almost violent love. Aware of society's attitudes towards gay men, the two agree that their relationship must be kept secret and their feelings locked away, and they part ways determined to forget the experience. They both marry (their wives are played by Michelle Williams and Anne Hathaway) and have children in the following years, but neither can forget the time spend together on the mountain.
Ang Lee's primary focus has always been on character. Even his worst film, the superhero misfire Hulk, spent far more (most would say too much) time concentrating on the human side of its lead instead his angry, green alter-ego. Following Ennis and Jack over the course of a couple of decades, we experience Ennis' inner turmoil and Jack's complete frustration, with the latter's anger stemming from both society's refusal to let them be who they want to be, and Ennis' dismissing of Jack's idea to buy a ranch with him so they can live out their days together. Jack is more accepting of his own sexuality, occasionally attempting pick-ups in bars and often forced to pay prostitutes in dingy alleys. Haunted by an experience with his father as a child, Ennis is in a constant battle with himself. Angry at the discrimination he would face were he display his true emotions in public, and possibly disgusted at himself for possessing such feelings, he stoically drinks and smokes his nights away after his marriage falls apart.
The script, by Larry McMurty and Diana Ossana, refuses to over-simplify the characters and force labels on them. It isn't entirely clearly whether the two men are homosexual, bisexual or even heterosexual, as their relationship is built on something far more transcendent. It's one of the many reasons why the film shouldn't be remembered as that 'gay cowboy movie'. Ledger and Gyllenhaal are both terrific, and received Academy Award nominations for their efforts. Ledger is undoubtedly the standout as the buttoned-up, tight-lipped tough guy repressing a range of emotions he doesn't full understand behind his incredibly sad eyes. Tragically, he wouldn't completely shake off his pretty boy image until three years later - the year of his death - after The Dark Knight. It is a film that will no doubt resonate with most people whose feelings fall outside of what society considers the 'norm', and will continue to do so for many years to come. On top of that, Brokeback Mountain is simply a beautiful piece of cinema, with one of the most heart-breaking final scenes ever filmed.
After the little teaser at the end of Batman Begins (2005) which saw Lt. Gordon (Gary Oldman) show Batman (Christian Bale) a Joker card, signalling a new criminal in town, Christopher Nolan faced the task of bringing one of the most colourful and charismatic, and downright evil and psychopathic, villains in comic-book history to the screen. The role would always be Jack Nicholson's, who brought an eccentric performance in Tim Burton's original Batman (1989), but Nolan had a different take in mind. He was to go back to the roots of the Joker to find what really made him tick. Then he cast Heath Ledger, and the rest was history.
After Batman set out to inspire others to rise up against crime in the first film, Gotham City has a new 'white knight' in the shape of new District Attorney Harvey Dent (Aaron Eckhart) who faces the challenge of taking down mob kingpin Maroni (Eric Roberts). Chinese accountant Lau (Chin Han) informs Maroni and his crew he has hidden the money they have been laundering through his banks as Dent and Lt. Gordon come down on them. Fleeing to China, Batman uses unorthodox means to bring him to back for questioning. Meanwhile, the psychotic Joker (Ledger), who has been stealing the mobs money, convinces them to employ him to kill Batman, and sets about causing anarchy across the city, promising to kill someone every day until Batman reveals his true identity.
Summing up the film's plot in a few sentences does not do The Dark Knight justice. Nolan has not made a superhero film here, instead he has created a colossal crime story that has more in common with Michael Mann's Heat (1995) than anything produced by Marvel in recent years. It's quite astonishing how he has managed to pack so much plot and incident into its 140 minute running time without ever losing focus, and keeping the film packed with exceptional set-pieces. If Begins felt slightly amateurish at times in terms of action cinema, Nolan has strutted into this film and given us clear and crisp scenes of bone-crunching fighting, as Batman carves his way through henchmen.
Yet the film will always be remembered for one thing, and that is Heath Ledger's Joker. His casting raised eyebrows at the time, wondering if the fuzzy-haired pretty boy from teen comedy 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) could take the mantle from Jack Nicholson and bring such a wild character into Nolan's grounded Batman universe. He answered his critics with aplomb, creating a now iconic character that will remain possibly the greatest villain ever created in cinema. His red smile has been replaced by large swollen scars, his green hair is greasy and badly maintained, his make-up patched with sweat, and his clothes tatty. "Gotham City deserves a better class of criminal, and I'm gonna give it to them," he says as he sets alight a stack of cash almost double his height. This is a Joker that cares about nothing but anarchy, having no ultimate purpose or goal.
Although the Joker steals the show, this is still Batman's film, with Nolan this time drawing on the similarities between the two characters. They are both freaks and outcasts, as the Joker points out, yet where Batman is fighting a seemingly ill-fated battle against a Gotham that has descended into chaos, the Joker embraces his place in the world as an outsider. In one exceptional scene, Batman interrogates him in a police cell, losing his code and battering the truth out of the Joker. Although Bale's ridiculous gravel-voiced Dark Knight will be parodied, Bale is again outstanding, switching between Patrick Bateman-esque arrogance as he puts on his playboy mask, and the tortured soul, watching his love Rachel Dawes (Maggie Gyllenhaal, replacing Katie Holmes) fall in love with Harvey Dent as he sacrifices himself for the sake of the city.
The supporting cast are solid and reliable as ever, with Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman and Gary Oldman bringing some real weight to the film. Aaron Eckhart, an actor I've felt has gone unappreciated for years after seeing him in the excellent In The Company of Men (1997), is a revelation as Dent. He is a man the city put their hopes into and is determined to make a difference, but the Joker's mayhem tests his sanity and his sense of justice, turning him into the twisted Two-Face (a role made ridiculous by Tommy Lee Jones in Batman Forever (1995)).
I watched this again for what must be the sixth time, and the first time I've seen it for some time, and was possibly blown away even more than any other viewing. Perhaps this time I was able to grasp the sheer scope and vision of Nolan's world, with he and his brother's screenplay being just as sharp as anything else that year, and the action scenes (which employ minimal CGI) simply explosive. But it is Ledger, ultimately, that will linger in the mind long after the credits roll, from his disappearing pencil magic trick, to his final monologue, his performance is beyond words, and wholly deserved his posthumous Academy Award. I highly doubt The Dark Knight Rises (2012) will surpass this film, but how could it? This is, after all, the greatest superhero film ever made, and I would assume will ever be.
Ledger plays the mysterious Tony, a man found hanging from a bridge by a travelling theatre troupe headlined by the titular Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer). The group also consists of the Parnassus' old friend, the wise Percy (Verne Troyer), the old man's daughter Valentina (a charming Lily Cole), and former beggar Anton (Andrew Garfield), who is head over heels in love with Valentina. Tony has a mysterious and shady past, so he is happy to work for the Imaginarium in an effort to disappear from a very public life, and soon sets about transforming the show's old-timer decor and feeble efforts to attract an audience. Usually setting up the stage in dingy car parks or other undesirable locations, Parnassus' only boast is that of a magical mirror that can transport anybody who enters it into their own imagination. Anton is unhappy at the sudden appearance of this handsome stranger, who naturally attracts the attentions of Valentina, but the troupe may face a larger threat thanks to Parnassus' ancient wager with the Devil (Tom Waits).
