By Taylor Adams
Hanged by the neck.
This is how the late Heath Ledger begins his performance in ‘The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus.’ It’s an ironic vision, tragic even. In a certain morbid way, it makes sense. Nevertheless, it’s shocking.
It’s Ledger’s last film and ex-Monty Pythonite director Terry Gilliam’s latest. At its best, it’s a self-conscious and highly imaginative tale of morality and the power of storytelling. When it’s not quite at its best, it borders on incomprehensible as the director’s characteristically wild visions run rampant amid the inevitable chaos of losing a lead actor while shooting.
Oh, Heath. As can be expected from the aforementioned entrance of his character, an amnesiac named Tony who is, ironically, highly adept at cheating death, the film is highly conscious of the actor’s demise. So is the trio of actors who stepped in to barely logically fill in the gaps left by his departure:’ Johnny Depp (works well), Jude Law (strange), and, uh, Colin Farrell (weird, but works). These three play the various faces of Tony within the ‘Imaginarium’ of the film’s title. What exactly is an imaginarium? Good question.
It’s important to realize that, far from simply serving as the cinematic tomb of a good actor who was deprived of a full career (and life, for that matter), this film is also the first big-budget opus in quite a while by the man who conceived of such strange dystopic visions as ’12 Monkeys’ and the disturbingly light-hearted Orwellian romp ‘Brazil.’
Now Terry Gilliam has his ‘Imaginarium’ to play with, and play he does. It’s wonderful to see such a consumately imaginative director create such a strange, colorful and eclectic world. That world is the mind of one Doctor Parnassus, played by Christopher Plummer, who thus continues to solidify his monopoly on the wisened-old-man-with-impressive-facial-hair role that he has had a firm grip on since portraying Gandalf in the ‘Lord of the Rings’ trilogy.
Parnassus is an old, usually drunk, but clearly well-meaning, immortal-type figure who serves on the figurative ‘good’ shoulder of this film’s moral quandaries. Opposite him is, well, the devil of course ‘- one ‘Mr. Nick.’
The devil is played by musician Tom Waits (this should make a lot of sense to anyone who has heard Tom Waits). He brings a somewhat paradoxically impish gravitas to the role that makes for a performance that is quite pure – if that’s the right word. No fiery outbursts needed, the devil in Parnassus is all style:’ suave, decadent and constantly hinting at a greater depravity.
The two war over souls:’ hapless shoppers, rowdy carousers and whomever else can be conned into stumbling through the mirror that is the entrance to Parnassus’ mind, his imagination and ‘Imaginarium.’ Once there, they make a choice between the high road and some dingy bar or motel Mr. Nick has mocked up. Parnassus believes in the renewing power of the imagination and seems to be a stand-in for Gilliam himself. He usually loses, and if he loses his next bet with the devil, he’ll also lose his adolescent daughter Valentina (Lily Cole) to Satan. Valentina, who helps out around the traveling sideshow that serves as a cover for all of this, is starting to resent the life that being the daughter of a strange thousand-year-old man addicted to gambling with the devil entails.
Into this mix comes Ledger’s Tony. His gifts of persuasion and charm rival those of Mr. Nick, much to the devil’s chagrin. With his help, things improve for Parnassus and co., but it also becomes increasingly unclear whose side Tony is on, other than his own.
Ledger, though dead, breathes a lot of life into this character. He gets close to letting loose as he did in ‘The Dark Knight’ as the joker. Yet, he never brings his energy to that level, even when it might be appropriate. This role won’t eclipse his Oscar-winning performance last year, but it serves as a poignant reminder that Ledger was a good actor who could thrive across multiple styles.
But, of course, Ledger didn’t finish this performance, and after being saved by a rewritten script making use of the numerous scenes he had already shot, the story still leaves one with the feeling that its seams are visible. Things get confusing at times, but overall the resulting film has an organic feel that is rather refreshing.
It doesn’t feel unfinished, partly because it is at times very self-conscious about the absurdity of it all. Depp, Law and Farrell all at one point or another see their reflection and share an almost humorous moment of realization with the audience that transcends character. They’ve woken up in Ledger’s world, inside Gilliam’s strange dream. Everyone else is along for the ride.
What’s amazing about ‘Imaginarium’ is that it didn’t die with Ledger, though it is inexorably linked to his death. Gilliam, who has so painfully known failure in the past (the documentary ‘Lost in la Mancha’ is a depressing account of his life-long and yet-unfulfilled desire to adapt ‘Don Quixote’), has out of tragedy made something strange, whimsical, and thoroughly ‘- yet understandably ‘- imperfect. It plays a bit like a tribute, and it is. A fitting one? Quite.
