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WAVERLY MIDNIGHTS — TERRY GILLIAM: THE IMAGINARIUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS

THE IMAGINARIUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS

People get to make a deal with the devil in Terry Gilliam’s THE IMAGINARIUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS

THE IMAGINARIUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS (Terry Gilliam, 2009)
IFC Center
323 Sixth Ave. at West Third St.
Friday, May 17, and Saturday, May 18, 12:00 midnight
212-924-7771
www.ifccenter.com
www.sonyclassics.com

Longtime Monty Python animator Terry Gilliam is perhaps the most frustrating filmmaker of the last thirty years. A remarkable talent whose works are often mired in controversy, from going way overbudget to having to deal with severe illness and even death on his sets, Gilliam has made such pure gems as Time Bandits (1981), Brazil (1985), and The Fisher King (1991) as well as such disasters as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998), The Brothers Grimm (2005), and Tideland (2005). His last real success was Twelve Monkeys (1995), making it nearly fifteen years since he’s made a worthwhile movie. His 2009 adult fairy tale, The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus, is reminiscent of his 1988 film, The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, a somewhat underrated though hit-or-miss effort that reached lofty heights while flirting with utter ridiculousness. Cowritten by Gilliam and Charles McKeown (who also collaborated on Brazil and Munchausen), Parnassus is built around a Faustian plot in which a monk, Dr. Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), who thinks his sect controls the story of the world, makes a deal with Mr. Nick, the devil (Tom Waits), involving Parnassus’s daughter, Valentina (Lily Cole). Valentina is part of the doctor’s traveling sideshow, along with the trusted, all-knowing Percy (Verne Troyer) and assistant Anton (Andrew Garfield), who is in love with Valentina but is unable to express his desire. The ramshackle show offers people the chance to walk through a mirror into their own private fantasy — during which they will eventually face a decision regarding their own potential deal with the devil. When the oddball troupe discovers a man hanging by his neck under a bridge, they welcome the charming, handsome, deeply mysterious stranger (Heath Ledger) into their outfit, but he is hiding a secret that could tear everything apart. Parnassus is an up-and-down affair in which a captivating, beautiful scene will be followed by a baffling segment that borders on the incompetent, as if the filmmakers forgot to edit it properly or couldn’t afford more takes to improve it. Fortunately, the last half hour is thrilling, especially how Gilliam and McKeown rework the script to deal with Ledger’s death when several key scenes still needed to be shot. The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus is screening in a DCP projection at midnight on May 17 & 18 as part of the IFC Center Waverly Midnights series “Terry Gilliam,” which continues through July 20 with such other fine Gilliam fare as Time Bandits, Jabberwocky, and Brazil.

TWI-NY TALK: JOHN BALDESSARI

John Baldessari is once again screwing with people’s minds in latest solo show at Marian Goodman (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

JOHN BALDESSARI: DOUBLE PLAY
Marian Goodman Gallery
24 West 57th St. between Fifth & Sixth Aves.
Tuesday – Saturday through November 21, free, 10:00 am – 6:00 pm
212-977-7160
www.mariangoodman.com

As John Baldessari and I sat down in the conference room at Marian Goodman Gallery to discuss his latest solo show there, “Double Play,” I realized that the cord on my old-fashioned tape recorder couldn’t reach the nearest outlet. Sensing the dilemma, the six-foot-seven, eighty-one-year-old artistic genius said, “Too bad you can’t use that,” and pointed behind me. When I turned around, I saw his 1997 Goya Series canvas “It Serves You Right,” a black-and-white image of a plug beneath an empty four-pronged outlet. Fortunately, the good people at the gallery were kind enough to find a long, orange extension cord so we could get down to business.

“I’ve got to say, I don’t like being labeled a California artist, or a Los Angeles artist, or a Conceptual artist,” Baldessari later pointed out. “I just like it to be artist.” For more than fifty years, Baldessari has been creating provocative paintings, video, and sculpture that combine text and language with art-historical and pop-culture imagery. He’s placed colorful circles over subjects’ faces and filmed himself posing in front of a camera and declaring over and over again, “I am making art.” He’s experienced a kind of renaissance lately, with a well-received traveling retrospective, “Pure Beauty,” that came to the Met in the fall of 2010, and two recent promotional videos that have gone viral, “A Brief History of John Baldessari,” a wildly funny biography narrated by musician Tom Waits, and a Pacific Standard Time short in which Baldessari’s giant head chases actor Jason Schwartzman through the streets of L.A.

For “Double Play,” Baldessari made inkjet prints of enlarged sections of works by such artists as Paul Gauguin, Honoré Daumier, Otto Dix, and Édouard Manet, painted over them, then named them after song titles by Waits, Kander and Ebb, Portastic, Johnny Mercer, and others. “Eggs and Sausage” reimagines Gustave Courbet’s “Portrait of Paul Ansout,” combining it with block type of the title of a 1975 song by Waits. For “Animal Crackers in My Soup,” Baldessari focuses on two of the women in Félix Valloton’s “Three Women and a Young Girl Frolicking in the Water,” making it look like they’re kissing, and adding the title of the song made famous by Shirley Temple.

A careful thinker who punctuates many of his statements with an infectious laugh, Baldessari is a gentle, unassuming man whose striking white hair and beard and mustache stand out in stark contrast to his black clothing. He spoke honestly and openly about art and life, encouraging more questions even as our time together was coming to a close.

twi-ny: You’ve spent part of the last few years looking back at your long career, with the “Pure Beauty” retrospective and a continuing series of Catalogue Raisonné volumes. Do you think that has directly influenced your current work?

John Baldessari: Well, I think it’s always valuable to look at the arc of your career, of what you’ve done and what you might do, and retrospectives can provide that. So do Catalogue Raisonnés. It all helps, to see where you’ve been and where you might go.

John Baldessari, “Double Play: Moon River,” varnished inkjet print on canvas with acrylic and oil paint, 2012 (photo courtesy Marian Goodman Gallery)

twi-ny: In putting together the two new series, you compare yourself to Dr. Frankenstein. How do you go about choosing the different elements?

John Baldessari: The underlying idea is that I always think of language and imagery as of equal value. So very often in my work I have both — sometimes not, but right now I do — but I consider the song title as valuable as the image. What I’m trying to do is not make it easy for people to make the connection between the image and the language, make it a little difficult. Which is impossible, because people want to do that, they want to hook up things together. A few of them, I just look the other direction, like the dog and “Feelings” — that’s like a Hallmark card. But on the other ones, I think, “Moon River,” I mean, come on. But a lot of them, I found out, I went through the list of song titles trying to hit ones that wouldn’t provide a ready connection. And as a result, I have five or more that are Tom Waits; he’s really good at that.

twi-ny: In “Feelings,” for example, you have a dog, but “Walking the Dog” isn’t with the picture of a dog, which confuses people.

John Baldessari: Exactly.

twi-ny: Are the selections random?

John Baldessari: They’re not random at all. They’re very well thought out. I mean, they’re very well thought out in trying to avoid a connection.

twi-ny: And people can make their own connections.

John Baldessari: Of course they will. But then it’s going to be a weird connection.

twi-ny: When I looked at “Animal Crackers in My Soup,” I’m thinking Shirley Temple, and you’ve got the image of two women kissing.

John Baldessari: And you’re gonna start thinking. I kind of played this “fucking with your mind” game.

twi-ny: In regards to Tom Waits, another National City guy, did you know him or his music before the LACMA video or “Double Play”?

John Baldessari: I’ll tell you how the connection happened. I was teaching in a community college, and I had heard that he had attended that after I had left. And then I mentioned it to my sister, and she said, “Oh yeah, he was a gardener for one of my girlfriends,” and I thought, Wow, that’s amazing. And then I was checking around some more, and it turned out he worked in a pizza restaurant that was located in a building that was owned by my father in National City before he began to get really well known.

Somehow I got his phone number — he was living in L.A. at the time — and I called him. I said, “Is this true?” and he started laughing and said, “Yeah, it’s all true.” You know, I’ve yet to meet him. But then, two years back, in Vanity Fair they had that thing in the back they called the Proust Questionnaire, and they had him, and one of the questions was “What was one of the most enjoyable times in your life?” and he said working in the pizza restaurant in National City, California. Isn’t that amazing?

We talk on the phone. He did send me a note, did a drawing about that movie, and he said, “These guys are making us famous.” And I said, “Tom, you’re already famous.”

twi-ny: You famously proclaimed that you “will not make any more boring art.” Recently you stalked Jason Schwartzman in a Pacific Standard Time video and you told him, “Art should be fun.” You seem to be having a lot of fun.

John Baldessari: Yes, I think that’s high on my list. You know, you should enjoy what you’re doing. Well, anyone should enjoy what they’re doing. Not everybody’s that lucky. They get trapped having to make a living; it’s not what they enjoy. I feel very fortunate I can do what I like doing.

twi-ny: Whose idea was it to put your face on the buildings?

John Baldessari: That was kind of a set-up, which I didn’t mind. They wanted to do two videos, one of me, and one of Ed Ruscha — I guess, the two senior artists in L.A., whatever — and I said, sure, what the hell. They went through various names and they said, “How about Jason Schwartzman?” I’m so out of the loop, but all of my staff, young artists, they went gaga. “Jason Schwartzman? How cool is that?” And I said okay. Jason Schwartzman it is. Then the filmmaker came to talk to me, and it was the son of Bob Dylan, Jesse. Then, the way he described it, with this face-to-face, Jason and I, in conversation, I said, piece of cake, I’ve done that. But the structure was all him. It’s brilliant.

twi-ny: In the digital age, it seems that everyone now can be an artist, a photographer, a journalist, a writer, a filmmaker, whatever they want. Is there a lot more boring art now?

John Baldessari: I think one thing, everybody carries a camera with them, in terms of their smart phone, and we never see any physical prints. There are no more photo albums. As a result of that, I’m not interested in taking photographs. I mean, only if I need to. I used to carry a camera around with me. But now I think, why? I have no need to because somebody is going to have an image of this. I don’t have to do anything.

twi-ny: It’s taken away the process of acquiring source material.

John Baldessari: The pleasure. I remember in 1970 I gave my Nikon to my wife and said, “Listen, I have an assignment for you. Go out and photograph — the whole thirty-six-exposure roll — the most boring things you can find. Now it’s not so easy. It’s interesting too, your question. When I was teaching, one of my colleagues was Allan Kaprow at CalArts, and he was very prescient. He said the artist of the future will be an art director. You don’t have to do anything, like Jeff Koons, Damien Hirst, me — you just have the idea. It’s really conceptual art with a vengeance. With conceptual art, you never presuppose that there would be much physicality to it, but my god, it’s physicality overkill.

John Baldessari combines art-historical imagery with song titles in latest exhibition (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

twi-ny: Getting back to “Double Play,” the range of works include Gauguin, Bacon, Dix, and primarily Courbet and Eilshemius. Were you looking specifically for images, or were there particular artists you had in mind?

John Baldessari: About two years ago, I decided I was going to start mining imagery from the history of art rather than from newspapers and magazines and TV, whatever, but going about it the same way. I wouldn’t try to get a good image of the work. I wanted it from the media. And then I’d have a huge library, and so I just started plowing through books, collections, individual artists, on and on and on. What I would be looking for would be something in an artist’s work that would be, in a way, inconsequential. There’s always a hierarchy of things in an artist’s work. If it’s a person, obviously you’re going to look at the person’s face, then you might look at what he has on or how he or she is standing. So I looked for something that seems to be the least interesting — oh, like this; that’s not very interesting, you know, that kind of thing — and then I would map out and isolate part of the image and say to an assistant, “Print all these out” so I could look at them and I would sort through those. I guess what I’d be looking for were things that would be visually interesting — to me, anyway, in a formalistic sense, not just in terms of subject matter — and then hopefully it will be interesting to somebody else, who knows. And then I start going through lists and lists of song titles, and then I play marriage broker in trying to get the two of them together somehow and in some way that provided some tension. You know, not an easy association, as I said, but something that was a little bit more difficult because I think one of the things I like to do is make things difficult for people, not in a burdensome way, but I think I got that idea once from reading Kierkegaard and he said, “My job in life is to make life difficult for people.”

twi-ny: To further the challenge, you don’t always take the most obvious part of the image.

John Baldessari: It’s a bit of an art history test. Yeah, some things are pretty obscure, so I made it difficult in that sense. But I think I’ve got a pretty good sense of the viewer, or the spectator, in having taught so long to support myself. So I couldn’t be so obtuse that I would lose people, you know, the students, or be so simplistic that I would lose the smart people. So I think I know how to be a little seductive but have enough there for the most intelligent person but not lose the average person. And of course, for me a model would be, like, Giotto or Matisse, where it looks deceptively simple but it’s not at all.

twi-ny: You mentioned your teaching. Some of your students have gone on to become famous artists themselves, people like Tony Oursler, who also has such an element of fun in his work.

John Baldessari: Absolutely. David Salle, another one, Matt Mullican, and on and on and on. Mike Kelley.

twi-ny: When you had them as students, could you tell which ones would potentially be successful, not necessarily financially but at least creatively?

John Baldessari: I had one sort of idea and I don’t even know if it’s true but I’ll share it with you. There’s always a kid in school that’s really smart, but I think because of that they’ve worked less hard, and the ones that are sort of a little bit way down, they work harder. Those are the students that seem to become successful.

twi-ny: One of the pieces you mentioned before, “Feelings,” is part of the Artists for Obama Portfolio, which also includes works by Frank Gehry, David Hammons, Jasper Johns, and many more. Why did you choose that piece for the project?

John Baldessari: I didn’t do it in any political way. I just thought, who doesn’t love dogs?

twi-ny: Finally, over the last several years, and in the video with Jason Schwartzman, you use cheese as a metaphor for appreciating art. What is your ideal cheese?

John Baldessari: You know, I think I said gorgonzola cheese because my father was Italian and that was the only cheese he would eat. And then I remember some perceptual psychologist writing about art and talking about tastes in art changing. I wish I had said it but I think it’s very apt. He said, when you start out, if you eat cheese at all, it might be Kraft cheese or whatever, and then you get tired of that and you sort of escalate and then you get to the point where smelly cheeses are all you can tolerate. And I thought that was a pretty good description of how taste changes.

TWI-NY TALK: RAQUEL CION

The Lounge at Dixon Place
161A Chrystie St. between Rivington & Delancey Sts.
Friday, June 8, free, 9:30
212-219-0736
www.dixonplace.org

Last Friday night, Raquel Cion packed the Lounge at Dixon Place for her latest show, Gilding the Lonely, billed as “An Evening of Cabaret” that explores being single in the big city. Accompanied by 3 Teens Kill 4 drummer Bill Gerstel and downtown pianist Lance Cruce, Cion, wearing a dazzling, form-fitting gown designed by David Quinn, goes through a repertoire of carefully chosen, mostly deep-cut ballads by David Bowie, Prince, the Rolling Stones, and Dwight Yoakam (!) while sharing personal stories about dating actors, being scarred for life by The Giving Tree, and needing to replace a lightbulb. Cion will be back at Dixon Place on June 8 at 9:30 for an encore presentation of Gilding the Lonely; get there early if you want to grab a seat.

twi-ny: You played to a packed house last Friday. Are you happy with how things went?

Raquel Cion: Very much so! It was a blast. The audience was so present. The Lounge at Dixon Place is such a great place to hone a show. Ellie Covan and her staff are very supportive of new work while giving artists such freedom. You work it out and just show up and do it. There’s a wonderful sense of trust in that. In 2010, I work-shopped another cabaret-esque show, Cou-Cou Bijoux: Pour Vous, in the Lounge. This past fall I ran into Ellie and she asked if I wanted to bring anything to the Lounge. I told her I had been throwing around some ideas for another cabaret and within a week we had booked the space even before anything on the creative side was created. Nothing like a deadline!

So, yeah, it was a blast. Working with Lance, Bill, and our amazing director, Hillary Spector, has been really great and, well, challenging. It’s NYC and we all have such packed schedules, so rehearsals were very limited. Bill did the first incarnation of the show this past December, so we had a context for the material. All of us come from such different backgrounds, stylistically and aesthetically. Bill’s a full-on kick-ass rock ‘n’ roll drummer but is incredibly sensitive to the emotional arc of the whole show and really provides a backbone to it. Lance comes from a more traditional cabaret background and has been valiant in dealing with much of the song selection, which required him to play by ear and make huge jumps between different styles of music and get them to flow together. Hillary and I come from the theater world. It’s quite the mix. So we had to find, and quickly, where those worlds intersected. I think those differing perspectives serve the show really well. Like with any show, you create your own language. Thankfully, the audience really could understand and connect deeply with our vernacular.

twi-ny: Your show deals with various aspects of loneliness. How do you think being lonely in New York City compares to loneliness in other places?

Raquel Cion explores loneliness in nontraditional cabaret show at Dixon Place (photo by twi-ny/mdr)

Raquel Cion: Hmmm . . . I’ve lived some other places and uh, yeah, I think being lonely in NYC is different. Though loneliness is universal, no one is immune. But there is something about feeling lonely in New York that has its own particular flavor. Sometimes it feels like an everlasting gobstopper in how it can change flavor and how you gotta just suck it (up). We’re constantly in relationship with others, be they familiar or not. We’re so thrown together, and each one of us has such drive, be it personal, professional, or, hell, just getting on the train. The constant information of “others” for me can increase that feeling of loneliness. It’s perhaps that compare/despair thing that the twelve steppers speak of, that wanting that our wonderful but sometimes overwhelming city can set up for us or bring out in us. And it’s particular, what we want. Strangely enough, even though I have been wrestling big-time with these feelings of loneliness, I am fierce about getting time to be alone. I think that’s a New York thing, too. Carving out our particular world within the worlds of this city and, well, finding who can inhabit that world intimately with us isn’t the easiest thing to do, especially as one gets older. I don’t mean to sound trite, but I don’t think I’m alone in this.

twi-ny: You sometimes perform under your real name, Raquel Cion, and other times as your alter ego, Cou-Cou Bijoux. What are the differences between the two?

Raquel Cion: When I speak of Cou-Cou Bijoux it’s like she is her own person. She feels that way. To backtrack a bit, I’ve always loved to sing but was mostly an apartment singer. Yeah, it encompassed much more than the shower. Cou-Cou Bijoux was created with Katherine Valentine for her show The Va Va Voom Room. Coming as I said before from a theatrical background, singing from a character was much easier and got me singing in front of people. Which due to some horrible posttraumatic-college-voice-class-syndrome hadn’t happened in a long while. Cou-Cou was that character that let me be a singer because she is a singer and, well, she’s also a hot mess, so as she would say in her French accent, “everything is possible.”

So singing as myself has been a process, one that is still revealing itself to me in beautiful and unexpected ways. I still approach song from an acting perspective; that’s where it translates to me. Telling the story. Connecting emotionally. Singing as me is still a bit terrifying but incredibly satisfying. When I was in the process of creating this show and was flipping out about its structure, etc., a friend of mine said, “Why don’t you ask Cou-Cou about it? She knows how to put a show together.” Okay, now I just sound schizophrenic.

twi-ny: Although you refer to the show as “An Evening of Cabaret,” it has a decidedly rock-and-roll aesthetic, with cover versions of songs by David Bowie, the Rolling Stones, Tom Waits, and Prince, among others. What do those artists bring to the loneliness table?

Raquel Cion: Damn, you found me out! Yeah, it’s not a traditional cabaret. I don’t know if I’d know how to do that, actually. I’m a ridiculously huge Bowie fan. His voice, his music, his presence in the world — see, told you — just immediately comfort me on such a deep level. So, when I’m feeling lonely or pretty much any feeling, Bowie both sends me and grounds me. In terms of that “no one is immune from loneliness” thing that I mentioned, all these great songwriters are able to sink down into those feelings and we go with them. When choosing songs for the show, they broke down into a few categories for me: those songs that present a vision of happily ever after, those songs that drive you deeper into loneliness, and the songs where there’s an equanimity in regard to the very human experience of loneliness. The songs actually encompass a few styles; there’s pop, rock, R&B, punk/wave, country, and a show tune, to name a few. They’re some of the songs I love and turn to when I’m feeling lonely. I’m very moved by the quality of singers’ voices. I’m also a sucker for melody and a good modulation. If I connect to the sound of someone’s voice, that’s pretty much it for me; I’m in and in for life.

twi-ny: Who are some of the other artists that have influenced you?

Raquel Cion: Wow, there are so many influences. Did I mention Bowie? (Tee hee.) Seriously, the list is endless and can go from things like Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam to Vladimir Nabokov. I’m a bit of a magpie.

twi-ny: Is it possible to be covered in more glitter than you were last Friday night?

Raquel Cion: As I said, I’m a bit of a magpie. I love sparkly things! But to answer your question, yes, yes, yes! There can always be more glitter. Just ask a Dazzle Dancer.

IMAGES FROM THE EDGE: WHITE WHALES

Friðrik Thór Friðriksson’s THE CIRCLE will screen continuously for free at Lincoln Center’s “Images from the Edge” Icelandic series

CLASSIC & CONTEMPORARY ICELANDIC CINEMA: WHITE WHALES (SKYTTURNAR) (Friðrik Thór Friðriksson, 1987)
Film Society of Lincoln Center, Walter Reade Theater
165 West 65th St. at Amsterdam Ave.
Thursday April 19, 8:45; Tuesday, April 24, 4:00
Series runs April 18-26
212-875-5601
www.filmlinc.com

For thirty years, Friðrik Thór Friðriksson has been one of Iceland’s most prominent and important directors, making both documentaries and narrative features that delve into the unique personality of the Scandinavian nation. Founder of the Icelandic Film Corporation, Friðriksson will be represented by four works at the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s “Images from the Edge: Classic & Contemporary Icelandic Cinema” series, which runs April 18-26. Throughout the festival, his highly experimental 1985 road-trip documentary, The Circle (Hringurinn), in which he strapped a camera to a car dashboard and made his way down Highway No. 1, will play continuously for free in the Frieda & Roy Furman Gallery at the Walter Reade Theater. His 1982 documentary Rock in Reykjavik, about nineteen Icelandic bands (including Tappi Tíkarrass, with a teenage singer named Björk), will be shown April 21, while his 2000 portrait of mental illness, Angels of the Universe (Englar Alheimsins), will screen April 22 and 25, with Friðriksson present for all events.

WHITE WHALES follows the travails of a pair of down-on-their-luck losers wandering through Reykjavik

The series also features Friðriksson’s first fiction film, the dazzling black comedy 1987 White Whales (Skytturnar). Reminiscent of the work of Finnish auteur Aki Kaurismäki (The Match Factory Girl, Le Havre) and Jim Jarmusch (Stranger than Paradise, Down by Law), White Whales follows the travails of a pair of pathetic if lovable losers, Grímur (Þórarinn Óskar Þórarinsson) and Bubbi (Eggert Gudmundsson). The film begins like a nature documentary, with gorgeous shots of breeching whales — suddenly interrupted by whalers who harpoon one of the beautiful mammals and bring it in to shore. On board the ship, Grímur considers their bleak future as Bubbi spends his time looking at porn. “Well, if we’re lucky, we might get a job shoveling shit,” Grímur says. “And if that doesn’t work out, we’ll have to eat shit.” Nothing seems to faze either man as they head out on an offbeat adventure that takes them hitchhiking, coming upon an injured horse, wandering around Reykjavik, stopping in at bars, visiting Grímur’s beloved grandmother, and then, ultimately, crossing over a line and ending up in some very deep trouble. Combining Icelandic music with such English-language songs as Nick Cave’s cover of Jimmy Webb’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” Merle Haggard’s “The Fugitive,” and Tom Waits’s “Tom Traubert’s Blues,” Friðriksson, who will attend both the April 19 and 24 screenings of White Whales, creates a hysterically funny existential atmosphere that erupts in surprising violence. Try not to let the poor subtitling get in the way of your enjoyment of this Icelandic gem.

THE IMAGINARIUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS

Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer) makes a devilish deal with Mr. Nick (Tom Waits) in new Terry Gilliam flick

Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer) makes a devilish deal with Mr. Nick (Tom Waits) in new Terry Gilliam flick


THE IMAGINARIUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS (Terry Gilliam, 2009)

www.doctorparnassus.co.uk

Longtime Monty Python animator Terry Gilliam is perhaps the most frustrating filmmaker of the last thirty years. A remarkable talent whose works are often mired in controversy, from going way overbudget to having to deal with severe illness and even death on his sets, Gilliam has made such pure gems as TIME BANDITS (1981), BRAZIL (1985), and THE FISHER KING (1991) as well as such disasters as FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS (1998), THE BROTHERS GRIMM (2005), and TIDELAND (2005). His last real success was TWELVE MONKEYS (1995), making it nearly fifteen years since he has made a worthwhile movie. His latest adult fairy tale, THE IMAGINARIUM OF DOCTOR PARNASSUS, is reminiscent of his 1988 film, THE ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN, a somewhat underrated though hit-or-miss effort that reached lofty heights while flirting with utter ridiculousness. Cowritten by Gilliam and Charles McKeown (who also collaborated on BRAZIL and MUNCHAUSEN), DOCTOR PARNASSUS is built around a Faustian plot in which a monk, Doctor Parnassus (Christopher Plummer), who thinks his sect controls the story of the world, makes a deal with Mr. Nick, the devil (Tom Waits), involving Parnassus’s daughter, Valentina (Lily Cole). Valentina is part of the doctor’s traveling sideshow, along with the trusted, all-knowing Percy (Verne Troyer) and assistant Anton (Andrew Garfield), who is in love with Valentina but is unable to express his desire. The ramshackle show offers people the chance to walk through a mirror into their own private fantasy — during which they will eventually face a decision regarding their own potential deal with the devil. When the oddball troupe discovers a man hanging by his neck under a bridge, they welcome the charming, handsome, deeply mysterious stranger (Heath Ledger) into their outfit, but he is hiding a secret that could tear everything apart. PARNASSUS is an up-and-down affair in which a captivating, beautiful scene will be followed by a baffling segment that borders on the incompetent, as if the filmmakers forgot to edit it properly or couldn’t afford more takes to improve it. Fortunately, the last half hour is thrilling, especially how Gilliam and McKeown rework the script to deal with Ledger’s death when several key scenes still needed to be shot.