The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus: chaos reigns

So what’s the greater point in Terry Gilliam’s The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus? There does seem to be one lurking indecipherably within the subtext. Gilliam, a member of the Monty Python alumni and director of films including The Brothers Grimm, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Twelve Monkeys, is known for his obscure imagination and complicated plot constructions. The Imaginarium delivers some poignant propositions but appears to lack a binding thread – unless one falls back on the grandiose ‘it’s an exploration of human nature’ theme, which is sufficiently vague to suit the film’s irrational tone and is yet supported by the evidence of an occasionally coherent observation or statement that manages to force its head through Gilliam’s veil of insanity.

Dr Parnassus, played expertly by Christopher Plummer, embodies the struggle between moral conscience and the temptations offered by the world, which actively complicates the existence of the average individual. Parnassus involves himself in an ongoing cycle of wagers with the devil (Mr Nick), starting with an initial bet, the winner of which is the first to seduce five souls. The Doctor is charged with the task of tempting souls to the happiness and frivolity of imaginative wonderment before Mr Nick (played by Tom Waits) can condemn five souls to the gloom and doom of boredom and conventionality – respective metaphors for heaven and hell. After winning the bet Parnassus succumbs to the age-old quest for the Holy Grail, and is granted his heart’s desire: immortality. Thereafter the Doctor assumes a demigod-like status and, being blessed with the gift of guiding the imaginations of others, uses his travelling show to cajole members of his audience into choosing between ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’. For centuries, Parnassus is engaged in a tacit battle with Mr Nick, who tries to steal away the souls that Parnassus is trying to rescue. It’s like a colossal game of chess between two egotistical titans, humans being the pawns. Gilliam’s religious interlude expresses his scepticism of the dogmatic nature of religious doctrine. This scornful tone is, however, undermined by the film’s mythology. As a mortal, Parnassus is charged with the responsibility of heading up a group of story tellers who repeat the words of a story, an act likened to the turtle that balances the world on its back – a pillar of stability that keeps the world from self destructing. The story’s continuity is disrupted by the devil and, lo and behold, the world does not disintegrate and Parnassus is thus rendered redundant. His concluding response is that the world is being upheld by other story tellers who are participating in the same exercise the world over – the director’s religious cynicism is thus permeated with hope as it becomes apparent that his grievance is with religious exclusivity rather than spirituality.

One of my most favourite characters in the film is the city of London, which exerts an authoritative presence through its apt representation of the conundrum that is human existence. There is no other city in the world in which the presence of a fully operational theatre wagon, straight out of the Middle Ages, would appear normal as it trundles around town. The fantastical surrealism of the Imaginarium, weirdly, fits right into the dark realism that penetrates every brick and stone that has constructed the history of London over the centuries. The city is vicelike in its acceptance of all moral decadence, which seems so negative in connotation but is positively liberating. The city’s diabolical nature is personified by charity co-coordinator Tony (Heath Ledger), who is the embodiment of selfish desire. He lures Valentina into lust with him and lures customers into the Imaginarium with a smooth voice and sweet words, like a true devil’s minion (although, ironically, Mr Nick is not too fond of Tony’s methods). Tony is first introduced dangling from a bridge over the Thames – a tad uncomfortable considering Heath Ledger’s current state of non-existence. Ledger’s portrayal of Gilliam’s corrupt and morally reprehensible Tony is darkly quirky … a performance infiltrated by the remnants of the actor’s dalliance with The Joker. Fillers in, Johnny Depp, Jude Law and Colin Farrel, excel as the versions of Tony that exist within the Imaginarium. In an act that poignantly captures the hollow nature of a materialistic existence, Tony (Heath Ledger) lures a host of gold-dripping women into the Imaginarium with the attraction of escaping the trappings of their lives. Innate in all the film’s characters is the desire for more, whether to escape materialism, to alleviate boredom, to be loved and to love back or to achieve recognition and wealth. Gilliam explores the nature of human desire and what measures individuals will resort to in order to oblige the demands of desire.

When Parnassus meets his one true love he falls prey to temptation and manipulates events, yet again, by making a deal with the devil – trading his immortality for temporary youth that will enable him to woo his love, on condition that when his first-born turns 16 (if he has children) he or she will become the property of Mr Nick. Parnassus thus gambles with the soul of a child yet to be conceived or even thought of, in order to appease his desire. The Doctor fathers a daughter, Valentina (played by Lily Cole), and manages to deceive her until Mr Nick arrives on her 16th birthday to collect his prize. Parnassus clearly loves Valentina and tries to tell her of her fate, which he has manipulated into being, but falters before the truth and accepts the terms of a further wager with the devil in order escape the consequences of his actions. Parnassus seems to choose the easy way out every time – an observation too close for comfort. The new deal proposed by Mr Nick constitutes another battle for souls and culminates in a bid for the soul of the Doctor’s daughter. Valentina accepts her fate by choosing ‘hell’ in a bid to attest the destructive nature of deception. She is thus rendered a martyr, sacrificing her life in order to further a greater ideological principal: that deception cannot be justified. But Valentina is not quite the martyr. There is some spite and anger involved in Valentina’s choice, and the selfless nature of her martyrdom is thus undermined by the inherent selfishness that seems to characterize all of the characters in the film to some degree or other. At the story’s end, with the disaster fresh in his mind, Parnassus is almost lured again into another deal with the devil emphasizing the fact that human beings cannot escape their lust for earthly pleasures and selfish need for self gratification. Even sweet-tempered, dreamer Anton’s (Andrew Garfield) love and desire for Valentina drives him to foolishness. Gilliam leaves his audience somewhat confused: although Valentina’s fate is, to a certain degree, controlled by external forces, she remains the author of her destiny by choosing ‘hell’ and yet a further ‘final’ deal at the end of the film results in her being thrown out of ‘hell’ by Mr Nick – not her choice. The deduction is that Valentina has no control and simultaneously some control over the outcome of her future. There is no need to prescribe one or the other.

The film touches on the elements that drive human existence and in so doing institutes extreme levels of perplexity. Gilliam implies that to achieve a level of satisfaction the selfishness of desire must impose itself on others, which is immoral. And it is this immorality that debilitates any sense of satisfaction, although the world is often able to trick its inhabitants into thinking that satisfaction is achievable. This rather bleak perspective seems incongruent with the film’s happily ever after ending that sees the union of Anton and Valentina. Should Anton feel guilty for loving Valentina and ‘treading on some toes’ on the way to realising his desire? And if not, what is the standard that makes the means to an end acceptable? And is Anton happy or not? The film presents innumerable ambiguities and raised questions with equivocal answers, resulting in ideological chaos: either as a great metaphor for the human condition, or by accident. Either way, the cinematography is beautiful, the acting is great and the film is escapism at its best.

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