Been a long time since I saw a movie I enjoyed that much. A wonderful, whimsical, weird exploration of the conflict between the Old Night (with both its bloodiness and its potential for grace) and The Enlightenment (with both its bloodiness and its potential for liberation). With an affectionate nod towards the Catholic Church and its syncretic traditions.
I really loved what Gillian did with the historical characters, the Brothers Grimm. They were linguists who were part of the creation of the modern Germany. They were both forward looking and deeply backwards looking. Utterly modern, utterly not. Here we have two brothers who pierced the veil; saw through the myth and manipulated it for their own purposes, until the myth stepped up and snatched them back into the dark forest, and not even the flames of the Enlightenment could liberate them. Only thinking through the stories.
There were literal flames licking those forests. Napoleon's General (John Pryce; wonderful villain) tried to burn down the forest where demons lurked. Was going to burn the stories, burn the brothers, as well. But they were saved by an Angel Angelica; the love interest; the tracker; the one who had been in the forest. Whose father was all the way into the story. She had the same twinned vision; an educated woman who knew the old stories. They too were educated men who knew the stories. And it isolated them both.
The only other person who knew the stories was the general's torturer; the Italian dude. Who saves the stories. Syncretic, like the Catholic Church, pulling the old stories into its own matrix.
It also had the oldest magic in the world; calendar magic. 12 crypts with 12 girls, their blood mingled to make a youth restoring elixir for an immortal queen who none the less aged. I'm a sucker for calendar magic. Months and moons and eclipses, oh my.
The Empress sent her champion, the Emperor, (the huntsman; the wolf man, the man who eats his own children like time eats his own children) to collect the girls. He actually gets 13, but one is rescued by our heroes. 13 moons. 13 months in the lunar year. Contrasted with the 12 months of the solar year.
The Brothers were both avatars of the archetypal Magician. The Magician as thief, story teller, and con man. They found a guide in archetypal High Priestess in this case, a woman with a bow who guided them in and out of the trackless forest of the intuition; of the mythic imagination. The Empress was the Queen in the Tower a dark reflection of the Queen of Heaven; the womb and the tomb. The Huntsman was also the Hanged Man, serving the Empress. And the General he General; the avatar of imperial authority. At last, it was a comedy, order restored with a kiss, even though there didn't need to be one.
And it was so meta! The story tellers were con men, using stories to trick ignorant villagers out of money. Gilliam is a story teller, using stories to trick us into going to the movie. But the story tellers save the day because they hear the story behind the con, and know how to end it.
And the number of fairy tales they wove in. Some were just tiny visual motifs, some were the entire thing. Cinderella (scrubbing floors, glass slippers on the girls in the crypts) Sleeping Beauty (pricked fingers) Little Red Ridding Hood (wandering through the forest, being eaten by a wolf); Hansel and Gretel (searching in the forest, trail of bread crumbs) . . . And older. Crows were everywhere. The Morrigan.
Having Isabella Rossellini as the queen who won immortality but not eternal youth was wonderful. The allure and the horror of the timeless stories; forever young; forever retold.
It begins "Once upon a time," and it ends "They lived happily ever after. Or maybe not."
I loved it. My kinda film.
I really loved what Gillian did with the historical characters, the Brothers Grimm. They were linguists who were part of the creation of the modern Germany. They were both forward looking and deeply backwards looking. Utterly modern, utterly not. Here we have two brothers who pierced the veil; saw through the myth and manipulated it for their own purposes, until the myth stepped up and snatched them back into the dark forest, and not even the flames of the Enlightenment could liberate them. Only thinking through the stories.
There were literal flames licking those forests. Napoleon's General (John Pryce; wonderful villain) tried to burn down the forest where demons lurked. Was going to burn the stories, burn the brothers, as well. But they were saved by an Angel Angelica; the love interest; the tracker; the one who had been in the forest. Whose father was all the way into the story. She had the same twinned vision; an educated woman who knew the old stories. They too were educated men who knew the stories. And it isolated them both.
The only other person who knew the stories was the general's torturer; the Italian dude. Who saves the stories. Syncretic, like the Catholic Church, pulling the old stories into its own matrix.
It also had the oldest magic in the world; calendar magic. 12 crypts with 12 girls, their blood mingled to make a youth restoring elixir for an immortal queen who none the less aged. I'm a sucker for calendar magic. Months and moons and eclipses, oh my.
The Empress sent her champion, the Emperor, (the huntsman; the wolf man, the man who eats his own children like time eats his own children) to collect the girls. He actually gets 13, but one is rescued by our heroes. 13 moons. 13 months in the lunar year. Contrasted with the 12 months of the solar year.
The Brothers were both avatars of the archetypal Magician. The Magician as thief, story teller, and con man. They found a guide in archetypal High Priestess in this case, a woman with a bow who guided them in and out of the trackless forest of the intuition; of the mythic imagination. The Empress was the Queen in the Tower a dark reflection of the Queen of Heaven; the womb and the tomb. The Huntsman was also the Hanged Man, serving the Empress. And the General he General; the avatar of imperial authority. At last, it was a comedy, order restored with a kiss, even though there didn't need to be one.
And it was so meta! The story tellers were con men, using stories to trick ignorant villagers out of money. Gilliam is a story teller, using stories to trick us into going to the movie. But the story tellers save the day because they hear the story behind the con, and know how to end it.
And the number of fairy tales they wove in. Some were just tiny visual motifs, some were the entire thing. Cinderella (scrubbing floors, glass slippers on the girls in the crypts) Sleeping Beauty (pricked fingers) Little Red Ridding Hood (wandering through the forest, being eaten by a wolf); Hansel and Gretel (searching in the forest, trail of bread crumbs) . . . And older. Crows were everywhere. The Morrigan.
Having Isabella Rossellini as the queen who won immortality but not eternal youth was wonderful. The allure and the horror of the timeless stories; forever young; forever retold.
It begins "Once upon a time," and it ends "They lived happily ever after. Or maybe not."
I loved it. My kinda film.