Showing posts with label Terry Gilliam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Terry Gilliam. Show all posts

Monday, June 21, 2010

It Was the War of the Trenches: War is hell, etc.

Elsewhere: I wrote about The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus at The Factual Opinion.  I liked that one.

Links: A new Abhay Khosla comic!  I guess he did this as a minicomic to sell at a local convention, but he also posted it online, and it's as hilarious as you would expect.

Here's a pretty amusing webcomic: God Hates Astronauts.  Be sure to read from the beginning; it's a superhero parody, but while it starts out as a "ha ha, this is lame" sort of thing, with dumb names and powers and bears and such nonsense, it quickly changes into something weirder and funnier.  You'll see what I mean.

It Was the War of the Trenches
By Jacques Tardi



It has been said that it is impossible to make an anti-war movie, since the depiction of war onscreen necessarily conveys such an excitement and intensity that even death can seem entertaining.  That notion is debatable, but the same statement can be disproven for the medium of comics on the basis of one piece of evidence: Jacques Tardi's World War I graphic novel It Was the War of the Trenches.  By focusing on the sense of ever-present death and complete inability to survive through any means other than sheer luck, Tardi completely dispels any sense that war is heroic, or even a worthwhile endeavor.  It's a harsh, ugly look at the depths to which man can sink, with little in the way of redemption throughout.  It's persuasive enough that it renders most any other argument against war unnecessary.

The book collects a series of stories that were published in French magazines over the course of most of the 1980s and early 90s, making for a series of unconnected vignettes following the cannon fodder soldiers who dwelt in the trenches on the front lines of the war between France and Germany.  Tardi pulls no punches here, showing their grim, ugly existence, as they dwell in the mud and rain, subsisting on stale rations before periodically leaving their only relatively protected shelters for ventures into the barbed-wire-and-bullet-filled "No Man's Land", often dying horribly.  Each tale only lasts a few pages, as Tardi follows one soldier or another until their story, more often than not, reaches a bitter end, but he makes good use of the space each man gets, allowing them to narrate about themselves via captions or dialogue, making each individual seem fully realized and human, and all the more tragic when they are inevitably slaughtered.



This might seem like an endurance test, a litany of death upon death, but Tardi does vary his approach enough that each new tale is unique, presenting a fairly encompassing view of soldiers' experiences, although never venturing above the lower-most link on the chain of command.  Some men get a chance to leave the front lines and glimpse a life of normalcy before being sent back into the meat grinder; others get stranded in the crater-pocked wilderness and try to survive on their own; still others find themselves in bombed-out towns searching for food and safety.  We might get to see somebody's personal history or flash to their loved ones before the worst happens, usually quickly.  Or, somebody might get wounded and end up suffering horribly as they slowly die, alone in a muddy pile of fellow corpses.  The stories are fiction, but they are based in heavily-researched fact, and that much is obvious in every nasty detail that Tardi includes on the page.



No, reading this book is not an especially enjoyable experience, but it is a necessary one, an attempt to convey the way war cheapens human life, turning men into disposable objects, bullets to be fired at the enemy with no regard for their own right to existence.  There's a certain contempt on display for those who are in power and treat their men with such disregard, a disgust that the reader shares when the French officers order their artillery to fire on their own lines in order to force the men out of the trenches to attack the German lines, or, in a sequence lifted from the Stanley Kubrick film Paths of Glory, soldiers get sentenced to death for retreating from an impossible assault when ordered to take a German position.  One can't help but be horrified at the ugliness to which men will sink, whether they are fighting for their lives in the mud or giving orders from well behind the lines.

The book ends with a character giving a lengthy monologue that acknowledges all the various factions and nations involved in the war, displaying a sort of sorrow for all the people dragged into a pointless conflict, yet still containing a bit of dark humor at the circumstances that brought them all together.  He also rattles off some staggering statistics about the number of people killed and maimed, the amount of land and resources destroyed, giving a full picture of the damage that war can do.  It's a change from the intimacy of the rest of the book, a chance to zoom out and see the full effect beyond what is experienced by individuals, and it makes for a great bit of punctuation to end this slog through the depths of human ugliness.



Yes, this is an unpleasant book (even extending to the art, which does its job as well as everything else in making the war look ugly, muddy, dirty, and bloody; defining each character well but making sure to show the awfulness of their circumstances), but one that everyone should read, not only for a sense of history, but to see the horror of death and the suffering of those forced to partake in it.  The idea that people would be less likely to engage in war if they witness its effects is something of a pipe dream, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to open people's eyes to it.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

A cinematic WST test

For those who haven't been reading my blog since around when it started, WST is a term I made up that stands for "Weird Shit Tolerance". The subject of today's movie review is a good test for your WST.

Tideland (2006, directed by Terry Gilliam):

This is one pretty fucked-up movie. Here's the basic premise: a little girl lives a pretty horrible life, but she has an active imagination that helps her get through it. The obvious movie to compare it to is Pan's Labyrinth, although this is much weirder, in Gilliam's garishly loud style. Also, Pan had some ambiguity about the premise, as it events could be taken as supernatural, but could also be the main character's imagination. Tideland makes it pretty obvious that its fantastical scenes are imaginary. However, it has plenty of weird shit that is supposed to be real. Gilliam does an introduction on the DVD, saying that to "get" the movie, you have to view it through the eyes of a child, and those who don't like it obviously are not able to do so. The guys at Penny Arcade spoofed this kind of attitude quite a while ago, but apparently Gilliam is still sore about the poor critical reception for The Brothers Grimm, so it looks like he put up some emotional shielding against any more harsh words. Anyway, I guess everything in the movie has to be filtered through Child-Vision, so maybe some of the weirder stuff would make more sense. But probably not; it's kind of batshit-crazy no matter how you look at it.

I guess I should explain what I'm talking about. At the beginning of the movie, little Jeliza-Rose (Jodelle Farland) seems to be the mature one in her family, taking care of her junkie father (Jeff Bridges) and ex-junkie (?) mother (Jennifer Tilly). She likes to read Alice in Wonderland with her dad, before cooking up his heroin so he can go on a "vacation", as he calls it. Tilly seems pretty crazy and obsessed with not sharing chocolate bars with Jeliza-Rose, but then she dies of a methadone overdose (I think). So father and daughter run away to his mother's farmhouse out on "the prairie", where Jeliza-Rose has a bunch of adventures in the creaky old house and the surrounding wheat fields, accompanied by her friends, a bunch of doll heads that she wears on her fingers and has conversations with (at first, we see her talk for the dolls, but later we just hear their voices). Well, things get freaky soon after they arrive [SPOILERS start here], as Bridges goes on one of his vacations and never comes back. Jeliza-Rose keeps playing around the house, sitting on his lap and talking to him as his body starts decaying and attracting flies. It's pretty gross. Funny, though, in a morbid way. In one scene, she enters the house and reacts to the smell, saying, "What died in here?" [End Spoilers, for now].

Jeliza-Rose also encounters their neighbors, and this is where the Child-Vision filter fails, and the movie just turns strange, in my opinion. First, we meet Dell (Janet McTeer), a middle-aged woman who always wears black from head to toe whenever she ventures outside. She even wears a black veil. Jeliza-Rose thinks she's a ghost, even after talking to her, when Dell explains the black by saying she's scared of bees after being blinded in one eye by a bee sting. Later, we meet Dickens (Brendan Fletcher), Dell's retarded/brain-damaged brother. He stumbles around the fields pretending to swim, and invites Jeliza-Rose to his "submarine", which is a tent/fort filled with junk. He also says he's hunting a "monster shark", which travels along the train tracks that run through the fields. Most of Jeliza-Rose's adventures involve playing around with Dickens and avoiding Dell. Dickens and Dell are weirdos, and I don't think their strange nature can be explained away by viewing them as a child would. But I guess it becomes a matter of taste here, and either the weirdness works for you, or it doesn't. I'm actually somewhere in the middle, as I enjoy weird stuff, but find some of it to be too loud and obnoxious.

For added weirdness, we get a scene where [SPOILERS again] Dell and Dickens discover Bridges's body and decide to take care of it. There was an earlier scene in which Jeliza-Rose wandered into a shed next to their house and discovered a bunch of stuffed animal carcasses, establishing that Dell is a taxidermist. So when she finds the body, she decides to clean it up and preserve it, emptying it of its organs and covering it in some sort of lacquer. So Jeliza-Rose gets to keep her father around, in mummified form. I don't need to emphasize this, but, man, it's pretty fucking weird [End Spoilers].

To tell the truth, I'm not sure what to think of the movie. I guess the theme/message could be that children are resilient and able to cope with trauma via their imaginations. Or maybe that children can find a sense of wonder even through the most horrible circumstances. Whatever it is, it's kind of overwhelmed by the weirdness. It's definitely worth watching though, as Gilliam is a filmmaker who can come up with some amazingly striking visuals. The shots of the farmhouse in the middle of a field of golden wheat are beautiful, as are some of the fantasy scenes Jeliza-Rose imagines. You just have to have a high WST to get through to the end.