Turning the Tidelands - why Terry Gilliam’s most despised film is actually one of his best

by Memo Salazar

I know my title is a stupid pun, but it’s also very true. Perhaps the best film I saw in 2006 was Terry Gilliam’s Tideland. I walked out of that theater thankful that Mr. G had, once again, reinvented himself and the world around him. Imagine my surprise, then, when every review that emerged from the sad pit of insecurities collectively known as “movie critics” gave Gilliam big zeroes for his effort. I’ve never heard such vitrol from such “professionals”:

“An endless, pointless drone with characters like bacteria and dialogue like an untuned radio.”

“Horrendous and terrible.”

“It’s just a bad movie.”

“You watch the film feeling abused and exploited.”

“As unwatchable as a train wreck.”

“Ugly, disturbing, and misguided mess.”

“Tideland is borderline unwatchable.”

“Pointless and an excruciating bore.”

Entertainment Weekly gave it a flat-out “F”, and Gene Siskel’s watered-down replacement, Richard Roeper, actually chimed in with : “I came very close to walking out of the screening room. And I never do that.”

In fact, most of the reviews shared the same basic phrases and reactions, almost as if they had all been copying each other during a math test. These guys aren’t just disappointed by Gilliam’s effort, they are pissed; they feel cheated and abused. They’re convinced Gilliam has gone bitterly postal, and that this film is his way of getting the industry back for 30 years of abuse towards his career. How can this be the same film that not only I, but almost every person I’ve met who has seen it, really enjoyed? How can Tideland be “most depressing” to a bunch of critics, yet fascinating and inspiring to all seventeen of us who actually saw the film?

Gilliam himself anticipated the backlash. He introduces the film on camera, explaining what we are about to see. I quote from memory: “Some of you will love this film. Some of you will hate it. Others won’t know what to think- and that’s okay, as long as you are thinking.” He then goes on to advise that, in order to appreciate the film, one has to get in touch with one’s inner child, and see things, in this case, through the eyes of a little girl. It’s not just a cute introduction- it is a literal truth. If you can’t remember what it’s like to be under ten years of age, if you can’t appreciate what kids have that most adults have long forgotten, and if you can’t appreciate the creative survival power of the human mind, then you will definitely not understand (and will probably hate) this film. Apparently, this includes every major American film critic.

Is that such a surprise? I’ve met many prominent film critics, and, by and large, they all fall into the same stereotype- insecure, frustrated writers who haven’t an original thought rattling in their mind; a group of people with such little confidence, that everything they write down must first be rationalized and justified by precedents, never daring to do something original and insightful, lest they make a mistake for the world to note- these are our critics. Let’s hear it for a bunch of mental weaklings who’s only source of ego-boosting is the belief that there are people out there who give a shit about what they have to say! Sadly, they’re partially right- there are people out there who actually give a shit about what they have to say.

I generalize, of course. I’m being unfairly harsh, but only because critics by and large have done more harm than good in this world. Hey, I’m quite aware of the apparent irony in my words, since I, myself, am playing the role of critic as well- but it’s not the concept of criticism I’m attacking, it’s the execution. Criticism should be an attempt to analyze a work objectively, not merely a projection of one’s clearly subjective tastes onto someone else’s work. It’s like saying you don’t like a movie because there’s not enough olive green in it- hey, olive green can be your thing, but it’s a completely irrational, unhelpful bit of criticism to the general public. This is the mistake most critics make- they’re so stuck in their “critic” shtick they forget to just shut the fuck up and understand where the artist is coming from. There is the occasional review (or reviewer) out there that is willing to accept a film on its owns terms, critiquing it for what it’s actually doing rather than what the critic wants it to do… but this kind of critic isn’t common, and Tideland is probably the best case in point.

Tideland is rich and challenging, but its heart is incredibly simple. Thematically, it shares much with the more popular Pan’s Labyrinth, though structurally, they are quite different beasts. When life shits on you as a child, you find a way to get by. In Pan’s Labyrinth, our young heroine survives by transplanting herself into the fairy tales she loves to read. It’s a surprisingly wonderful film that eschews cliche while it blends historical fiction with classic fantasy. Tideland, however, reaches this theme via a much more alternate path. Yes, it too is about a little girl who escapes into her fantasy world in order to survive life’s ordeal, but this fantasy world is a truly unique vision, rather than the familiar, comforting fantasy world of princesses and fauns. Gilliam serves us a darker, more bizarre and unpredictable meal, but that’s exactly what makes it such a masterpiece. Every scene takes you to places you’ve never imagined; not once can you guess the pattern or predict the resolution. It all makes sense, but within a logic you’ve never dealt with. Gilliam never cheats us with formulaic solutions and “twists”, which seems to be a problem in the eyes of our critical pals. We’re never given anything to grab onto, any type of cinematic landmark that brings the film back into the realm of “I’ve been here before; I know how this thing works.” It is exactly like poking around in a pitch-black cave and having to figure its layout using only your fingers. Probably not the kind of “fun” people expect when they watch a movie, but definitely an experience worth savoring over and over.

And Jeliza-Rose, our protagonist… what a girl! Played by Jodelle Ferland, this is easily the greatest performance by a non-adult actor I have ever seen. It is amazingly subtle, yet strong enough to literally carry an entire film by itself. Gilliam throws her into a sparse Canadian landscape, where nothing much is happening, and dumps the responsibility of keeping the audience’s attention on her lap. She interacts with other characters at times, sure, but most of the film involves her and her imagination- nothing else. That’s a lot to ask for from anyone, let alone a “mere child”, but Ferland proves that kids can be much stronger than adults… which is fitting, since that’s one of the points of the film.

Like Terry says, if you can’t put yourself in Jeliza-Rose’s shoes, if you can’t grasp the beauty of her childish resilience, and if you can’t understand that this film is not showing the world as a horrible place, but rather, why life is so beautiful and amazing, then you just don’t get it. You don’t just misunderstand this film, you’re misunderstanding what living’s all about. I know them’s fightin’ words, but that’s exactly what this culture needs- something worthwhile to fight for. In this dormant, bland culture of ours, it’s rare that you will watch a movie that shakes up your comfortable little version of reality. Most things fit nicely into the compartments we’ve been taught to distinguish, giving us a sense of control over our chaotic lives. Along comes Gilliam, throwing us a giant curveball in a constantly-shifting shape we can’t begin to describe, and we’re expected to catch it? Who does he think he is?

Please, watch one of the most ignored, but greatest, films of our time. Watch it twice before you send it back, because once is probably just not enough to really appreciate what it’s all about. It’s simply that kind of film.

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