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.

Wisconsin Film Reviews: Part One

By Dan Tester

…so I says to him, I says “Hey der, you seen dat movie SHORTBUS yet?” and he says to me, he says “Heck no, I ain’t been to the picture house in years and what not” so I says to him I says “Well dis picture ain’t in dat movie house, it’s in the picture borrowin’ house down on Milton Avenue, and not even in the prevert section. It is right on the shelf with NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM and what not” and he says to me, he says “Oh gosh, I ain’t even got one of them home picture showin’ machines, I ain’t got no need for it” so I says to him, I says “Well, der, you might be better off, because dat SHORTBUS was kinda weird in a strange way” and he says to me, he says “What’s it about?” and I says to him, I says “Oh, about an hour and a half or so, I reckon” and he says to me, he says “Well, dat’s a fine runnin’ time” and I says to him, I says “Yeah, I guess you got a point der and what not, but dat movie was just plain weird I tells ya” and he says to me, he says “What was so weird about dat flicker?” and I says to him, I says “It is mostly just a buncha preverts out der on the coast, touchin’ each other inappropriately and sinnin’ against Jesus and what not” and he says to me, he says “I hear ya, dem movies today sure do like to show dat kind of smut” so I says to him, I says “Hey dere, there is one scene where a fella sucks on his own pener and jizzes right onto his own face.”………………………………………………………..

………so then he says to me, he says “Maggie’s apple pie sure is good today, eh?” and I says to him, I says “You got dat right, and what not” and then he says to me, he says “Dem Packers are gonna win dat Super Bowl this year, yah hey dere” and I says to him, I says “Yeah, I reckon they look pretty good and what not” so he says to me, he says “Yah, Favre is lookin’ better than ever, I suspect” and I says to him, I says “Yah, I reckon he is ready for another run” and then he says to me, he says “Say, do you see any girls touchin’ themselves in dat movie you were just talkin’ about right there?” and so I says to him, I says “Sure do, and she is Chinese or somethin’ too” and he says to me, he says “Boy, I never had a Chinese before” and I says to him, I says “She gets a pener in almost every hole in dat movie too!” and he says to me, he says “Every hole? Ouchadeena!!!!” so I says to him, I says “I reckon” and he says to me, he says “And dat movie is just right there, on the reglar rentin’ shelf and what not?” and I says to him, I says “Sure is” and he says to me, he says “You don’t meet many chicks like dat in these parts, and my Gertrude sure ain’t into dat kind of filthy smut, which is why I love her dearly and what not” and so I says to him, I says ”I guess some girls are just dirty dat way sometimes I reckon” and he says to me, he says “Well, dat is just disgusting, and it makes Jesus angry”………………………..

….so then he says to me, he says “I think we ought go right go down to dat borrowin’ house and get dat movie and take it to the preacher, so he can see what kind of smut is comin’ into our town, and what not” and I says to him, I says, “Dat is a pretty good idea, I reckon” and he says to me, he says “Let me use your borrowin’ card, and I will go get dat dirty, horrible flicker and take it home with me to make sure it is safe and what not” and I says to him, I says “Okay, someone really should do sumthin, yah hey dere” and then he says to me, he says “I ain’t gonna watch it or nuthin’, I just want to make sure it is safe, I reckon you reckon my intention” and I says to him, I says ”Yeah, I reckon, since you don’t even have a home picture watchin’ machine in your trailer” and so he says to me, he says “Chinese huh?” and I says to him, I says “Chinese, or some what not”………………..

….so I give him my borrowin’ card, I give, and he says to me, he says “I better take right off now and get dat dere disgusting poop before a youngun’ takes it home by accident and turns all whore-like and what not” and I says to him, I says “I reckon dat is a fine idea” and then he says to me, he says “How much do them home picture showin’ machines cost anyway?” and so I says to him, I says “They are really quite affordable nowadays” and so he says to me, he says “How long is Best Buy open?” and I says to him, I says “I believe right up until 10 pm most days, I reckon” and he says to me, he says “I better hit the road then” and I says to him, I says “But it’s only noon, and you haven’t even finished that slice of Maggie’s fine apple pie” and he says to me, he says “Perversion don’t take a nooner to eat pie, and neither do I, and what not” and so I says to him, I says “You are a fine, fine Christian man, I reckon” and he says to me, he says “Have a nice day now” and I says to him, I says “Go fuck yourself” and he says to me, he says “Yah, I hear ya. Go fuck yourself too. Yah hey dere.”…….

All in all, it was another fine, glorious day in Wisconsin.

You Were Duped

By Warren Curry

If you’re like me, then last fall you were eagerly anticipating the December release of “Rocky Balboa.” If you’re like the rest of the sane world, then the mere thought of the film caused you to react with an uncomfortable mix of nervous laughter and hushed horror. When the movie hit American screens last December 20, it was largely met with positive reviews from critics, many who admitted that “Rocky Balboa” was perhaps the film they were least looking forward to viewing during the busy holiday season. Surprising, huh? No, not really.

Though it’s just a theory, with little evidence to support it, I’m convinced most “Rocky Balboa” proponents are not genuine fans of the film. My feeling is that the majority of these people really only appreciate the spirit and effort Sylvester Stallone put into making the franchise come full circle. It’s a bold claim, and maybe not an entirely valid one (I’m like Dr. Phil that way), so let me attempt to dig myself out of this hole.

Starting with “Rocky III” (my personal favorite chapter in the series), Stallone made the decision to turn the story of the scrappy, underdog boxer into a cartoon. Rocky stopped being the everyman and vaulted into the stratosphere of superhero. He saved the world from a badass bully with a mohawk (Clubber Lang), a cheating, steroid injecting Russian gargantuan (Ivan Drago), a crooked promoter (George Washington Duke) and a young pugilist corrupted by fame and greed (Tommy “Machine” Gunn). But when “Rocky V” hit theaters, the general public, much like Tommy Gunn, turned their back on Rocky. The film grossed a disappointing $40 million at the box office, a staggering decline from the previous two installments, which each raked in well over $100 million.

In many ways, the ’80s weren’t kind to Rocky Balboa, the character. Sure, he triumphed at the end of every movie, but his ego became appallingly bloated. The money, the popularity, it all went straight to his head, and the result was a character you rooted for only because his adversaries were so much more dislikeable. (I can’t be the only person who hoped Apollo’s punch landed first in the freeze frame punctuated sparring session at the end of “Rocky III.”) Face it, this was another obscenely self-absorbed athlete in dire need of his comeuppance.

Who received the comeuppance, it turned out, was Stallone. The 1990s brought about a relatively seismic shift in pop culture, and it wasn’t long before many of us were laughing at the excesses we so revered the previous decade. By the latter half of the ’90s, Stallone was viewed as a humorous relic from a distant time, much like the way we all snickered at bell bottoms in 1985. Gone were the days of Rocky and Rambo, now it was “Judge Dredd” and “Daylight.” After winning some critical accolades for his “serious” performance in the kind of, sort of, but not really all that good “Cop Land,” the aging actor was relegated to roles in a string of inconsequential movies (”Driven,” “Avenging Angelo,” “Shade”).

Stallone obviously saw his window of opportunity closing. He was an actor who couldn’t escape his past, so instead of trying to run from it, he embraced it. If he was always going to be thought of as Rocky or Rambo, then why not give the people what they want (”John Rambo” — notice a theme? — is currently in production)? Stallone claimed he wasn’t happy with the way “Rocky V” turned out (I wonder why?) and wanted a better conclusion to the series. If that was his one goal, then “Rocky Balboa” is a success.

My feeling is that goal was also the only demand of critics and the public. Set expectations low enough and just about anything (except “Basic Instinct II”) will exceed them. When I saw the film, I remember thinking it was a nice try, but that it lacked too much in the way of storytelling skill to truly work. As someone who wanted to like the movie, I was almost sad that I wouldn’t be able to defend it against the critical beating I was sure it would receive. But then the strong reviews came pouring in, and soon people who had openly poked fun at me for my interest in the film were proudly supporting it. I anticipated being on one side of the “Rocky Balboa” argument, but found myself completely in the other corner.

I hope fans of the film can at least admit it’s absurd. Of course, Rocky III-V were fantastically more absurd, but that was the point of those movies. They were connected to reality by only the loosest thread and made no bones about that fact. “Rocky Balboa” attempts to be the same kind of gritty, feel-good entertainment as the original “Rocky,” but still exists in a fantasy world. Aside from some guy on the Internet named Warren Curry’s sharp review (click here to read), I’m not sure if any other critic pointed out how preposterous a key story beat in this film is.

The climactic “exhibition” fight between Rocky, who’s coming out of a long retirement, and the film’s ostensible villain, current heavyweight champion Mason “The Line” Dixon (played by former light heavyweight champ Antonio Tarver), is set up by Dixon’s management team so their fighter can obtain the public’s much needed respect. Whaaaat??? This would be the equivalent of Floyd Mayweather’s manager deciding that a match against Sugar Ray Leonard would be a way to earn his fighter credibility. In reality, Mayweather would be mercilessly ridiculed and rightfully torn to shreds by the boxing media if this happened. Since you’re probably not a boxing fan, and are currently asking yourself “Floyd Who?,” here’s another sports analogy.

Let’s imagine, like Dan Tester does, the Chicago Bears won the most recent Super Bowl. They’re regarded as one of the weaker Super Bowl champs in NFL history, and after ESPN airs the result of a video game, which shows the 2006 Bears going down to defeat against the 1985 Bears, Chicago coach Lovie Smith calls an emergency team meeting. He informs his players that the only way to gain the respect of football fans is to face the ‘85 team in a game of two-hand touch. Never mind that Walter Payton is dead and Refrigerator Perry could succumb to a heart attack walking off the team bus. No, if Brian Urlacher and crew wish to be considered a gutty football squad, they have to put an end to the Super Bowl Shuffle. I’m sure a better writer could work in a “Footloose” reference here.

Getting back to “Rocky Balboa,” let’s consider the fight itself. Any professional referee interested in keeping his job would stop the bout when Rocky gets knocked down in the first round. And how about the judges’ literally impossible scorecards? Before you say, “it’s just a movie!” can you imagine if a football film depicted scene after scene of two teams scoring touchdowns, only to reveal the game’s final score is 7-3? I find it impossible to believe anyone would excuse such inattention to detail. Being a big boxing fan, it’s possible I’m overly defensive, but it seems Stallone always finds a way to make a mockery of the sport. Toss in a few cheaply vulnerable moments when Rocky pines for the late Adrian, an especially despicable Paulie (Burt Young), a strangely uncomfortable scene where Rock is dissed by some young troublemakers in a bar, a surrogate son character who is sloppily abandoned halfway through the film, and I maintain that you have to give this movie EVERY benefit of the doubt to be a fan.

If you didn’t see this film in the theater, you may or may not be interested to know it was released on DVD this week. It’s supposed to have some solid bonus features and an alternate ending (if you’ve seen the DVD, feel free to share this ending in the comments section). As you might have guessed, I won’t be adding “Rocky Balboa” to my collection. To bring this blog to a rushed, unnatural conclusion, let me say, in summation, it’s not that I feel you’re wrong for being a “Rocky Balboa” fan. It’s simply that I don’t believe you.

Hollywood Magic

By Dan Tester

I recently saw IDIOCRACY, the new film (on DVD) from Mike Judge. I liked it, but was kind of disappointed at the same time. It certainly wasn’t the balls out satire that OFFICE SPACE was. IDIOCRACY kind of died during it’s deadly final third. What was that all about? Yeah, I get it. White Trash. Smash stuff up. But let’s end this thing on some sort of creatively inspirational note, why not? But it didn’t. Well, it kinda did, but not as much as OFFICE SPACE did. I still liked it though. Particularly the message…White Trash, Red State, Bush Loving morons, with a dash of unprotected sex, are going to lead to the end of civilization. You know what I am talking about. The kind of morons that would rather sit amongst a toothless legion and watch the Daytona 500 than actually figure out how to determine percentages. The first quarter of IDIOCRACY was particularly brilliant. The middle three quarters, fine stuff. The fourth third was a little lacking. But that final half…well, I think I covered that already.

What has two teeth and 100,000 legs? The crowd at the Daytona 500. (To be fair, my client Scooter Libby told me that one during recess).

FILM NOTE: (SPOILER ALERT- For dumbasses that read reviews before they actually see the movie, and then whine about learning things about the movie before they saw it, you have been warned). One of the funniest things I have seen in a movie in quite some time came during IDIOCRACY. To preface, we get the whole exposition of the white General explaining the sleep deprivation experiment to the military brass. We learn that this General has met a pimp, who has had some sort of life reevaluating effect on the General. The scene plays out with the slide show (funny in itself), but then later….we see our two protagonists preparing for the deep sleep, getting to know each other, and then suddenly that same white General enters the laboratory and says…”What’s up, my niggahs?” I swear, I almost fell off the sofa laughing.

It is interesting, because I waited to see IDIOCRACY until I moved into my new apartment, about a week ago or so. It was going to be a christening of sorts…enjoying a quality film on the first night of solitude. I watched it, and then went to bed. The next day, I was televisickly informed that Anna Nicole Smith was dead.

IDIOCRACY…Anna Nicole Smith dead. It just struck me as an interesting first post on the newest incarnation of the Cinemaspeak website, to discuss the parallels. IDIOCRACY is about dumb human beings. Anna Nicole Smith was a dumb human being, and it has become apparent that millions of dumb human beings actually care about the post-breath-sucking situation of a dumb human being. FOX NEWS has made a 24-hour telethon of this stuff. Is there still a war going on in Iraq, FOX NEWS? Anna Nicole couldn’t have died at a better time for Sean Hannity.

Did anyone watch that trial on TV? Dan Hedaya made a hell of a judge, but not even David Kelley would have allowed Shelley Berman to spout that much crap on BOSTON LEGAL. I have a feeling judgie-poo is angling for his own TV show. It was apparent that not only were the defendants and plaintiffs IDIOCRACY material, but so was the friggin’ judicial system. As a side note, I loved the whole damn thing. It was fine, fine TV. The only way it could have been improved would have been if William Hung had staggered into the courtroom and sang “Once, Twice, Three Times a Lady” right before Judge Dan Hedaya read his verdict.

But anyway, I let that one go, because it would probably be considered inappropriate. Speaking ill of the dead is not accepted by the American masses, so please, disregard anything I said above. Just start reading right here.

I was thinking about resurrecting the CINEMASPEAK prediction board for the Oscars, which I think is going to be another shameful display where horrible things will happen…like Scorsese finally winning for an average display like THE DEPARTED. If this is the case, they should have just given him the Oscar for BRINGING OUT THE DEAD years ago, and let Paul Greengrass win this year. Was Greengrass even nominated? That movie was amazing. Too amazing for the Oscars, anyway. I have no idea who is nominated this year. I have turned my back completely on Hollywood bullshit. After Scorsese lost for THE AVIATOR a few years ago, I turned to my friends and said “There is no way Scorsese will ever lose if he is ever nominated again. Scorsese could direct a 4-hour epic that simply depicted Robert De Niro sitting on a toilet, occasionally farting, occasionally pooping, all the time alternating between reading scripture and singing Jerry Reed songs, and Scorsese would be a lock for his Oscar.” It will come true this Sunday, for a piece of average poop like THE DEPARTED. Sad. Sad. Sad. Sad.

I am rooting for Jackie Earle Haley for Best Supporting Actor. When I was writing nonsense on the old Cinemaspeak message boards, I used to write “KING’S THINGS”, which was a column written by Larry King with thoughts “off the top of his head” like he used to do in USA TODAY back in the 80s, but this time as if Larry King had lost his mind (oh, he hasn’t? Could’ve fooled me. - Warren). I remember Larry asking “Whatever happened to Jackie Earle Haley? He is long overdue for a big hit!!” I am glad to hear crazy Larry King was right. If I were in the audience come this Sunday, and they were announcing the nominees for Best Supporting Actor, and they read the name of Jackie Earle Haley, I would stand up and start chanting “Let Him Play! Let Him Play! Let Him Play!’ Then, when Norbit won, he would go up and dedicate the award to Mr. Jackie Earle Haley, just like Ving Rhames dedicated his award to Jack Lemmon a number of years ago. That truly was Hollywood magic. I wonder if Jack Lemmon ever got that award from Ving though. I have a feeling Jack’s dedicated trophy is probably a doorstop in the Rhames household. But it was still Hollywood magic. How dare you say otherwise.

So for Sunday, go Paul Greengrass!! It really is the only award I am truly rooting for that night. It is a shame that this is one of the few nominations that UNITED 93 got. Did you ever see BLOODY SUNDAY, another film by Paul Greengrass? I would highly recommend that, as well. He probably should have won Best Director for that, too. I can’t remember what undeserving jerk won that year, though. Oh yeah, I just remembered…it was Opie for A BEAUTIFUL MIND. That was the same year Denzel won Best Actor for TRAINING DAY. That might have been the worst year for Oscar ever. But God bless. It’s called “Hollywood magic,” you cynical bastards.

Well, gotta go submit my DNA for the “Anna Nicole Baby Lottery.” I have to admit, I could use the cash. Much more than Zsa Zsa’s husband, anyway. But I am rooting for Jimmie “Kid Dyn-no-mite” Walker to be the father. Yeah, I know, he has not yet emerged as a contender, but I can dream, can’t I?

Hollywood magic.