My thoughts, for others who found the film intriguing
Is "The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus" simply a tale about an old man who carries dreams around London in a trailer, or is it an extended allegory regarding the nature of humanity?
These are the kind of questions I found myself asking after viewing the film (for the third time) (not in a row). The first viewing left my mind dazzled, and a bit confused but still pleased by the experience. I knew there was something going on beneath the surface, but I was far too high (marijuana) at the time to make any of those types of inferences. I had really just wanted to witness a Gilliam/Ledger (Depp/Law/Farrell) collaboration, and like always, Gilliam takes us on a dreamy, visceral trip-fest of a ride, and Ledger is convincing, hilarious and intense (though at times he seems frail, and this brings a definite eeriness to the viewing of the film). All the other players are top-notch of course and the premise is intriguing and thought provoking and yada yada yada...
But what is this damn thing about? I mean, really?
No clue. Not after the first viewing. Obviously it couldn't be literal (could it?). And it doesn't feel like straight fantasy either, too surreal.
So, all throughout the second viewing, I'm searching, I'm looking at this thing, I'm combing through the scenes, I'm PAYING ATTENTION. And nothing really jumps out...not at first, at least, or in the moment. I was trying to put things together when I should have been PAYING ATTENTION. I was nit-picking. I was still bewildered. For a few hours. And then the thought occurred that maybe I was...suffering from tunnel-vision. That maybe the entire story was itself a symbol.
And that thought sat and marinated in the back of my mind until now, having just caught the flick on IFC and Now I Think I Know. Or at least, I have settled upon two possibilities.
One: This film is a transcription of an old man's life told through his own manic tongue, a man who has been ravaged by years of self-abuse (alcoholism in this case), has lost his family and career because of it, and is delusional by the time he tells his tale (thus, we have all this vivid, extraordinary imagery). Perhaps it is even an internal monologue of an old wino recounting his life (perhaps an idealized version of it) as he begs, bowed down on the pavement with his hands held out, shaking...pleading to his creator... And of course, his little buddy, some small flicker of inspiration (his one chance at redemption) comes around and cleans him up, gets him working again. But he is temped once more by that smart-lookin', mean 'ol devil (the bottle) and his little friend has to remind him to keep his head down and do his duty...but will he listen? Will he go on with his little stage and puppets...?
(which I think in itself is a bit of a statement on humanity, or or at least for people who tend to set traps for themselves)
Two: Old Man (Christopher Plummer, always magnificent and especially commanding here) and his tormentor (Tom Waits, nuff said) are two parts of the same entity, what humans think of as 'God'. Valentina, God's 'child', is mankind, so far innocent, beautiful and unsullied. The other members of the troupe represent various incarnations of earthly purpose or virtue; guardians, mentors, sibling, confidant, etc. (each member possess a few virtues), who all have influence on the development of 'mankind'. Then they stumble upon Tony, who is mayhem, and deceives them from the very start. He's a strife who worms his way into 'mankind's trust only to betray her in pursuit of his own purpose/goal. And this pestilence we call Tony is so insidious that even 'God's tortured soul is troubled by him. 'God', who keeps keeps fighting with himself over what to do with his child, must put that battle aside in order to rid himself of this treacherous 'Tony' once and for all (who has already, unknown to him, corrupted his child). He succeeds, but returns to his former battle to find his opponent uninterested and his child gone without a trace. Until he finds her later, dining with her 'brother' (virtue of brotherhood perhaps?) and having spawned another beautiful virtue (one that is not revealed to us, and it doesn't matter, just look at the good Doctor's face in that scene looking in through the window, that joy and tenderness in his eye, that's all we need to know about the benevolence of this particular virtue). And still, later, he must keep his head down and go on giving life to something otherwise lifeless but seeing it still only as cardboard cutouts. He must ignore his tormentor's challenges.
(I am starting to believe that this film is not a statement on humanity, but rather spirituality, or maybe the effect of one on the other) (or maybe it isn't about 'God' at all, maybe it's about your boss at work)
I admit, number two is a little incoherent and not fully formed as an idea...but hey, I'm only trying to share my thoughts. Maybe I need to watch the movie again. I'm leaning more towards number two right now but I could also accept number one.
I wonder if anyone else felt anything similar while trying to piece this film together. Or has anyone found a moral or main idea because it's still eluding me. Be kind to one another? Do your duty? Mankind is easily corruptible? Maybe even God has struggles? I don't know. Maybe it doesn't matter. Or maybe it's quite clear and I'm just missing it.
...
"Buy the ticket, take the ride." --Raoul Duke, the great shark hunter