First there was the location – a city resembling a broken
down, washed out London
of an all too believable future. Most of the exterior wall space is covered
with screens carrying video adverts, the park is dominated by banks of
prohibition signs, and the traffic drives on the right. And then there’s the
hero, Qohen. Apart from the fact that he speaks with a German accent, has even
less hair than I do (zero, by a strange coincidence,) and exhibits an
uncharacteristically reticent air when approached by the sexy young French
woman, he’s pretty close to a mirror image.
The rest of the film is about the nightmare of his life, and
in true Gilliam fashion much of it went over my head. What didn’t go over my
head was his response to the nightmare – fighting the good fight until he flips
altogether and throws himself into the black hole of cosmic chaos.
Ah, but then he wakes up inside his own head where the sand
on the tropical beach is soft, the water warm and inviting, the sunset
seductive, and the French woman calling his name even more so.
Good. Now I can sleep easy.
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