The Zero Theorem

Ah, the auteur director. So very few of them left and even fewer whose work attracts A-list stars and audiences. Which is a little strange when you think about it. So much of Hollywood's output conforms to readily identifiable tropes and structures that you might imagine actors and viewers alike would long for visual and narratological deviance. I'll work on a theory about this at some point but first I have to stand in this field all year round and eat grass.

Apparently Terry Gilliam, the modern era's auteuriest director, isn't keen on The Zero Theorem being considered the third in a thirty-five year trilogy that started with Brazil and notched up Twelve Monkeys before 2013 saw the release of this, possibly the oddest of the three. So is it lazy journalism to point to the continuity of perspective, of dystopian aura and of a search for individual meaning within culturally trivialised lives? Maybe. I said it anyway.

Although visually Christoph Waltz appears to be auditioning for a future casting as Uncle Fester, his character, Qohen, is a theoretical cleverclogs tasked with solving the titular theorem whilst simultaneously being distracted by the initially unwelcome companionship of a PVC-clad Melanie Thierry (loved her work at Arsenal) and an arrogant neo-genius who calls everyone Bob because it's easier to remember his own name than learn other people's. It could be argued, then, that his search for meaning takes in a slow but genuine acceptance of a disjointed form of nuclear family with Thierry as love interest and Bob boy as surrogate child. Aww, connection and human affection equates to meaning. Excuse me while I fill this small bag with vomit.

No, I'm not that cynical. Love is a splendoured thing and comes in many forms. Gilliam knows this but is never so crass as to simply toss off a quirky family values fable for the money. Not even if the money is super big. Probably. And hey, if he has done exactly that with The Zero Theorem at least he's coaxed David Thewliss into his best performance since that cameo in The Big Lebowski.

None of Terry Gilliam's films are fully comprehensible on a single viewing; they are the cinematic equivalent of a Hieronymus Bosch painting, lurid, garish and groaning with sumptuous detail in every corner of every frame, requiring repeated scrutiny. Are they also moralistic? Yes, if you acknowledge that few of his movies hold back on criticism of the cultural values we are daily served up as ethical and habitual normalities within Western societies. Despite the broad palette of his oeuvre one of the unifying messages in his work is that notwithstanding the depersonalisation and alienation inherent to our world, human connection continues to occur in the unlikeliest of circumstances, lending authentic meaning to everyday mundanity.

Or you can replace the dialogue of every one of his movies with The Doors' 'People Are Strange' without doing too much damage to their impact. This patch of grass is lovely. I could quite happily eat it and eat it until such time as I am slaughtered and served up as somebody's supper.