Dede Allen
1923-2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
The Fisher King
"I like New York in June. How about you?"
One of my all-time favorite movies. I watched it again recently, and so I've decided to write a little bit about it.
This movie has always had a certain kind of appeal for me. It's that rare sort of film that seems to completely fit my personality, and so it holds a special place in my heart. It's equal parts humor, heartbreak, romance, and personal drama - with terrific flourishes of grand emotion. The fact that it's able to tie all of these qualities together in a highly entertaining package makes it all the more worthwhile - and memorable.
Director Terry Gilliam (Brazil, 12 Monkeys) brings Richard LaGravenese's highly original script to the screen, starring Robin Williams, Jeff Bridges, Mercedes Ruehl (who won an Oscar for her role), and Amanda Plummer.
The story concerns an arrogant talk radio host named Jack Lucas (Bridges). One fateful day on his program, he begins ranting against yuppies, proclaiming them to be"inhuman" and announcing that they "must be stopped". One of his listeners interprets this as a literal call to arms, and takes it upon himself to enter a yuppie bar in Manhattan with a shotgun, where he kills several people, and then himself. Needless to say, Jack is in shock.
Cut to black. As the picture fades back up, it's now three years later. Jack is overcome with grief and guilt, and now drowns his sorrows in alcohol. He's in a relationship with a woman named Anne (Ruehl), a video store owner whose strong-willed personality seems to be the only thing keeping him from falling completely apart. They live together in the apartment above the store, and after getting into an argument one night, Jack leaves and takes a drunken walk through the city.
It's at this point that Jack decides to take his own life. He weighs down his feet with cinder blocks and prepares to jump in the river. However, at just this moment, he's attacked by two street punks who mistake him for a homeless man. They soak him with gasoline and attempt to set him on fire. But out of the shadows appears a savior: a strange little man dressed as a knight, who beats up the punks and saves Jack from certain death. Before he can comprehend the events that have just unfolded in front of him, Jack passes out...
He awakes the next morning in the basement of a building, and we're introduced to Parry (Williams):
It turns out that after his wife's death, Parry fell into a sort of catatonic state for a long period of time. When he finally awoke, he was no longer a college professor whose wife was murdered; he was now a knight on a quest for the Holy Grail.
After discovering who Parry really is, and feeling responsible for his current mental state, Jack goes to find him in an attempt to make amends. He first tries to talk some sense into him, but any mention of his former life or his true identity sends Parry into hysterics. When confronted with his past, he sees hallucinations of a Red Knight who threatens and attacks him. (This is, obviously, a metaphor for his traumatic past which he is unable - and unwilling - to face. BRILLIANT stuff.)
Determined to set things straight with Parry, and unwilling to help him with his delusional quest for the Grail, Jack decides to give him some money, only to find that Parry secretly desires something else:
So now we have our plot device which will carry us through the rest of the picture. In trying to make things right, both with himself and with Parry, Jack now has a goal - to help this broken man find love once again. And that sets the stage for several wonderful, magical scenes, the first of which is set in a train station...
(but first, we must pause a moment and watch a great little monologue by Tom Waits, playing a homeless, disabled veteran.)
Good stuff.
...And now, here's one of the most striking - and frequently discussed (because of its complexity) - sequences in the film. As Parry pursues his dream girl through Grand Central Station, the rush hour foot-traffic suddenly transforms into... well, you'll see.
Beautiful.
So, as the film continues, Jack works to bring Parry and his dream girl closer together, and the two men begin to bond. And one night, in the middle of Central Park, Parry tells Jack the story of The Fisher King:
Two broken men, each in search of their own personal Grail (in this case being genuine, unfaltering, life-affirming love) which will heal their respective (emotional) wounds, but who cannot find it themselves, and only discover it when it is the result of a selfless act of kindness. As the story says: "I only knew that you were thirsty". Truly great writing.
So we now enter the third act of what is basically a four-act story. Jack has succeeded in bringing Parry and the girl together. Her name is Lydia (Amanda Plummer), and her character is exceptionally well-written for being such a small part. She's a shy, mousy, clumsy girl, but she's also strong and has natural defenses. She's initially hesitant of going on a date, but eventually agrees.
And so Parry, Lydia, Jack, and Anne go on a double-date to a Chinese restaurant. The resulting scene is charming, funny, and sweetly romantic - more so than almost any film I can think of:
There's some great little character details in that scene, such as how Parry purposely drops and knocks over items on the table to make the bumbling Lydia feel more comfortable.
We come now to my favorite part of the movie - and the scene that really made me fall in love with this picture. It's a prime example of all aspects of a film working together perfectly: the acting is top-notch, the direction is rock-solid, and the writing is clean, precise, and rhythmic. I'll come right out and say it - I've mentioned this many times over the years and it's still true: this is my favorite movie monologue of all time. Yes, you have Peter Finch's "mad as hell" speech in Network, and Henry Fonda's "I'll be there" monologue in The Grapes of Wrath, but this one, in how it's written and how it's played, is, in my mind, perfection:
It affected me when I first heard it, and it still does, every time. The construction of the monologue is air-tight, the circular nature of it - the repetition of the "coffee" line twice to set it up, and then it pops up again as an ending beat, bringing it full-circle. A lot of it has to do with the way Robin Williams plays it. He's just so innocent, honest, and pure. It will probably always be my favorite role of his. And Amanda Plummer's reaction to the whole thing sells it completely.
The last act of the film begins with tragedy, and since it immediately follows this scene, it's especially heartbreaking. I won't reveal any more of the film. I'll only say that there's triumph and redemption, and it's immensely, immensely satisfying.
If you haven't yet seen this film, you should immediately do so. Your heart will thank you for it. (And your brain will concur).
One of my all-time favorite movies. I watched it again recently, and so I've decided to write a little bit about it.
This movie has always had a certain kind of appeal for me. It's that rare sort of film that seems to completely fit my personality, and so it holds a special place in my heart. It's equal parts humor, heartbreak, romance, and personal drama - with terrific flourishes of grand emotion. The fact that it's able to tie all of these qualities together in a highly entertaining package makes it all the more worthwhile - and memorable.
Director Terry Gilliam (Brazil, 12 Monkeys) brings Richard LaGravenese's highly original script to the screen, starring Robin Williams, Jeff Bridges, Mercedes Ruehl (who won an Oscar for her role), and Amanda Plummer.
The story concerns an arrogant talk radio host named Jack Lucas (Bridges). One fateful day on his program, he begins ranting against yuppies, proclaiming them to be"inhuman" and announcing that they "must be stopped". One of his listeners interprets this as a literal call to arms, and takes it upon himself to enter a yuppie bar in Manhattan with a shotgun, where he kills several people, and then himself. Needless to say, Jack is in shock.
Cut to black. As the picture fades back up, it's now three years later. Jack is overcome with grief and guilt, and now drowns his sorrows in alcohol. He's in a relationship with a woman named Anne (Ruehl), a video store owner whose strong-willed personality seems to be the only thing keeping him from falling completely apart. They live together in the apartment above the store, and after getting into an argument one night, Jack leaves and takes a drunken walk through the city.
It's at this point that Jack decides to take his own life. He weighs down his feet with cinder blocks and prepares to jump in the river. However, at just this moment, he's attacked by two street punks who mistake him for a homeless man. They soak him with gasoline and attempt to set him on fire. But out of the shadows appears a savior: a strange little man dressed as a knight, who beats up the punks and saves Jack from certain death. Before he can comprehend the events that have just unfolded in front of him, Jack passes out...
He awakes the next morning in the basement of a building, and we're introduced to Parry (Williams):
It turns out that after his wife's death, Parry fell into a sort of catatonic state for a long period of time. When he finally awoke, he was no longer a college professor whose wife was murdered; he was now a knight on a quest for the Holy Grail.
After discovering who Parry really is, and feeling responsible for his current mental state, Jack goes to find him in an attempt to make amends. He first tries to talk some sense into him, but any mention of his former life or his true identity sends Parry into hysterics. When confronted with his past, he sees hallucinations of a Red Knight who threatens and attacks him. (This is, obviously, a metaphor for his traumatic past which he is unable - and unwilling - to face. BRILLIANT stuff.)
Determined to set things straight with Parry, and unwilling to help him with his delusional quest for the Grail, Jack decides to give him some money, only to find that Parry secretly desires something else:
So now we have our plot device which will carry us through the rest of the picture. In trying to make things right, both with himself and with Parry, Jack now has a goal - to help this broken man find love once again. And that sets the stage for several wonderful, magical scenes, the first of which is set in a train station...
(but first, we must pause a moment and watch a great little monologue by Tom Waits, playing a homeless, disabled veteran.)
Good stuff.
...And now, here's one of the most striking - and frequently discussed (because of its complexity) - sequences in the film. As Parry pursues his dream girl through Grand Central Station, the rush hour foot-traffic suddenly transforms into... well, you'll see.
Beautiful.
So, as the film continues, Jack works to bring Parry and his dream girl closer together, and the two men begin to bond. And one night, in the middle of Central Park, Parry tells Jack the story of The Fisher King:
Two broken men, each in search of their own personal Grail (in this case being genuine, unfaltering, life-affirming love) which will heal their respective (emotional) wounds, but who cannot find it themselves, and only discover it when it is the result of a selfless act of kindness. As the story says: "I only knew that you were thirsty". Truly great writing.
So we now enter the third act of what is basically a four-act story. Jack has succeeded in bringing Parry and the girl together. Her name is Lydia (Amanda Plummer), and her character is exceptionally well-written for being such a small part. She's a shy, mousy, clumsy girl, but she's also strong and has natural defenses. She's initially hesitant of going on a date, but eventually agrees.
And so Parry, Lydia, Jack, and Anne go on a double-date to a Chinese restaurant. The resulting scene is charming, funny, and sweetly romantic - more so than almost any film I can think of:
There's some great little character details in that scene, such as how Parry purposely drops and knocks over items on the table to make the bumbling Lydia feel more comfortable.
We come now to my favorite part of the movie - and the scene that really made me fall in love with this picture. It's a prime example of all aspects of a film working together perfectly: the acting is top-notch, the direction is rock-solid, and the writing is clean, precise, and rhythmic. I'll come right out and say it - I've mentioned this many times over the years and it's still true: this is my favorite movie monologue of all time. Yes, you have Peter Finch's "mad as hell" speech in Network, and Henry Fonda's "I'll be there" monologue in The Grapes of Wrath, but this one, in how it's written and how it's played, is, in my mind, perfection:
It affected me when I first heard it, and it still does, every time. The construction of the monologue is air-tight, the circular nature of it - the repetition of the "coffee" line twice to set it up, and then it pops up again as an ending beat, bringing it full-circle. A lot of it has to do with the way Robin Williams plays it. He's just so innocent, honest, and pure. It will probably always be my favorite role of his. And Amanda Plummer's reaction to the whole thing sells it completely.
The last act of the film begins with tragedy, and since it immediately follows this scene, it's especially heartbreaking. I won't reveal any more of the film. I'll only say that there's triumph and redemption, and it's immensely, immensely satisfying.
If you haven't yet seen this film, you should immediately do so. Your heart will thank you for it. (And your brain will concur).
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