Film Reviews
By Nathaniel Bell

Stale Confections

It is a common misconception among moviegoers that a film should be judged solely by its fidelity to the source material. Just try and count the number of Harry Potter fans miffed at the omission of such-and-such a character or such-and-such a scene. Films—and the literature upon which they are sometimes based—must necessarily exist as two individual entities, and should be graded on their own terms. Many a poor literary translation has survived well enough onscreen, and the film medium has always been such that the director can freely adopt the material and make it his or her own. But there is a fine line between modifying an author's work and meddling. Two recent meddlers are Tim Burton, whose adaptation of Roald Dahl's “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” soared to number one at the American box office, and Terry Gilliam, whose upcoming “The Brothers Grimm” is scheduled to hit theaters August 26.

Roald Dahl stories have always tended to be a little cruel, and “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” first published in 1964, is no different. The five extravagantly bratty children selected to tour candy magnate Willy Wonka's magical factory are systematically squeezed through narrow tubes, swollen into giant blueberries, shoved down garbage disposals, shrunken to doll-size, and stretched out like taffy. Such is the price of avarice. But at least Dahl's colorful displays of ironic comeuppance teach kids to take responsibility for their own actions. There is a strict code of morality coursing throughout Dahl's playful prose that makes his work ideal fodder for burgeoning young minds. Tim Burton's newest film (which was adapted by John August and is itself a remake of the Mel Stuart's 1971 film starring Gene Wilder) obscures Dahl's message by adding a bogus subplot involving Wonka's estranged father (a recurrent theme in Burton 's repertoire).

What could have been a perfectly satisfying parable of greed and consequence (as Stuart's film was) winds up an oddly creepy and generally unsatisfying ode to familial relations. And while Burton 's film is the more accomplished piece of filmmaking, it is nonetheless perturbing to see one of the most creative of Hollywood directors succumbing to the stalest plot devices and the moldiest resolutions. And all because he insisted upon adding his own ingredients to a concoction that was practically perfect to begin with.

Terry Gilliam's long-awaited “The Brothers Grimm” is equally ambitious but even more dismaying. A shrill, excessively noisy film that professes to be an homage to the imagination of Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, it actually demystifies the fairytale mythos and makes them appear crass and vulgar by association. This is the kind of film that would make C.S. Lewis wince.

Set somewhat unconvincingly during the French occupation of Germany in the early 1800s, the movie chronicles the misadventures of the eponymous characters (Matt Damon and Heath Ledger), two eccentric hucksters who travel from village to village staging supernatural mayhem and then demanding a fee to apply a magic “cure.” Problems arise when the disappearances of several children suggest that an actual curse is at work.

Gilliam, the conceptual genius who once belonged to the famous Monty Python troupe, can be accused of many things as a filmmaker, but never a lack of imagination. If anything, his films (which include such visionary works as “Time Bandits” and “The Adventures of Baron Munchausen”) suffer from an overabundance of creative energy. But his profuse talents are put to ill use in “The Brothers Grimm,” a cornucopia of bad visual choices (ugly red-and-orange hues, dizzying wide angles and ferociously unattractive side characters) that lumbers from set piece to gaudy set piece.

Gilliam not only makes a mockery what sly gentility once existed in the works of the Grimm brothers (who gave us Cinderella, Hansel and Gretel, and Little Red Riding Hood), but, like Burton and company, pollutes the once-pure narrative with his own fantasies, when the original blueprints would have done just fine. Gilliam's wild style and aggressive sense of humor are well suited to such nightmarish films as “Brazil” and “Twelve Monkeys,” but here, his trademark stylistic excesses are sorely out of sync with the spirit of Grimm fiction (For a more accurate rendering of their expansive work, see George Pal’s 1962 production “The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm.”)

As written by Ehren Kruger, the new plot is a hodgepodge of half-developed themes and motifs purloined from a dozen different sources, not all of them Grimm. It involves, among other things, a centuries-old witch, a wolf-man, a possessed forest, and several other fantastic elements that never quite jell. The original fairytales were filled with such wonders, but they adhered to a set of unwritten rules, and in their own way, made perfect sense (that's why children respond so well to them). The convoluted events that transpire in “The Brothers Grimm” abide by neither rhyme nor reason and are so unpleasant they will have any sensible child running for the exit.

Gilliam remains a legitimate artist (indeed, the film's marvelous, hand-crafted art direction is one of its saving graces), but this time, his vulgarities got the better of him. You'll come out of “The Brothers Grimm” having had an eyeful, certainly. But you'll also more than likely have a headache.

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